Got inspired by a tweet by JBandos about the post sequels Rey movie being about Ochi of Bestoon "haunting the narrative". I love the idea of that little punk Ochi haunting anything so I thought "what if that pathetic little worm squirmed in his death so much that he somehow manifested the dark side of the force to posses those crepy eyes he's got" and I had like 30 minutes to kill. First draft no proofreeding.
*Ploof*
Beam Barbuckle hit the dirt ass first, and grunted and gasped in confusion and grief. Moments ago he had been praying to the Force, surely facing death as he slipped into the Sliding Sands of Pasaana. He had come out here searching for The Loser's Eyes, a pair of priceless black gems so deep and so beautiful, whoever's glance pierce's their surface became utterly infatuated with the pair of gems. Beam didn't know much about Pasaana, only that they threw some festival every hundred rotations or something, and that at one rotation's event there was a 10 foot tall wookie and a man made out of gold being chased down by some troops of the old First Order way back in the day.
Beam surveyed his surroundings and checked his well-being. I'm not bleeding or dying, he thought to himself, and peered into the narrow tunnels carved into the rock in every direction. It was quiet, outside of the sound of the occasional tumbling of falling gravel, and this eerie, low, low, hum in the air. Beam jumped to his feet and brushed himself off, and lowered his goggles off of his messy brown hair. Beam was a human, he was around twenty, but with experience in 'treasure hunting' far beyond his age. Few syndicates remain in the galaxy since the New Republic burned what remained of the First Order down to its frame and stomped down the rest of it. Without the presence of a Jedi Order after the destruction of the First Order and the grotesque reincarnation of the Sith Lord, Emperor Sheev Palpatine, The Galactic Senate was unable to keep up the fight for a peaceful resolution to the conflict, allowing for an iron fist to snuff out any remaining imperial life, without mercy. This more militant government much preferred the workings of the Guild-style structure, especially after it basically took over Bounty Hunting. It was much easier to observe and control than the traditional cartel, so Guilds became the way of the galaxy, and Beam was one of the Guild's best.
Beam had heard about this gig after two Dowutin brothers, who had quite the reputation of being two tough motherkriffers, had returned to the Guild in shambles. The brothers had been shaking at the bar, downing pint after pint of whatever would get them to forget fastest. They had gone to Pasaana as a trio, with a scruffy Rodian they usually worked with, but all Beam could overhear in between gravelly weeps was "...scratching, he kept scratching" from one brother, and "He ripped them right out!" from the other.
Flicking a switch on the right side of his goggles, Beam activated his scanner, which deemed the immediate area safe, though that dim, quiet hum persisted. Now I just gotta find a way outta here he mused. These were the kind of moments where Beam reconsidered his stance on droids, he didn't really have anything against them, he just never liked using them, it always made him feel like a bad pet owner, or something. Beam popped his goggles back up and almost nonchalantly wandered through the tunnels, now illuminated by the glowrod he whipped out, but seemingly with every step that incessant humming got louder and louder and louder. Beam stopped and looked down, a footprint. No kriffing way I'm walkin' in circles, not a chance! And so he continued moving.
He took a left, one he was certain he hadn't taken before, but the only things in front of him were footsteps and humming, more, more humming. He back pedaled and took the nearest right. More footsteps. More humming. More Humming. How many times have I walked around this place? How long have I been here? He continued forward, swallowing the feeling of a dagger in his throat, trying to suppress his rising heart rate. He continued forward. At this point He just needed to keep moving forward. He walked over footsteps, and with each passing moment the humming grew louder and louder, until it filled his entire head. He stopped to catch his breath, stumbling into the wall. His head was pounding, filled with a deep hum that consumed every sound, every other thought in his mind, sweat nearly pouring from his brow as he hunched over. Why can't I think? Why can't I think? His heart thumped against his chest, and he squeezed his eyes shut hard, his eyes hurt so much. The hum grew and grew in his already throbbing head, threatening to burst. The deep hum swelled and swelled, until it sounded nearly like a scream, threatening to swallow his body whole. His eyes burned like there was a fire in his skull, what was happening to him? Why did his eyes burn? And in one moment he looked up, and it all went quiet. His heart settled in his chest, and he could hear himself think for what felt like the first time in his life, but his eyes burned so that his entire face felt like he was sitting in front of a campfire, like he used to do on those slow, late nights at the Guild. That swift moment felt like the best, but last peace he would ever feel. He looked at the floor in his newfound quiet, and in front of him lay two corpses. One long dead, who knows how long, stripped down to its bones. The other was fresher, just starting to rot. It was a Rodian, Beam noticed, but as he swallowed this hard truth, he noticed he had been rubbing at the area around his eyes. No, scratching. They had burned so much, and he could barely stop himself from digging his nails into his skin and eyelids, to attempt to soothe this ceaseless burn. When Beam was finally able to control himself for a moment, he glanced down at the decomposing rodian, his face bloody, and eyes, mere hollow holes at the end of those tall blue-green stalks, the remains of what looked like popped water balloons hanging around the edges of each. No… no, Beam thought, as he fought to keep his hands away from his eyes, but they burned, oh they burned like nothing Beam had ever felt. He turned his attention away, to the ancient skeleton next to the former Guild member. Cast, dropped among the figure of bones lay two small, black jewels, deeper than black void of the emptiest sectors of the galaxy. the Eyes! Beam had almost forgotten why he was here, and scooped up the gleaming black gems from the dirt floor. Beam's entire body froze, except for the constant burning around his face, the Eyes… He thought.
