INTERIOR: VERSAI TECH – TRAINING ROOM

    Moving from the carnage in The Killian Citadel, back within the newly constructed halls of VT, we enter a vast room resembling a gym. Here in this local, there are several exercise machines and various droids as well as a giant wrestling type ring and in the very corner where our attention is most focused a figure hurls powerful left and rights into a swaying punching bag, hung from the ceiling. Along the side of the swaying, rugged sand filled cylinder is a digital display screen tracking the force and momentum put into each punch and the estimated damage factor an opponent would attain.

Lance Jade, the prominent President of VT had shed his uniform for a simple set of VT training shorts, a gray tank top, tapped wrists, and a pair of black fighting gloves; the kind made of rubber with padding along the knuckles and top wrist. Lance’s mind right now flashes with memories of the last couple days. Some are that of the grisly discovery of Mitch’s remains in the elevator, some are of Tula being taken by Jenner from behind, that needle he can almost feel plunged into his own neck and most recent, each shard of glass that tore into the back of Ray. Lance found the best way to handle his frustration was on a non-living target, slamming his fists into the swaying punching bag with rights, lefts, jabs, and powerful uppercuts. The intensity was so strong in fact that each time he broke the normal gauge’s limits, a deafening beep shriek from the display unit. Closely monitoring him was a standard protocol droid jotting down his scores.

At present, Lance didn’t care about breaking any records. He dwelled upon his mission, the last task handed down to him from Val before his disappearance. Lance had successfully managed to solve the first part of the order…find The Mole, though the second order was more difficult…kill him. Lance was torn between what was “justice” and what was proper. On one hand he had several chances to kill Jenner, but his duty held him back. He knew that if he killed Jenner right now, the stubborn and ignorant “Council” of VT would strip him of his job for taking the law into his own hands.

Since Val’s order to him was not so much “official” in the Council’s eyes, for all they knew as they sat behind their desks sipping drinks and arguing over pointless issues, Jenner could run the halls of VT butchering people forever till he found their location and killed them as well. Lance smirked at that thought sending another series of rights and lefts into the punching bag, imagining Jenner’s face in place of its dull red appearance. “Yes”, Lance thought…then they would listen.

As high strung techno like music poured into the training room from a stereo device, Michael Angilis entered through the doors about ten meters from Lance. Michael was doing all he could from his own security ends to track down Jenner, study his dossier and devise a plan to bring him down without taking his life. He had decided that the best way to take out Jenner would be to first make him human…for this task he sent out a order for a three dozen ysalamiri cages, and placed them in various hanger bay locations. He knew that Jenner could not escape VT without having to go through one of the hanger bays to get a ship. The only drawback to this plan was that first, he didn’t know which Jenner would use and second in order to protect the security team who needed their force abilities, Michael had a special remote on his belt, with three dozen separate switches, used to open any of the cages at his command.

When Lance found Jenner or vice-versa, they would release the ysalamiri from the cages and bring his godlike power to an abrupt end. However for the moment, Michael grew more concerned over Lance’s decision to isolate himself from his friends and from certain duties. Currently he could do so, since the trade negotiations for new parts went through with ease and VT was showing a considerable profit. Michael knew though from his time training in an Imperial Ops camp used to train the next batch of highly efficient covert ops teams that easily rivaled a hundred storm troopers, that Lance was not just hitting this bag to get out his anger, he was preparing himself for war.

Michael closes the space between him and Lance, then stands to his superior’s left side, watching the numbers on the display jump and listening to the machine screech each time Lance exceeded the normal levels of power.

MICHAEL – I’ve taken measures to prepare for Jenner when he appears again Lance. I’ve had ysalamiri placed around different hanger bays to ensure he can’t pull more lightning out of his rear.

Lance glances to Michael nodding and then slams his fist hard into the bag once again. His body then spins into a roundhouse, kicking over the stereo unit blaring the techno music, sending the device crashing to the floor as the music sputters out into silence.

MICHAEL – (smirks) Having a bad day Sir?

LANCE – (growls, punching the bag) I’m tired Michael, I’m tired of people getting hurt because of DAMN PROCEDURE…When will this blasted council realize someone like Jenner can’t be taken into custody.

MICHAEL – (nods) Endor knows, I agree with you Lance but my hands are tied by their nonsense and I can’t do anything about it.

Lance growls softly, then slams another barrage into the punching bag, shooting his gaze to the monitor of the stats keeper machine, he uses the force to turn if off with a flick of his wrist.

LANCE – I HATE THAT THING! BUZZING ANNOYS THE HELL OUT OF ME!

MICHAEL – (snickers) Most do Lance…what do you intend to do about Jenner?

