Chapter 7 - Vigilante
Edric stood in the cramped locker room, the air thick with humidity and the scent of bodily fluids from the gathered diverse fighters. His reflection stared back at him from a small, grimy mirror, the simple tunic he wore barely covering the sweat glistening on his skin. Around him, humans and aliens alike prepared for their fights. A Gigoran rubbed a healing salve on his bruised knuckles, while a Kel Dor tightened the straps on her combat boots. Nearby, a Wookiee grumbled in pain as a medical droid tended to his wounds.
Edric's veins burned with excitement and anticipation quickened his heartbeat. Still, a voice in his head—possibly a remnant of his Jedi training—warned him that embracing violence could lead him down a dangerous path. For once in his life however, he felt truly confident. Ever since his growth spurt, physical training had come easily, and he finally had something he excelled at.
He left the Jedi Order, but his mind kept replaying his former master's words, cautioning him of what he was about to do. He knew Master Asher wouldn't approve. You are no longer a Jedi, you can do things that are not according to their rules, Edric reminded himself. Except, being a Padawan was all he had ever known, and leaving that life behind had left its scars, no matter how much he wanted to ignore them. He could run from his past, but it would eventually catch up to him. He had to face it—just not now and not today.
Another voice warned him that whenever he grew too sure of himself, the Force had a way of teaching a lesson through spectacular failure. He decided even before stepping inside the building that it would be unfair to use the Force during the fight, so he promised himself he would refrain from doing so.
He took a few deep breaths, trying to silence the conflicting thoughts and the noise of different languages around him. The distant roars and boos of the crowd outside sounded like a swarm of insects. He visualized his sanctuary—a field of tall grass swaying in the wind—and let the calmness wash over him before opening his eyes again.
A Tognath stepped into the room, his mechanical respirator hissing with each breath. "Kane! Naze!" he called out, his voice distorted and echoing in the small space. Edric turned to see his opponent for the first time. Naze was a towering figure, his muscular frame seemingly carved from stone. Veins bulged unnaturally under his skin, and Edric suspected he might not be a completely natural specimen. Enhancement drugs were abundant down on this level, but complaining about it here, in an underground brawling ring, was pointless. The man flashed a grin, baring his teeth in an attempt to intimidate, but Edric showed no reaction.
Zeek, the Bith who had become Edric's makeshift coach on short notice, sidled up beside him, his large black eyes filled with concern. "Well, he's a big one," Zeek muttered, his fingers twitching nervously. "But I'm sure you can make short work of him, my friend. Like those Trandoshans, right?"
Edric nodded, though he sensed Zeek's words were more to calm his own nerves than Edric's. "I'll be fine, Zeek," he said.
Zeek gave him a thumbs up, but Edric noticed a flicker of unease. He crossed his arms, fed up with the Bith's avoidance of uncomfortable truths. "What is it, Zeek?" he asked.
"Oh, it's nothing, my friend," Zeek started, but seeing Edric's resolute stance, quickly cleared his throat. "I…uh, may have put some credits on your win," he finally admitted.
Great, Edric thought and let out a sigh. There was no time for a lecture about gambling. Shaking his head, he turned and left for the ring, Zeek's bet adding to the pressure.
The Tognath gestured for them to follow, leading Edric and Naze through a narrow hallway. The corridor was dark, with the only illumination being the ring's glow not far in the distance. The walls seemed to close in around them as they approached, creating an almost claustrophobic atmosphere.
As Edric stepped into the arena, the blinding lights momentarily disoriented him. He raised his right arm to shield his eyes from the intense beams. The roar of the crowd surged around him, a mix of cheers, jeers, and alien languages. He couldn't make out more than dark silhouettes waving in the backdrop of the strong lights. The smell hit him next—a pungent blend of blood, sweat, alcohol, and smoke that clung to the air like an invisible fog. He could almost taste them on his tongue.
The ring was an octagonal pit, surrounded by buzzing ray shields that crackled with lethal energy. Edric guessed that staying in contact with them for too long could mean death. He took his place, feeling the sand shifting under his feet. The announcer explained the simple rules in Huttese to the crowd: fight until one of them was either unconscious, dead, or gave up.
