Chapter 21
Mol Zondarg's eyes burned with determination as he scanned their surroundings. Liberation Legion, their faces marked with resolve, followed closely behind, their weapons in hand.
Vader had entrusted him with leading this assault. While the Zabrak admittedly would have preferred leading the assault on Jabba's palace like the Gella sisters and many others, his animalistic instincts would settle with the slavers in the city.
Zondarg spotted a group of slavers mistreating a defenseless slave, a young boy trembling in fear. He raised his blaster and took aim, his shots true and swift. The slavers' fell without even knowing what hit them, as the young boy looked up, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and gratitude.
Zondarg crouched before the Rattataki boy and rubbed a hand on his bald head in reassurance. "Fear not, child. You are free now. These two will take you to safety."
The young boy, still shaken, managed a faint smile as Zondarg motioned to two within his battalion, and they gently took him to a nearby safehouse. Zondarg's gaze shifted to his Legion, their eyes gleaming with newfound purpose.
"Like Vader said: Slavers! Show them no mercy! Save as much as possible! Remove the chips!"
Eventually, they found another group of slavers, settling their weapons on them, still unseen.
With a battle cry, Liberation Legion charged forward, unleashing a barrage of blaster fire upon the slavers. Chaos ensued as the slavers scrambled to defend themselves, but they were no match for Zondarg's well-trained force.
Soon, their presence was detected.
It didn't change anything.
Like many others, Zondarg moved with calculated precision, his blaster cutting down slavers one by one. His soldiers, fighting with a mix of fury and relief, joined the fray, liberating slaves and striking fear into the hearts of their oppressors.
It was certainly odd - Vader's not leading the charge - yet this does not discourage them. They have been preparing themselves for such operations for weeks.
As the battle raged on, Zondarg's voice rose above the tumult, commanding his troops with unwavering resolve, voice booming.
Innocent slaves, emboldened by Zondarg's presence, rise up against their captors, fighting for their own freedom. The tide turns decisively in favor of the oppressed as the former slaves quickly established control.
Zondarg's eyes glowed with intense determination as he surveyed the battlefield, his heart filled with both sorrow and hope. He knew that the fight against slavery was far from over, but every life saved, and chips being removed was a step towards justice.
Their spies have been busy.
"Press on! We shall not falter until every slave stands free!"
The liberators, united in purpose, continued their march through the slaver's city, leaving a trail of liberation in their wake. Zondarg, a beacon of strength and defiance, led the charge, his resolve unwavering.
In minutes of overtaking the city, they were in a sprawling slave bazaar, filled with cages and chains, standing as a grim testament to the cruelty of the slave trade.
The rebels dashed through from the main entrance, blaster fire erupting. Slavers, caught off guard, scrambled to defend their ill-gotten possessions.
The battle for freedom commenced as they duck for cover, shooting at whatever idiot in sight.
Zondarg moved with agility and purpose, his blaster firing precise shots, neutralizing slavers while sparing the innocent, baring his fangs challengingly.
His Legion fought alongside him, their determination unrelenting as they freed their fellow captives from their cages.
Zondarg spotted a slaver attempting to flee, dragging a young Twi'lek girl by a chain. How long ago had it been them who were constrained like that? Anger welled up inside him, and with a swift shot, he disarmed the slaver of his life, freeing the girl from her torment.
It was truly sickening that there were so many slavers who took an interest in children. Adults - namely women - had it bad enough, but the fact that they had targeted children was far more sickening. Hopefully, they would be able to help them mentally when Vader succeeded.
He had no doubt about Vader's abilities. None of them do and ever would again. They would be successful because they have to be, and nothing can stop this imposing force of might.
Further on. The liberators unleashed a relentless assault, shooting down slavers and dismantling the infrastructure of oppression. The cries of desperation turned into cheers of freedom as the innocent slaves were united with their liberators.