Every ounce of warmth Beam had ever known, and every breath Beam had ever taken, had left his body in an instant. I can't move! I can't move! Beam thought, panicking, drenched in sweat, fearing for his life. Just then The Loser's Eyes floated out of his grip and into the air in front of him. The humming returned, ringing in Beam's head, stealing any power Beam had left over his own thoughts. A red, shadowy figure began to appear around the Eyes, and thunder boomed far, far ahead. The hum grew and grew, as the figure developed in front of him. The squat, scarlet, shadow nearly solidified around the eyes, unsure of its own form, neither in this world nor the next, and what seemed to be a bitter, wrinkly face most prominently showed around the Loser's Eyes, and it starred back into Beam's own, making his eyes roar like lava. He began to scratch them again, unable to hold back any longer, unaware that he had even gained control of his arms back. He tore at his face and he began to bleed, begging for this nightmare, this burning hell to end. The Hum crescendoed more, and more, and more, and Beam's heart thumped into his chest. The screams returned, and swelled and swelled until it burst into a shout, a cry, a howl… a command, one word from the dusty, evil silhouette possessing the Loser's Eyes. Power.
Beam ravaged his own eyes and face, taking nail to flesh, tearing away any sense he had left from this terrible, terrible life. The screams never stopped, they would never stop. The terrible, terrible figure crept forward and Beam tore away at himself. Even after he left his face bloodied, shreds of skin hanging away from open, empty, lifeless, holes, he stood frozen, endlessly aware of every step the darkness ahead took. It was impossible to sense the hatred and fear emanating off of the figure, illustrating its horror in Beam's mind, yet he still scratched away at what were his eyes. Fire burned in his face, screams echoed in his mind, and this dark spirit crept ever closer. Humiliation and shame and guilt stung in the air, and Beam's hands darted from his head to his gut clutching at what felt like an impossible level of nausea. He could hear the thing making an attempt at laughter through the screams as it approached him. Power, it called for power, complete control over all, the need to crush every life in its palm, to suck every drop of blood and every ounce of life out of every body. Beam felt the shadow stop, inches from his own face, lowered from cowering in a twisted sickness. Screams. Burning. A churning lightsaber in his stomach. Beam felt a steamy, hot puff of air hit his face, adding to the heat. A dead, sickening breath, that reeked of engine coolant. "Power", He heard the thing wheeze, sensing a nonexistent leather grin stretched across its fluid and dusky, yet tight and dry face. Just then, a cooler sensation moved to Beam's face. It was heaven. It was every cold glass of water Beam had ever chugged, every splash in the turquoise ocean's of Eiram. For just a moment, Beam felt like everything was going to be ok. But the screaming cut through. And the refreshing wave of cold grew ever closer, and ever colder, until Beam didn't feel any burning at all, only a deep, cold pit inside of himself, a gravity well sucking in all light and life around it. It was eating Beam. When it felt like Beam might freeze to death, when even that pounding heart had slowed to nearly a stop, he felt two ice cold, smooth ovals pop into the holes he had ripped into his face, where his own eyes once sat. His mind screamed in hatred and anguish and slept in the softest silence. His heart rammed in his chest like an Elphronan Steelee and stood as still as stone. His eyes seared in terrible pain and shivered in the deepest cold. He felt his face tighten around his skull and lose its form completely. His gut and mind oozed sorrow and fear, and his lips pursed around his teeth, and he uttered one word. Power.