Naze assumed his stance, descending onto his hands with his legs poised for a lunge. He looked like a Reek bull, coiled and ready to charge.
The crowd's roar faded into the background, and Edric's vision narrowed to the man before him. With a final, resounding clang of a gong, the fight began.
Edric grounded himself, preparing to block the impending charge. There was a tension in his muscles, every fiber of his being alert and ready.
Suddenly, Naze lunged forward, sand scattering beneath his hands and feet. Edric braced himself, but in a blink, Naze hurled sand toward Edric's face. Pain seared through the former Padawan's eyes as if thousands of knives were twisted in them.
Taking advantage of Edric's daze, Naze tackled him to the ground, pinning him with legs pressed firmly onto Edric's chest. The brute's weight was immense, suffocating. Naze's fists rained down like relentless hammers, each blow reverberating through Edric's skull. His vision blurred and he could feel his consciousness slipping into darkness.
He wasn't sure how, but Edric managed to free one arm. He caught one of Naze's fists mid-air, twisting the wrist sharply. Naze let out a guttural snarl, momentarily distracted by the pain. Edric seized the opportunity, freeing his other hand and shoving Naze off him.
Scrambling to his feet, Edric tasted the iron tang of blood in his mouth. He spat and wiped the grit from his eyes as he moved closer to the crackling ray shields. Gesturing to Naze, he taunted, "Come on, is that all you got?"
Naze growled, the sound deep and resonant like a predator's roar. He approached with cautious aggression, fists raised. The two circled each other, the fight morphing into a brutal dance of punches and kicks.
Edric blocked a series of heavy blows, countering with quick jabs, trying to understand his opponent's strategy. Except, there wasn't one. He could see—sense the rage in Naze, his eyes wild with bloodlust, veins bulging at his temples.
Edric sidestepped a powerful swing and delivered a sharp elbow to Naze's gut, feeling the breath rush out of the larger man. But Naze recovered quickly, his massive hand snaking out to grab Edric by the neck. With a forceful yank, Naze brought Edric crashing to the ground, pinning him face-down in the sand.
Struggling against the crushing hold, Edric planted his palms firmly on the ground. His survival instinct kicked in and he embraced it. With a loud, almost primal grunt erupting out of him, he pushed himself off the sand. The effort dislodged Naze, throwing him off balance. Edric rolled away and sprang to his feet.
In one fluid motion, Edric lunged back at Naze, wrapping his arms around the brute's waist. With a Wookiee-like effort, he lifted Naze off the ground, the crowd's roar crescending. Panic flashed in Naze's eyes as Edric heaved him toward the deadly ray shields.
The moment stretched into infinity as Naze's body arced through the air, colliding with the crackling energy barrier. Sparks flew, the ray shields lighting up with a fierce intensity as Naze convulsed, the electricity coursing through his body. With a final, pained gasp, he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Edric stood panting, his chest heaving as he surveyed the fallen opponent. He couldn't believe what he had done, and how much strength was in him. The crowd erupted in wild cheers, the noise washing over him like a wave. Victory was his, but the strange excitement he felt was tempered by the sight of his unconscious opponent.
Seconds stretched into what felt like hours as the noise of the crowd faded in Edric's ears. Naze finally moved, slowly regaining consciousness. Edric jogged over and squatted down beside him just as the announcer declared his victory and was already hyping up the next match.
"Are you alright?" Edric asked with genuine concern. He knew that in a fight, someone would inevitably get hurt, but he never intended to inflict this much damage. Naze grunted, rolling onto his stomach in a futile attempt to push himself up. Seeing his struggle, Edric grabbed him below the shoulders and hoisted him up. Naze let out a series of incomprehensible grunts and murmurs, his body trembling from the effort.
He escorted Naze outside the ring, where Zeek was already waiting with a medical droid by his side. The droid took over from Edric, assisting the fallen fighter, while Zeek could barely contain his excitement.
"That was amazing, my friend!" the Bith exclaimed as Edric approached, attempting an awkward hug that only reached around one side of Edric's broad frame. "You just made us a lot of credits," he added with a wide grin.
Edric smiled and shrugged. "Next time I might actually break a sweat," he said with a touch of false bravado. His eyes followed the droid escorting Naze away.