They fought with a vengeance, their blasters blazing, their spirits unbreakable. Slavers fell before them, their reign of terror crumbling under the weight of Mol Zondarg's righteous fury.
Soon, all the chips would be out in the slaves in the city, but Mol knew it did not here next.
To his surprise, Mol learned grimly, that there were slaves standing on the side of the slavers. Damn slug! There was even more in the pens, and especially the warehouses...
As noon descended upon the desert landscape, the distant rumble of approaching footsteps reverberated through the palace. The ground quaked under the weight of the army's advance, a harbinger of the impending storm. The tension within the palace grew thicker, like a smothering fog.
Those inside who were unfortunate enough to be the foes of this enemy and his companions would understand true fear and pain. It was funny to recall that faithful day when the ever-impending Empire under Jabba the Hutt faltered. While there were of course revolts in the past, they have been swiftly dealt with.
But this revolution was different. Under the lead of an individual that apparently appeared from the desert gods, he managed to avoid any detection for weeks on end, having set up underground bases and claimed hold of one part of Tatooine. Later, this would be where the story took a pivotal turning point, where forever the galaxy undergone an unexpected change.
Of course, how could this impact the fate of the galaxy? One may ask, given Tatooine was nothing more than a sandy planet, nothing more than a lowly slave-invested. In a few years after this, people would see Tatooine differently.
Deep within the opulent chambers of Jabba the Hutt's palace on Tatooine, the air was heavy with the stench of power and tension. The flickering light of Holoprojectors cast eerie shadows on the walls.
The true vigilante claimed not to be a Jedi, yet he wielded their blades with ease and could use their majestic powers, effortlessly countering the turrets that his technicians have built in without even so much as moving a step, while his allies picked off whoever attempted to assault his defenses.
Still, part of him wondered if it was really a human under that hood or an alien.
Unlike in the previous recording where he purged the entire slave market, this cloaked individual was only wielding one of his lightsabers, the rest of the former slaves following behind him in tandem.
Jabba had to give it to his guards, the fact that they were taking on this hooded foe head on was to be commended... if only they'd been able to live to tell the tale about what it was like to take on such a challenge.
He thought that the vigilante would hesitate at sending out slaves, who have been broken completely as he increased their torment, would have caused them to drop their weapons and surrender before him-bringing an end to this. Surprisingly, they cut through them as well. Did the vigilante cared so little for the slaves?
Still, Jabba couldn't help but wonder. What had sparked this vigilante to come to him now when it seemed like moving from the shadows was preferable for his tactics? Someone else had foolishly sacrificed himself. What did he have to gain?
Regardless of the reasoning, soon, Jabba sensed the brewing storm outside. His bulbous eyes narrowed, and his massive body quivered with a mixture of rage and apprehension. He noted the Gamorrean warriors who had been scrambling to reinforce the palace's defenses. Even they could feel the tremors of uncertainty coursing through their master.
As the army breached the outer walls, the sound of clashing weapons and battle cries reached Jabba's ears from a distance. His anger flared. His wrinkled features twisted into a hideous snarl, revealing rows of sharp teeth. His immense tail thrashed about, smashing priceless artifacts and sending tremors through the chamber.
"Is the creature ready?" Jabba asked one of his Overseers.
"Yes, my Lord."
"Good, be prepared."
Looking back at the cameras, he saw that... wait what?
The army broke off and began to storm in opposite directions while the vigilante continued moving forward. Fortunately, the corridors were guarded and well-armed, but it would be better to ensure they were prepared.
"Guards at the dungeons, be prepared!" Cuthus shouted into his com, looking at Cliegg Lars who was still held behind a bunch of Jabba's henchmen.
Hopefully, they would be able to retaliate accordingly.
As the vigilante moved closer to the heart of the palace, Jabba's anger reached its zenith. The palace became a hive of frenzied activity, as slavers and henchmen alike hurried to fulfill his commands, their eyes filled with terror and a desperate desire to survive.
