Bored with the limited channels available at this budget hotel, the son hits the TV remote. The irritating lights and sounds end, and he gets up to stretch. He sorta regrets staying in the room. When his parents and sisters said they wanted to tour a local elementary school, he thought that sounded miserable. But now he misses their company. At age ten, he's four years older than his twin sisters, but he only pretends to find them annoying. In truth, he feels like the luckiest big brother in the world.
He pulls out his phone, planning to figure out if the school's close enough to walk to after dark.
Then the window shatters inward.
The son shields his eyes, managing not to scream, though he flinches when a shard of glass slashes his cheek. Tonight's weather is clear and calm, with not a breath of wind. He looks about frantically, but can't find a brick or any other object that could explain why the window broke.
He should have kept his eyes on the window itself, not the floor.
Too late to run, he sees the dark-robed figure spring into the room. Glass crunches beneath the invader's boots, a fearsome mask covers his face, and at his belt he wears…
No… It's him...
The son turns to run, but an invisible force grips him. He's spun around and hurled upward to crash into the ceiling. Pinned, helpless, he can do nothing but look down upon this living nightmare.
"I expected to find the whole family here. How unfortunate."
The man's voice is cold, empty, though still menacing.
The son can't hide the fear in his quivering voice. "They're gone. You can't hurt them."
"I cannot… yet."
The invisible force crushes the boy into the ceiling, briefly making it impossible to breathe. Terror grips him, but he refuses to let the full scope of that fear show. Eventually, the pressure lets up just enough for him to fill his lungs.
"Tell me where your father is… and you can live. You're meaningless to me."
"I know… what you are… but Dad can still beat you."
"Then why not tell me where he is?"
The voice seems reasonable, but the boy hesitates. His father can probably defeat this man in an open fight, but if that battle took place in an elementary school…
"No."
The son's throat clenches in the evil man's invisible grip. "You're being childish. Just tell me where he is. There's no reason not to if you believe your father can defeat me. Surely you don't want to die for nothing."
The pressure abates, but the boy doesn't speak. If this monster attacked his father in a school, there could be terrible collateral damage. And if he took even one child hostage… "I won't help you."
The invisible force releases him, and the son falls facedown on the broken glass littering the floor. But this is only so the man can smash him right back into the ceiling so hard he nearly blacks out. An involuntary grunt bursts from him, and he's ashamed at how weak it sounds. His young voice, racked with pain, is pitiful.
But at least he isn't betraying his family.
The man steps closer, unclasping the complex metal cylinder at his belt. It's similar to the one belonging to the boy's father. But whereas the one makes the son feel safe, this one warns that he has moments to live.
It's a lightsaber.
The man reaches up, resting the emitter against the son's chest, right at his heart. "Last chance, little boy. Tell me what I want, or die for nothing."
Tears begin to flow, as the son knows this is it. Ten years was all he got.
But at least his family won't be taken by surprise at a school.
"No."
Despite his boyish voice, and the pain and fear shaping it into something small and frail… he manages to feel strong in that moment. He can be brave, even with death staring him in the face.
Until that moment, the son didn't know he had it in him.
The lightsaber ignites.
The Sith stares into the son's eyes, as the young face contorts in agony. But he can't help but feel a twinge of respect for the child. Despite the column of burning red plasma incinerating his heart, he doesn't scream.
Surprised to find that he almost likes the boy, the Sith gives him the dignity of not being hacked to pieces. He deactivates his lightsaber, leaving a charred hole through the small body.
He marches slowly toward the door, and releases his continuous Force push. Behind him, the boy falls to the floor, quivering but silent.
At the door, the Sith hesitates, not quite ready to leave yet. He will have to find the family on his own. This is worrying, since he depends on taking them by surprise. The father is dangerously capable. He ponders, wondering if it would be enough to simply lie in wait, ready to strike the moment the family returns. If the mother or either daughter enters first, they could make useful hostages, perhaps allowing him to–
A faint dread, a foreboding in the Force, gives him pause.
The Sith turns, cautiously approaches, and kneels at the son's side. The boy gasps out his final breath and lies still… but he has a phone in his hand. The Sith plucks it from the child's grip and stares at the screen in dread.
Despite the hole charred through his body, the boy sent a text message in his final moments.
"He's here. Be ready. I love you"
Stretching his senses, the father leaps from the car, leaving it to roll to a stop. He dashes into the hotel lobby, drawing his lightsaber, though not yet igniting it. His wife and daughters obeyed his command to remain at the school, despite their desperate desire to help. They know that their presence would likely only make things harder. The despicable man that hunts them wouldn't think twice to use them against the father. One hostage is already bad enough.
The father turns to sprint down the hallway, thankful that none of the other guests happen to be out of their rooms. If he can strike fast enough, perhaps he can overwhelm the enemy before he can execute his hostage.
Their room is at the end of the hall, and the father draws back a hand, ready to smash the door inward with the Force…
The enemy moves first. The door blasts outward, and the father's answering push shatters it to splinters. A dark figure dashes through, crimson blade whirling, hoping to seize the brief element of surprise.
It isn't enough.
The father's green blade flashes into existence, parrying the first strike and countering with furious intensity. For this monster to attack him directly, rather than using the son as leverage… His boy must already be…
Rage spikes, and for a moment the father feels the Dark Side calling. He smashes at the Sith's guard with overwhelming strength, hacking again and again with the vengeance of a father bereaved. The Sith gives ground, clearly terrified, barely managing to block the vicious strikes. The father thrusts out his left hand, hurling the Sith away with the strongest Force push he's ever performed. Dashing after him, the father hacks off his enemy's legs at the knees. The horrified and disoriented Sith fails to counter the next two strikes.
The murderer hits the floor. His arms land several meters away.
Blood pounding, the Dark Side calling to him, the father brings the tip of his lightsaber to the defeated enemy's throat. "Where's… my… SON?"
The Sith turns his head to the side, flinching away from the father's wrath. "I… I was foolish… I shouldn't have… I didn't mean…"
Forcing himself to look away from his helpless enemy, the father turns his eyes toward the room.
The small, still figure lies on his side. Silent.
Incredibly, the overflowing rage… drains away.
Looking on the body of his son, the father no longer feels hatred, or even anger. It is instead replaced with sadness.
Deactivating his lightsaber, the father leaves the Sith where he lies and dashes to his son. Kneeling at the boy's side, he takes the small body into his arms and holds it close. A blackened hole through the boy brings anguish to the father, and he's covered in small cuts from the broken glass. But the child's expression offers at least some comfort. Despite the obvious fear and pain of the son's final moments, there is a grim satisfaction there too.
He must have sent the message... after he was stabbed...
"Thank you… my dear boy. Your warning changed everything. Your mother and sisters never came anywhere near the monster that hunted us, and the danger is past." Clutching the boy even tighter, allowing the tears to flow, the father whispers, "I'm so proud of you."
Author's Note:
I didn't consciously make this story up. It's a dream I had last night. At the start, I didn't expect it to be Star Wars related, because the hotel room and the boy's pajamas were very much from modern day Earth. But once the Sith showed up, things got very real and I stopped caring about the unusual setting.
This dream also was unusual in that my perspective changed twice. As with this narrative, I started out as the son, then witnessed the murder through the eyes of the Sith, and lastly I was the father in the final confrontation. My "Breathmonger" dream was the first time I played the role of an evil villain. So the middle part of this dream makes it the second time ever that I was a monster. I'm glad that I got to be the father at the end, and put a stop to the scumbag's plans.