Watching the brute struggle, a knot tightened in Edric's stomach. He realized he needed to learn to control his strength, much like he had with the Force, to avoid causing serious harm in the future. Yet, despite the unease, he couldn't deny the exhilaration he felt during the fight—a sensation he was also eager to experience again.
Zeek talked incessantly all the way to the locker room, repeatedly marveling at Edric's throw and praising his performance in the fight. "That was incredible. If you can keep this up, we'll be rich in no time, my friend," he said, rubbing his palms as if already counting the credits. "Alright, get changed and I'll wait for you outside. I'll pick up our winnings on the way out."
As Zeek finally left, Edric let out a sigh of relief. He entered the locker room and quickly changed the dirty tunics to a fresh one and his robes. When he was leaving, he stole a glance at Naze, who was still groggy and out of it.
Hurrying to catch up with Zeek, Edric braced himself for the inevitable monologue from the Bith on their way back to The Rusty Blaster. He exited through the backdoor reserved for fighters and found Zeek waiting in the alley. Fortunately, there were no Trandoshans around this time, but it was raining heavily. Although they were technically underground, there was an artificial climate that formed occasional rainstorms.
"Finally," Zeek said, seeing Edric. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a number of credit chips, handing them over to the former Padawan. Edric pocketed them without counting, aware that Zeek was a shady figure likely skimming from his share. He knew it would take several more fights before he could even think about getting out of The Rusty Blaster's attic, so it didn't bother Edric that much.
"I'll take a walk if you don't mind, you go back to the Blaster," Edric said, pulling up his hood. Zeek's eyes narrowed, his bald head furrowing with concern. Edric noticed the hesitation and suspected the Bith was worried about making the long journey back alone. "Just need to get some air and clear my head," he added, hoping to reassure him.
"Alright," Zeek said reluctantly, giving up and starting down the alley. Edric watched him go, noting the Bith's quick, cautious glances around the street before he disappeared into the shadows.
Edric's robes quickly became soaked in the rain, but he welcomed the cold drops on his skin. It felt as though the rain was extinguishing the adrenaline-fueled fire from the fight. His eyes grew heavier, though he wasn't entirely exhausted, and his muscles finally began to relax. Sore spots hinted at the pain that would come the following morning.
Level 1991, like most of the Underworld, never slept. As he walked, he received curious stares from various species, while others didn't even glance his way, indifferent to yet another robed figure in the streets. The muffled bass of a nearby club pulsed through the air, accompanied by a long queue at its entrance. Distant sirens and occasional shouts echoed through the labyrinthine alleys.
Through all the other noise, a child's desperate cries nearby pierced through.
"No, I don't want to go, please!"
Edric quickened his pace. Rounding the next corner, he stopped and stepped back into the shadows. He watched as a Duros thug forcefully dragged a boy—only a few years younger than Edric—toward an airspeeder. The Duros handed a few credit chips to another Duros standing by. He reached out with the Force to sharpen his senses, focusing his eyes to read their lips and piece together their conversation.
"Pleasure doing business with you," said the one receiving the money. "Tell your boss we'll have more slaves his age soon if you still need workers," he added. The other Duros just grunted and turned, jumping into the airspeeder and taking off with his purchase.
Slaves? Edric thought, involuntarily clenching his fists. He knew the Underworld was rife with criminal gangs and organizations engaged in constant power struggles that led to robberies and even murder, but slavery was a different level of atrocity, worse than any petty crime he had witnessed so far.
As he took in the scene, his eyes caught a sign on the building where the remaining Duros stood in front of—an orphanage, of all places. The Jedi in him couldn't turn away from this. He had to help the orphans. He remembered his master's teachings before rushing into a fight. Take a moment to assess what's in front of you, he thought. But there wasn't much time.
The building stood three stories high with only a handful of windows. He spotted a couple that he could fit through, and there was some of the scaffolding around that looked sturdy enough to climb. Entering through the main entrance would be suicide, especially without his lightsaber, which he had left at the Blaster, so it seemed the best bet was to climb and sneak in.
