Hey it's LongLoreLover. I'll update this probably Wednesday since I already have the next chapter written and I have to focus on my other stories, but yeah pm if you have questions, and as always , please review!

-A Day Ago
"Hello?" James called into Dunnovoocha's intercom. The gate was open, but he didn't want to just enter. Dunnovoocha might have sent for him, but rich men usually like to be in control. He waltzing right in may also trigger any safeguards that were in the premise. So he waited...for an hour. To pass the time, Bulvoochi listened to the radio, checked updates on his Facebook, tweeted a few bored tweets. Took picture of his muscles and posted them on Instagram, got into a mega-online argument on Yahoo!, and finally posted a few movie reviews on Netflix. Eventually, he decided that whatever Dunnovoocha wanted him for was not important. He turned the keys of his car, and waited for the hum.
The dashboard stayed dark. "Valerie. Turn on!" His car remained off. Knowing this was part of Dunnovoocha's welcome, James got out the car, and started towards the ultra-billionaire- possibly-a-trillionaires house. It was a weird mixture of red, gold, and white, with all the colors drawn in stripes, dots, combined in mixtures. The house was tall, possibly 100 feet, and at least half-a-mile wide.
"Why the hell does he have that much space?" James was a conservationist, in theory. He believed that people should only do what they should to survive, but that didn't stop him from riding first-class.. His personally tailored shoes, clacked on the red carpet that led to the house. It had a massive balcony, and as James walked down the what seemed to be a mile long stretch of carpet, he noticed massive stone pillars, each expertly carved with animal faces and words; Lion, Brave, Raven, Death, Green Mumba, Doom, Siberian Husky, Companion, Human, Cancer...
They were enrapturing, yet scared the hell out of Bulvoochi, who never before had watch R-rated movies in his life as a boy or a young man. Once he felt he reached the halfway point on the carpet, cameras started to flash, as if he was a movie star. There was no one to take the pictures, but the cameras, top of the line, clicked and flashed. James felt breathlesss, but walked anyway, until temptation overcame him and he started posing every hundred feet or so. He posed, facing both sides, so every camera got a share of his back-side and front. He twirled, and laughed as confetti started to rain on him once he got to the door. It was beauty, and he was..he was...!
"You're bugged..."Crislin's voice said as the poly-urethane oak and elm door swung open noiselessly. James suddenly felt embarrassed that such a rigid man had seen him flaunt around as a child. It did not hit him until a few seconds later that Dunnovoocha said he was bugged.
"What do you mean I'm bugged? No one touched me..."

Crislin's lips still pursed in a thin line. "Those cameras and such are not for your amusement. They take pictures of your clothes and cross scan them together into a highly precise and detailed check of your body. I meet with over a hundred dangerous men a day, all of which would love to kill me, or find out exactly where in the global game am I. The confetti neutralizes and alerts me that I have been bugged, as well as back-traces the signal. In this case, you were bugged by...

"Who? Who was I bugged by?" James asked when Crislin stopped speaking.

"DragonDen. You were bugged...By DragonDen."

James shook his head. "That's not right. Perhaps one of your competitors have foiled with their signature, to throw you off their trail?"

Crislin stroked his beard, as if the thought never dawned on him. "Perhaps...but this will fit with my plans. I was going to have to do it sooner or later."

James and Dunnovoocha walked into the house. The Greeting room was ornamentally decorated with a hanging cache of diamonds and rubies glinting above, and a fur skin floor. James whispered a silent prayer for the Cheetah that died, before taking off his shoes. "May I?" he asked Crislin. The man shrugged, and walked further on. James went back to their conversation. "What will you have to do sooner or later?"

"Get started." Crislin told him. James wouldn't budge. "Are you going to harm DragonDen?!" he asked in growing horror. The only answer Crislin gave him was a cruel smirk. "Guards!" he barked, and three men dropped from the hundred foot tall ceiling. They landed in a triangle around James, glaring at him with dead eyes. James started to back up, but they closed the triangle on him, until it was one in front of him, and two barring his retreat backwards.

"Take him to the workshop. Everything he needs will be there."

"I'll never help you!" James bravely stated, but it only made Dunnovoocha laugh. "You misunderstand me Mr. Bulvoochi. You are in the home of a trillionaire," he halted his speech to walk up to James face. The robots grabbed his arms and pinned them to his back. Crislin got so close that James could smell the power, the security coming off him.

"You are in the home of a trillionaire." Crislin stated again. "I can make you do anything I want..."

And before James could say a word, or try to headbutt the man, he was dragged away, screaming until his echoes faded...