Bounty hunters were surrounding him in the throne room, their blasters also aimed at the door. Not all were too worthy, some that Jabba was admittedly desperate to hire. In hindsight, he wished that he was able to contact even more skilled bounty hunters.
He heard one final scream before nothing at all. Many of them breathed sighs of relief.
Surprisingly it all ended, the fleeing sounds of blaster bolts slowly coming to an end.
Did that mean someone got him?
Silence...
Still, Jabba couldn't resist turning his ire on the captured man, still held in cuffs, being forced to bow by two of his henchmen.
"You have been lying to us the whole time," Jabba snarled at the man.
The man smiled weakly up at him. "It was worth it."
"Have you learned nothing throughout your time as our guest?" Cuthus asked sharply.
Lars allowed a weak chuckle. "I learned how much of an asshole you are."
"Your deception would make your death ever the more painful." In truth, the only reason why he was still alive was because of the bargaining chip he could have been.
Jabba ordered. "Whip the skin off his back."
Cuthus grinned. "With pleasure."
He grabbed the whip from his belt and started beating down on the idiot's back.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The man recoiled. Contributed by the last hours screaming under the many torture sessions, the man couldn't hold out what was to come much longer. When he was broken, he would be molded into a perfect slave, as a perfect example of what would have happened going against them.
The durasteel began squealing and denting, causing some of them to reach for their ears at the raspy noise. Jabba didn't even had time to reach as with a thunderous crash, the heavy door to the throne room was tossed out just shunning of Jabba's neck, creating a giant hole in the wall as it fell out of the palace.
They caused all of them to turn their aim at the door, waiting. Pistols, rifles, and carbines locked onto him, along with the built-in defenses.
The smoke cleared up, revealing, in that moment, the hooded figure in all his might, lightsaber still activated at his side.
Some of them couldn't control their urges as well and fired, and the vigilante nonchalantly swung his lightsaber around three times, dropping the unfortunate fools onto the ground.
He slowly tilted his head up, not to Jabba but to Cuthus. His eyes were a hot golden.
He was much more intimidating up close.
"If you even raise that whip one more time, I'll feed you your skull, Naroon Cuthus."
The crimson lightsaber seemed to be crackling, signifying the owner's anger.
Cuthus dropped his whip and reached for his blaster pistol, aiming it at the vigilante.
The Hutt snarled. "Vigilante."
"Sharp as ever," the vigilante snarked.
Vader usually felt at least sated when it came to ending each life these days. Each kill didn't leave him feeling the satisfaction that would have accompanied him against slavers, thugs, and mercenaries. Was every Zabrak, Twi'lek, Togruta, and the like one of Jabba's many lackeys or innocent slaves sent to distract them?
Vader supposed it didn't matter. There had been troopers on the opposite side before. Slaves' blood on his hands from his time as Darth Vader. Innocent people on the side of the Separatists as Anakin Skywalker forced to take up arms.
Outright, the Hutts and slavers were monsters, and the Republic should have done something about that mess long ago and more lives probably could have been saved. Cliegg wouldn't have to suffer as much just for the sake of saving the man who he viewed as a friend if not something more.
And now here he was inside Jabba's palace. Not as Sith Lord Darth Vader but a simple hermit or shop owner with years behind his back. He saw scars traveling down Cliegg's body, showing clear indications of torture that Cliegg had gone through already. His clothing was ripped. His lip was bloody. His nose seemed to be busted as well. Both eyes were bruised. His recently punished back was turning a hot red.
Had it been him, he knew that Jabba's lackeys wouldn't have been able to get that far with him, for he would gladly let himself out, including removing the slug from the occasion.
Due to a bond of friendship and brotherhood that so recently been forged, Cliegg's current condition angered him incredibly. And that had been the only reason why Vader didn't allow the Dark Side in completely and kill everyone, for if only unintentionally, he may injure Cliegg in the process.
"We saw what ya did to your own kind," a Weequay spoke mockingly.