LANCE – (low reply) There’s only one thing I can do now that’s morally “right” Michael. I can no longer allow any more innocent people like Ray or Tula, or Mitch, or Marc to be caught in this crossfire between that psychopathic killer and myself…

Michael shifts his gaze to the floor for a moment and then waits for Lance to continue. Surprisingly however, Lance has now decided to take off his fighting gloves and peel off the black wrist tape, till his hands are exposed. Sweat pours down Lance’s forehead and along his shoulders as he breaths heavily from his workout, the punching bag displaying several dents in its structure from hours of torment. Taking a deep, cleansing breath Lance runs his fingers through his hair, placing both along his scalp, arching his back as it cracks with a pop.

MICHAEL – All done Sir?

Lance doesn’t say anything back to Michael; instead he picks up a white towel with the VT logo on it in black and paces towards the shower. Michael waits patiently as time passes until Lance re-emerges with his Presidential uniform back on, but in Lance’s eyes he no longer displays the refined gaze of patience…only determination as Michael can discern that his superior has something on his mind.

MICHAEL – (raises a brow) Lance? What is it man? Off the record what’s on your mind?

Lance arches his back again, and crosses his arms along his chest, standing to the side with his head down turned in thought. Slowly he cranes his blue eyes back towards Michael and speaks to him.

LANCE – If this position is going to get innocent people killed Michael, I can’t accept it anymore. I can’t have the limitations that come with all this so-called “power”. I’m thinking of insurrection Michael.

MICHAEL – Insurrection, against who? The Council?

LANCE – (nods slowly) I can’t be President and stop Jenner Michael, I can’t stand behind a battalion of guards and watch them get slaughtered. I don’t care about The Council’s decision. I know what Jenner wants. He wants ME.

MICHAEL – What are you suggesting Lance? What do you want me to do?

Lance transfixes his gaze on a set of exercise machines, as images plague his thoughts with torment. He can see Tula screaming out as lighting riddles her body with agonizing pain from Jenner’s treachery. His soul worries for Val, who has not spoken to him for at least a month. Things didn’t add up either, he couldn’t figure out how Marc Jade could have been attacked on the eighth floor seconds before he and Ray chased him down the hallway on the tenth…something didn’t make sense with the two floor difference.

Suddenly Lance’s eyes flashed open with a thought…one Michael could sense as Lance began to pace his way swiftly towards the double doors exiting the room.

MICHAEL – (giving chase) Lance? What are you planning to do? What can I do to help?

LANCE – (low toned) I don’t care anymore about rank Michael, I’m going to find him and I’m going to end this now.

MICHAEL – But you can’t! You’ll be stripped of your rank! What about your duty?

Lance screeches to a halt, then spins around to glare, eye to eye in Michael’s eyes.

LANCE – RANK? WHAT ABOUT RANK MICHAEL! RANKS WON’T BRING BACK THE BRAVE MEN JENNER HAS BUTCHERED! RANK WON’T END THIS PATH OF DESTRUCTION WE’VE BEEN FORCED TO ENDURE!

Michael takes a deep breath, adjusting his suit before returning his gaze to Lance, letting his superior calm down a moment…even Michael agrees that the Council’s wishes are impossible, they think Jenner is some normal disgruntle employee in need of time in the brig, they couldn’t understand anything about Quillion’s plot beyond the attack on the VT towers. Lance understood Jenner well now, he had seen into his thoughts and knew how he worked, how he fought…what his flaws were. Michael was now torn between doing his duty of stopping Lance for his own “presidential” good standings, or letting him go…or allow himself to risk his position by joining Lance’s crusade.

MICHAEL – You’re right Lance…forget rank. I have Imperial weapons training, I can snipe a person with a standard blaster from 200 yards. What do you need me to do?

LANCE – (smiles softly) No Michael, I have to do this myself…I’m going to give Jenner his wish and fulfill his prophecy, I’m going to call his trump card.

MICHAEL – Hey Lance, I can shoot…really! You won’t even need to bother with Jenner’s force abilities, all I do is hit this button right here on my belt and its lights out for his force power. We can take him together!

Lance glances down to the floor a moment then places his hand on Michael’s shoulder in support.

LANCE – You want to help me? You could lose your job for it.

MICHAEL – Friendship is more important to me then protocol “Sir”. Let’s go get him!

LANCE – (shakes his head) No…I’ve been in this conversation before. If there is one thing I’ve learned from all this Michael its that I have to go up against him on my own, the cost of injury to me is better then the loss of more lives. I need you to do me a favor though.

MICHAEL – Name it.

LANCE – Let’s go to the armory on the 5th floor, we’ll talk more there…follow me.

Michael’s eyes light up with delight, all his life he’s wanted to be part of the action. Even with his former training in the Imperial Ops camp he was placed on the sideline or sent on scouting duties. This time however he didn’t mind because he wasn’t bringing down rebel spies or fetching bounties, or even freeing hostages. He was now Lance’s right hand man, and had a role in the biggest battle to come in VT’s corporate history…bringing down a Sith Master. With eager anticipation, Michael paced out the dual doors of the training room by Lance’s side and headed to the turbolift.