"It's over Buindundilo!" Drake screamed, charging into a dark room. Immediately he thought of retreating, but a hissing green bars suddenly sprang into existence behind him, barring his escape. He glanced backwards with one angry glance, and then focused on the cool air around him. Ghost lit up a small circle of light around the lone Jedi, but nothing showed itself. "Buindundilo ran in here, I'm sure of it!" Drake spared a quick thought for Big Daddy, I mean where was he?! Despite his size, BD was annoyingly sharp on keeping to schedule, and he always arrived on time. The lights blasted on, Drake painfully squinted, and Ghost continued to grr.
"It's over intruder!" Buindundilo's voice emanated. Even after several seconds, Drake still could not see. He squinted at where the sound was coming from, but the pain in his pupils made it hard to concentrate. Apparently Buindundilo didn't know of Drake's disposition, for Drake caught him in mid-sentence. "-and now the world shall achieve peace and harmony, with me as a figurehead for the wise, the might, Crislin Dunnovoocha and Alcatri Delnavi! Behold, our sentinels!"
Drake dimly noticed a dark fuzz behind Buindundilo, and as it fell to reveal even more light, he figured a curtain must've been the dark fuzz. Now dotting specks of the light were dark blotches, impassive. "What the hell is wrong with my eyes?!" Drake asked himself, and anything that could hear him. Nothing yielded an answer, but his vision suddenly returned with its previous clarity, and he looked at thirty soldiers, machine guns held at their hips. They didn't move, and had a dead look in their eyes. Their skin looked lifelike, but it lacked a certain luster that only being alive could give you.
"What are those?" Drake rasped. Buindundilo laughed, chest heaving with his amusement. "These, are your destruction! Hunter-9s, attack!" The men suddenly brought their guns to firing position, and pulled the trigger. Drake tightened his grip on his lightsaber, and charged. One broke the two line formation, face holding the same, unfearful or battle-lusted expression as its counterparts as Drake neared. The man kept up a steady rate of fire, but Drake's enhanced reflexes allowed for him to intercept every round that he sensed would hit him. The air thrilled with its light voice, telling of how it could feel itself yielding to the force of the bullet, right until it would hit Drake, the ground on which Drake ran, which told him in a blank voice that they could see the trajectory below, as did the ceiling above, and then the rough, intensely emotional bullet itself, which from a first-person perspective, would suck Drake's mind into its place, showing him how he looked, as it sped towards him, and how it felt that it, the bullet, would hit the mark. All this, in fractions close to the smallest humans can measure, was what allowed Drake to survive, for he had not the first natural clue of how to block a bullet with a lightsaber. That, and the energy that allowed him for force people into walls, and pull things to him, flooded his body, and allowed him react in ways that he felt made him part god.
Drake slid on the ground, swinging at the man's knees. Ghost moved through with almost no feel of ever meeting resistance, but the knee joint was gone. The man fell, but he did so wordlessly, without a yell or scream. And much stranger? As Drake battled with the onslaught of life energy around him that threatened to drive him mad, he was met with a still calm when he passed over the men that Buindundilo deployed. Drake's curiosity and guesses were stanched but a moment later when the man fell on his front. Drake brought his lightsaber up, and stabbed downward, right through the fifth vertebrae.
No scream, no pain, Drake felt no spike in energy, energy that the dead man did not give. Only the man was not dead, for whom would grab onto Drake's leg with unagonized eyes while a lightsaber still ran through his chest, and who would be a man, when they did not say anything, and simply grabbed their gun with their free hand before trying to fire once more?
Drake kicked the machine free of his leg, and swung at the base of the neck, separating it from the body. Drake turned to deal with the other robots when he was suddenly elbowed in the kidney. Collapsing to his knees from the pain and shock, Drake turned and "pushed" the android behind into a sharp spire. Sparks shot out from the hole in its diaphragm, but extracted itself off nonetheless, and commenced to reloading its automatic. Drake cut the weapon in two, and the machine stared emptily at where the two pieces of its weapon had once been fused before Drake sliced the body in half down the middle, and then lobbed every limb away. Drake screamed as he worked, annoyance winning out, after all when you kill something, you expect it to stay dead! It comes back once, a little freaky, but nothing you will permanently hate. Twice, you tell it to stay dead, but a third time and you just want it over with.
Drake's arms may have been able to deal with the torment of bullets, but his body soon grew tired from his exertions, and he fell back behind a pile of robot bodies he had created in the center of the room. Only eleven androids remained, and they held their fire, for it was useless to shoot a protected enemy. Drake breathed deeply, trying to control his lungs, which were inflating and deflating rapidly. He felt like he couldn't get enough air, that he would be crushed unless he inhaled. His arms burned, and the heat from Ghost was making his hands sweat. Finally he noticed the robots had dropped their guns.
Drake stood up. "What's the matter!? Are you giving up before I make you guys aluminum foil?"

"No. Although we have realized that our guns do not fit the parameters needed to defeat you any longer. Activating battle strategy: Peace-Keeper, in 5..4.. 3...

"What the hell is PeaceKeeper?" Drake shouted at them while they continued to count down. 2...1... All the robots stayed still. "So you guys are going to try and make peace with me or something?"

Instead, they all drew lightsabers of their own. Each was a cold ocean blue color, but Drake's eyes widened at the force assembled before he, and backed away from his pile, for it would be cut up just as easily as his own skin. Even more to lower Drake's spirits was Ghost's battery level, which read at a critical 18%. If he engaged these androids, Ghost may run out of power before he took them all down. Another quick glance, and the doors are still barred. Buindundilo has escaped, as has Anatricla. But someone else is in the room, hands clasped behind his back. Drake turns off Ghost, determined to use it only if needed.

"Who are you?!" he demanded. The figure stepped forward, until Drake knew without a doubt who he was.
"Stephen." Drake breathed, as he glanced at his younger brother...