He scanned the area for any guards or onlookers, but the street was fairly empty due to the rain. Moving into the alley beside the orphanage, he searched for a handhold to start his ascent. Ensuring no one was around to see him, Edric jumped, using the Force to propel him high enough to grasp the handle. He pulled himself up to a nearby window on the second floor, pausing for a moment to close his eyes and sense if anyone was nearby. Since the coast was clear, he waved his hand in front of the window to unlock it and silently made his way inside.
He straightened up and found himself in a dimly lit corridor. A flash of lightning from the storm outside briefly illuminated the hallway, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Edric moved cautiously toward the next corner, but a sudden warning from the Force made him pause.
Pressing himself against the wall, he held his breath as a Duros guard turned the corner. Before the alien could react to his presence, Edric swiftly applied a Jedi nerve pinch to the guard's neck, rendering him unconscious immediately. The Duros slumped to the floor, and Edric carefully lowered him to avoid making noise. The former Padawan realized his plan wasn't well-developed and now created more trouble for himself. Good job, Edric, he scolded himself in thought, but it strangely sounded like his master speaking. Acting on instinct wasn't always the best choice, and this was one of those times.
He peeked around the corner and noticed a nearby door. Tapping into the Force, he sensed no one inside. He decided it was as good a place as any to hide the unconscious Duros for now, so he threw the alien over his shoulder and carefully carried him to the room.
Edric entered an office, cluttered with a mix of high-tech and makeshift furnishings in typical fashion of the Underworld. A large, worn desk dominated the center of the room, its surface strewn with datapads, old-fashioned ledgers, and a flickering holo-projector. The walls were adorned with grimy posters, their edges curling from neglect.
A musty smell permeated the air, mingling with the faint odor of burnt circuitry. Edric carefully lowered the unconscious Duros onto a tattered couch pushed against the wall, its upholstery frayed and stained from years of use.
He quickly searched the Duros' equipment, finding a blaster pistol and a rod-like device designed for electrocuting people. He also found a comlink that might be useful listening in to the movement of the other Duros around. He took them all, adjusting the blaster's settings to stun. As he glanced around the room, his eyes fell on the surveillance monitors displaying grainy footage of various parts of the orphanage.
In the cellar, he saw cells with ray shields containing around two dozen children of various species. The sight made his stomach churn. He turned his attention to the desk, where documents and datapads lay haphazardly. The details of the operation were laid bare. The Duros gang was working for the Pyke Syndicate, using the orphanage as a front to abduct Clone Wars refugee children and sell them as slaves. Each child was implanted with a transmitter chip to prevent escape.
The flames of anger ignited within Edric, hot and fierce like a wildfire threatening to consume a forest. But as quickly as the rage rose, he let it dissipate, exhaling slowly, reminding himself of his training.
The orphanage, meant to be a haven, was instead like a marketplace, and the thought of those young lives being commodified fueled a fire he had to keep contained. His mission crystallized in that moment: he would shatter their chains and lead them to freedom.
He brought up the layout of the building at the holo-projector and memorized it as much as possible. Based on the datapads, he believed there could be five or six more thugs patrolling the building.
With a deep breath, Edric exited the office and locked it, the cold metal of the blaster pistol a reassuring weight in his hand. He moved through the corridors like a shadow, the muffled sounds of the outside storm a distant hum.
On the same floor, he encountered a Duros thug, his back turned. Edric raised the blaster and fired. The blue circular bolt hit its mark, and the Duros crumpled silently to the ground. The ex-Padawan continued to move downstairs, his steps swift and silent. Edric rounded the next corner and came face-to-face with two Duros thugs.
"Hey, who are you?" one asked, pulling his blaster to shoot. Edric, his reflexes honed by the Force, moved with lightning speed, dodging the attempt. In a fluid motion, he closed the distance and delivered an electroshock with the baton he took, gaining some time. Before the second Duros could react, Edric swiftly fired the blaster, stunning him. Without missing a beat, the boy turned the blaster on the first thug and fired again, dropping him to the ground. The comlink he took came to life as a fellow guard tried to check in on one of the fallen. He had to make short work of the rest.