MICHAEL – (waiting for the lift) What you planning on doing? Do I get to do much?

LANCE – (grins) Oh you’re going to play a large roll in this Michael, you’re going to be my wingman. If I don’t get fired for this and all goes well, expect a hefty bonus and a medal of honor in your future. More then that though...take pride in knowing you’re on my “top notch” friendship list.

MICHAEL – (smiles) From the time I first met you Lance, that’s all I really wanted…What more luck could a guy have then join the “friendship list” of the two most notorious fighters in the galaxy? Lance Jade and Valaryc Versai.

LANCE – (nods) Save the celebration till after the game is won…we still have a great deal of work ahead of us.

MICHAEL – Understood.
 

INTERIOR THE KILLIAN THRONE ROOM – UPPER DAIS

As the lift arrives to its destination, Lance and Michael step into it and head down to the fifth floor armory to put into action a plan to bring Jenner’s orders to a sudden halt. Yet returning back within the Throne Room of the Killian Citadel we can see that Terra and Uncle Cire are in heated combat once more. Terra staggers on her injured leg and now Cire has drawn his Sith Sword, slamming the blade into Terra’s twin javelins. Though they are made of mandal steel, in three impacts from Cire’s razor sharp Sith Sword, the shafts sever, falling to the ground with two TINKS.

Terra reaches back inside her quiver drawing another fresh set of javelins, hurling her body best she can out of the brutal downward slashes of Cire’s Form K advances. Each missed strike sends a hail of shimmering metallic sparks from the surface of Cire’s dais platform as his blade gashes into the shiny black floor.

CIRE – Awwww what’s the matter Uncle break his niece’s toys? GO BACK TO PLAYING WITH YOUR DOLLS TERRA, I’M TOO MUCH FOR YOU!

Terra swiftly waits for Cire to miss with another swing, causing his two handed grip to arch his body towards the floor with brute strength. Timing it perfectly, Terra sends her good leg up into Cire’s jaw in a forward, rising axe kick. Cire is hurled back hard by the impact as his entire body careens back into the wall behind him. As Terra sees her kick make its mark, she uses her good foot, outstretching it up holding pressing her opponent into a locked position, while she brings her javalin around to stab through his chest. However before Terra can reach it, Cire kicks into her injured right leg, causing Terra to recoil her foot back in pain, but as she does so, watching Cire swiftly rush towards her, she hurls her two javelins with breakneck speed towards him.

CIRE – GAH!

Cire sees the two points of metal racing towards him, hurling his body completely to the side they wiz right past his ear, over his left shoulder and down to the darkness of the lower level where Val and Gen still exchange countered blows with their lightsabers having recovered from their dizzy states though each powerful or graceful swing is countered by another equally effective parry.

CIRE – (sees the direction of the javelins) WHAT! NOOOOOOOOOO!!!! GET OUT OF THE WAY CORRIE! YOU IDIOT!

As Cire screams out, the twin javelins hurl down towards the path leading to Corrie standing against the same control panel used to operate the deadly “X” torture chair. With the slave collar reducing her free through to nothing but a mindless zombie she doesn’t even react to the two shafts of metal streaking towards her location. Corrie’s eyes are narrowed to slits and glazed over, awaiting her command from her programmed master Lord Quillion. Since she does not see him in sight, and the man without the mask who orders her to move is not her “:Lord Quillion” she recognizes with the shiny silver and red tattooed helmet on she doesn’t listen to his orders.

It seems as if time stands still between all the participants in the room as the javelins honed to a deadly edge tear through the control panel to the “X” chair like a hot knife through butter. Having its power settings disturbed the control panel Corrie stand beside explodes in a huge display of luminous sparks and flying debris, sending electronic fires and smoke hurling up in a chain reaction of destruction. In unison Corrie’s body is leveled with waves of deep blue electric bolts, sending her body falling to the ground, instantly plunged into her into unconsciousness.

The deadly bolts of energy course through her moving up and to seek out any form of conduction they can manage, locking on to the matrix of the slave collar and riddling through the device with feral intensity. This shorts out its electrical components as the metallic ring sizzles and begins to exude a thin line of spiraling smoke.

As Cire watches his captured prey fall and his beautiful machine’s control panels erupt into flames, his blood seethes with anger, grabbing Terra’s fist as she tries to capitalize on his distraction. With new found vigor, Cire glares sadistically into Terra’s eyes, grabbing her by the throat, spinning around in a quarter circle hurling her back first into one of the machine panels by his throne, the surface of the armor shielding the units is unforgiving as Terra slams into it, bruising her skin under her outfit.

