Desert
"She what?!" Dookou shouted, a strong Force pulse radiating from his body and sending anything and everything in the room flying back.
"S—she shot Jabba the Hutt, my lord," groaned the clone commander as he pushed himself to his feet. "But it was not fatal, if that would help."
"No," Dookou shook his head violently, "this wasn't supposed to happen."
BloodLust looked on from his perch in the metal rafters of the huge main chamber of the Separatist citadel. He tilted his head to one side, eyes wide and curious. He'd never seem Master Dookou this mad before. This furious.
The blond-haired Sith swung his way down as Dookou electrocuted the clone in his rage.
"Rain shot Jabba?" he asked, recklessly testing the limits of Dookou's patience.
"Yes!" he lashed out at Blood, another Force pulse sending the teen skidding back a few feet. "It has ruined my plans…" he added, hissing these words under his breath.
"Not necessarily…" Blood could feel a counterattack forming in his mind, "we just need a catalyst, another Sith, maybe—or we could get Grievous—"
"No," Dookou stopped the boy, who looked up at him with wide, confused eyes. A slow grin spread across the Sith lord's features, and a single drop of sweat ran down the student's features. "You're right, my faithful apprentice. Come with me."
"Where?" Blood asked, excitedly bouncing along behind the older man, "Am I part of your plan?"
Dookou didn't answer, but instead led the young man along until they came to a large room that Blood had never visited before. The apprentice looked on as Master Dookou moved around the area with the same familiarity that Blood had when he fought alongside Rain.
Rain. Where was she? BloodLust hadn't noticed it before, but he felt almost lost without her—she was his best friend. More than that, she was his only friend.
"Get in here," Dookou interrupted the boy's thought with a sharp gesture towards a long metal board. Blood obeyed and held still while Dookou strapped him onto the plank. He trusted his master.
"Will I get to work with Rain?" the eighteen-year-old Sith apprentice asked with the same curiosity he had when he was five.
"Or course," the smile Dookou wore when he said the words wasn't very reassuring. "Now be still!" he commanded as the boy squirmed under a bright red laser that was pointed at his heart. "This will make you stronger."
Blood held still immediately, smiling trustingly at his master.
"No, don't worry," the older man smiled back. "this won't hurt a bit."
His smile was the one of a snake.
Blood's screams could be heard all throughout the citadel.
Through the desert. That was where I fled.
I drove a stolen speeder out of the city, not knowing where I would go afterwards. I knew I couldn't go into any spaceport or town—nest that I've shot, possibly killed Jabba the Hutt would've spread like a wildfire by now. Maybe I could live out in the desert for a few years, make a new name for myself until all this just died down…
Night was falling when the speeder ran out of fuel.
"No!" I yelled when I felt it stalling, slamming my fist onto the control panel when it slid to a stop. "Not now!"
crawled out and sat on the hood as the sun set, turning the whole landscape to gold and blood. I would appreciate the remaining warmth by the time it faded, I already knew that much. I began to shiver as the night grew colder, igniting my scarlet lightsabers. I would need their comforting warmth as well
Lighting a fire with my blades a few dried-out twigs, I curled up in the soft sand to wait out the night.
I ran. And ran. And ran.
All day the next day, I felt my strength slowly ebbing, being chipped away like a stone statue.
I knew I couldn't keep this up for long.
Not without water.
I went to sleep thirsty that night, the cracking dryness of my heat-scorched mouth and skin keeping me up until I simply passed out.
In the morning, I was drooping with dehydration and fatigue.
I didn't make it far.
The metal-clad figure stood silently in the Mos Eisely alleyway.
It was waiting.
It didn't like to wait.
"Sorry I'm—" the small Twi'lek thief ran straight into the unmoving figure, stumbling back a bit from surprise and fear.
"Late," the stranger spoke in a filtered voice, a voice that was deep and metallic.
Before the pickpocket could scream, the warrior's hand clasped around his throat and he was shoved against the hot, sandy wall.
"Which way did she go?" the tall man growled dangerously. The Twi'lek gulped hard, but ended up choking when it stopped at the stranger's rock-solid grip.
"Who?" he gagged, obviously stalling, but for what, he still wasn't sure.
"You know who," the armored figure hissed through his helmet. The bandit saw his terrified reflection in the mercenary's tinted visor and gulped again.
"South," he licked his lips nervously, "Into the desert. She won't live long, since she was on my bike, which is low on fuel." He managed a smirk, hoping the assassin saw this as a good thing, too.
The stranger nodded once.
And tighten his grip.
"Wh—what are you doing?" the thief cried.
Those were his last words.
I couldn't take it anymore.
The sun beat down on my like a percussionist, and the ever-growing pain in my head throbbed along to its deadly rhythm.
I couldn't take it.
There was no more fluid left in me to sweat.
I couldn't take…
I collapsed onto the ground, the hot, shifting sands burning my skin and blowing into my eyes.
I couldn't…
Shadows gathered at the edge of my vision, gradually taking the rest. I couldn't feel… anything.
I…
The cool wind rushed past the man's face, but he couldn't feel it through his mask. He couldn't feel anything anymore; the breath of wind, the stab of sympathy, the distraction of friendship…
He was little more than a tool now, one that had no emotions left.
Except one.
Bloodlust.