After taking down two more guards on the same floor, Edric found himself standing at the top of the stairs leading down to the cellar. He suspected there might be one or two more guards below, assuming the datapads had accurate information. Making sure his boots barely made a sound, Edric slowly descended. As he neared the bottom, two blaster shots narrowly missed his legs. He leaped down the last few steps just in time. The two remaining Duros were behind cover, prepared for him.
"Who do you think you are?" one yelled as they opened fire. Edric reached out with the Force to anticipate the incoming bolts, but tracking two at once was overwhelming. A laser shot grazed his left thigh, causing him to drop to one knee. He fired two shots towards the Duros and rolled into a cover in the wall to reassess his chances. Blaster bolts kept coming, filling the air with the smell of burnt ozone. Behind the enemy lines, he could hear the frightened cries of the children.
Edric closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The external world faded, and he felt the waves of the Living Force around him, gently crashing against the beings throughout the building. Time seemed to slow to a halt, and he could see exactly where to aim his weapon to take down the Duros. Guided and sped by the Force, he extended his hand from the corner and, without looking, fired two stun bolts. Peeking from his cover after, he saw both guards lying on the ground, unconscious. He proceeded through the door behind them slightly limping and finally reached the room where the children were held.
The sight before him was heart-wrenching—two dozen children, aged six to twelve or so, huddled together, fear etched on their faces with tears welling up in some of their eyes. A young girl with bright eyes and a determined expression caught his attention.
"Who are you?" she whispered. Her eyes narrowed. Edric could sense she was suspicious about him.
"I'm here to help," Edric replied, keeping his hood up to conceal his face. While revealing his identity might have helped build trust, he needed to remain anonymous in the Underworld. Rumors about a Jedi on Level 1991 would spread like wildfire and complicate his life even more. The girl nodded.
"Then you need to deactivate our transmitter chips. There is a control room nearby on the top of the stairs," she explained.
"Stay here until I'm back. Even if the ray shields are deactivated," Edric instructed the kids, though mainly talking to the girl as she seemed to be their de-facto leader, then left for the control room.
Once there, Edric cautiously entered, but instead of an empty room with a handful of computers, he found another Duros, who looked older than the rest. One of his red eyes was missing and he had a long and deep scar running through that side of his face. The alien had his hand hovering over a large button.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" the Duros leader sneered. "Playing a hero, are we? Step any closer and I'll make those chips explode," the leader threatened, his finger twitching dangerously close to the console.
Edric's mind raced, searching for a way to neutralize the threat without endangering the children. "You don't have to do this," he said, his voice steady. "Let's find another way."
The Duros leader laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "There is no other way. We can get more brats easily, the war gives us more than enough merchandise. This is business."
Edric knew he had to act fast and subtly. Using the Force too overtly could raise suspicion or start gossip, even in the seldom-patrolled depths of the Underworld. Still, he couldn't see any other way. Reaching out with the Force, he tried to anticipate the leader's next move and made his decision.
Augmenting his speed, he dashed forward, closing the distance in the blink of an eye. He grabbed the leader's wrist, twisting it away from the button just as the Duros tried to press it. A struggle ensued, but Edric's strength quickly gave him the upper hand. He knocked the leader unconscious with a swift strike to the head, ensuring the threat was neutralized. He turned his attention to the control panel, quickly deactivating the transmitter chips. For good measure, he set the blaster back to lethal and fired several rounds into the control panel, destroying it completely with sparks flying. It was over.
After ensuring opening the ray shields, Edric moved the unconscious Duros gang members down to the cellar where the kids were kept before. Together they locked them into the same cells.
He turned to the frightened children, offering a reassuring smile. "Stay here a bit longer. Help is on the way," he said. "I'll be near to make sure they get here," he added and decided to slip outside. While on his way, he quickly composed an encrypted priority message to Lokk, the clone trooper he had met on Tarnos. He asked him for immediate help, signing it simply as "Your friend from Tarnos" to maintain his anonymity. Outside, he remained in the shadows of an alley overlooking the orphanage building.
When he finally heard the distant rumble of vehicles, Edric looked on as an LAAT descended with a handful of clone troopers and an officer, watching from a discreet distance to ensure the rescue went smoothly. He let himself breathe as he saw the children being safely escorted out, a small smile touching his lips before he melted back into the anonymity of the Underworld and ran off to The Rusty Blaster.