"Oh, those poor beings who deserved so much more, could have gotten it too," Cuthus chuckled mockingly. "Till you and your allies started killing them. Hypocrite much?" That earned chuckles from the rest of them.
"I have come to make you pay for what you have done," Vader said, enhancing the coldness in the Force, relishing in their slight squirms.
The Hutt pressed a button on his console, raising a deflector shield around his throne, as the room around them started to shake, becoming colder...
"You have walked in here, thinking that this would be easy," the Hutt responded. "But I know you crusader types. Join me, and I will give you everything you could ever ask for."
The call of the Dark Side came yet again. With the Force itself, he twisted their confidence to fear, implanting it inside of them that would have impressed Freedon Nadd himself if he'd seen the display.
"You are a fool for thinking I would even contemplate joining you, Jabba." He wasn't going to sugarcoat the situation. "Look at you; you all are just mad fools barely clinging onto power. A new era is coming. Soon, Jabba's rule would be nothing more than a relic of a bygone era."
The coldness amplified. And oh, how pleasing it was to see their fear, even if it was implanted by him.
"Th-those slaves in the dungeon. They will soon be brought over to our side." Cuthus replied, anxiousness in his tone like expected due to the Force itself. "Don't you see? Even if you get those slaves out, we have already planted our heels in too deeply. Those slaves back in Espa have all been fitted with new transmitters, one that is not control by a tower, but our allies across the galaxy."
And Vader resisted the dragon of the Dark Side as much as it ached him to do so. But oh, it had been so tempting, however, the memory of his son would always piercing through him.
Briefly, he locked eyes with his secret ally. The spy gave a subtle nod. Vader bitterly smirked. He was still seeing if he would succeed before making any moves, blasters aimed at his direction along with the rest of the bounty hunters.
Jabba hissed. "I know you wouldn't surrender, and I no longer need you to. But the question is would you waste your time in killing me and my henchmen or save your friend?"
He slammed his fist down on a button next to him.
The trapdoor beneath Cliegg's feet opened, big and wide-dropping him to the shaft below.
Vader moved to the shaft and jumped in, using the Force to increase his own fall into what may be his impending doom.
Built in turrets from the sides aimed at him, coming to life. Vader pulled him into his arms, using his lightsaber to bat away all bolts from both of them. Each of them let out mini explosion one by one as he descended into the bottom of a pit 50 feet below Jabba's throne room - was it like that in the future or was it some improvisions that the Hutt made just for them - Vader slowing their fall.
Everyone in the throne room moved around the pit to watch the coming spectacle, including Jabba, who laughed heartily as his throne scooted right up to the edge.
Vader landed on his feet, both relatively unharmed. After checking to ensure he was alright, he released him. The man fell back, and Vader undo his cuffs, seeing his bloody.
Cliegg finally spoke after several seconds. "Why didn't you just kill him right then and there?"
"I rather not have Owen grow up an orphan." Never.
Cliegg bit his lip, wincing in pain at that. "You should have waited. I could have endured his torment. That was a foolish move."
"Who's more foolish, the fool or the fool who follows him?" Vader replied pointedly.
For all the man's idiotic behavior, he was one of the most loyal people he ever met.
They hear a creak, turning to look at the direction of the noise.
"Oh, now what?" Cliegg groaned.
Vader had a feeling that their troubles were far from over.
From beyond the iron door, a giant creature emerged, the beast allowing out a deep, loud bellow as it stalked forward. Up above, Jabba and the rest of the audience laughed, and cheered at their predicament.
From a distance, Vader could see it wasn't a rancor. It was something worse, something that almost no humanoid would have wanted to encounter.
Cliegg saw what it was too.
"Ah bantha poodoo, just our luck," Cliegg snapped, standing behind Vader, bruised eyes widened.
Vader absently nodded in agreement. Their opponent in front of them, growling and roaring monstrously as its eyes locked onto them, with a devouring gaze...
Was a krayt dragon.