CIRE – YOU ARE MORE TROUBLE THEN YOUR WORTH!

Terra bides her time, then unleashes a sudden barrage of kicks and punches once more, driving Cire back towards the wall but this time Cire takes the end of his Sith Sword and slams the hilt square under Terra’s jaw, then right smack in the middle of her forehead. Her cranium absorbing the crack of steel, causes her to lose focus and teeter as Cire forces her back towards the stairs leading to his dais.

TERRA – (confused) I’m going to…going to…kill you…Uncle.

Cire grins broadly, aligning his Sith Sword along the floor, freeing one hand as he curls his fingers into a tight fist. Spinning back on his heel, he uses his momentum along with force enhanced speed and strength to backhand Terra clear off the top of the dais platform towards the floor below.

CIRE – DIDN’T YOU KNOW YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO RESPECT YOUR ELDERS!

Terra’s body hurls over 45 feet down in the air, but regaining her focus seeing the danger whipping along her as she realizes she’s in the pull of the rooms artificial gravity with nothing to stand on, she uses her own force control to calm herself, and enhance her speed to tuck into a ball, drawing one of her last remaining javelins from her quiver, spinning back out of the ball so she faces towards Cire high above in desperation tossing her sliver of silver towards him, as her feet collide to the floor. She can see out of the corner of her eye to the right, Gen and Val have their lightsaber blades locked in a “X” each struggling to gain control.

As Cire gets ready to jump off the top of the dais platform, he catches Terra’s javelin before it can pierce right in his left thigh, taking the metal in his hand, Cire crushes the shaft with his curled fist, making the metal bend out of alignment, squeezing the shaft till the mandal steel conforms around the contour of his fingers.

CIRE –  (tosses the mangled javelin to the floor) You’ve much to learn about experience in combat young one…Allow me to demonstrate.

Terra keeps her eyes trained on Cire’s movements as she moves to pick up the twisted metal shaft of her weapon, realizing how much power Cire must truly possess was greater then she had anticipated to crush such a high density material with just his strength…either that or his hand was a prosthetic.

Before Terra can draw a conclusion, she glances up to see Cire begin to take a running lead off his dais, placing his blade held in both hands downward into a jabbing stab, his robe flowing like fire along his body as his hair whips upward from his decent like a den of snakes. Its not this that unsettles her its two other factors…the first is his eyes, cold and wide, pupils almost rolled in the back of his head, shimmering with a teal blue, full of pure rage and hatred…the other is that she can’t seem to move away from her position as he closes in…she then realized the problem…below her feet was a mantrap.

As Cire leaped downward to slice clear into her body with enough speed to shear through her and the floor she stood on, she desperately tried to move but she couldn’t fight the intense gravity of the same machine used to hold Val still while the scarab droids drove their needles into his skin, injecting him with poison.

Terra wondered how in Vader’s name Cire could have known that she would land in this EXACT spot ahead of time unless the reason he could possibly know…could have had the device planted here for this EXACT moment was more sadistic then she could imagine…

He had LET her hit him all this time. She never had the advantage! Even the kicks square in his groin, the whipping uppercuts, the stumbling, and gasping for breath was a show!

All she did was waste her ammunition, strength, and power!

She fell right into Cire’s hands…he had preached countless times about his opponent’s underestimating his power and his skill, and she had fell for the same setup.

She was trapped…
 

INTERIOR THE KILLIAN THRONE ROOM – LOWER LEVEL (RIGHT SIDE)

(From now on the fights between Cire/Terra and Val/Gen take place on the same level and different sides unless indicated  see Quillion’s Throne Room Layout for reference)

Val’s blade locked with Gen’s purple fury as he gazed towards her wrists, avoiding her eyes feeling the pull on his senses with even a sideward glance to her orbs. Even if this wasn’t Gen Cire had done his homework well, from now Val had decided to accept the fact Gen left him no choice but to fight her back, even if it was to save her and yet those images that followed his lip lock on her showed only skewed version of events from his past as well as revelation into things he was not present to see, such a her cloning process.

Val you see had once considered cloning Gen and bringing her back to his side but he had chosen to wager against it, even with VT had informed him of their 100% success rate of growing a clone and had devised a way of opening Gen’s grave up on the Forest Moon of Endor to retrieve her DNA. Val knew deep down that even if he did allow her to come back in this form, it would look like her, sound like her, but it would never have the same distinction that gave every human being a right to be unique.

It was for this reason Val had never cloned Gen, but Cire apparently had no such limitations or common sense. Now he had done the impossible, somehow he had brought Gen back from the grave without desecrating her grave…and trained her, raised her, and even married her! My how the future had taken a wicked shape now in Val’s psyche.

Just five years and 7 months ago he was training hard in his Mansion letting VT run itself with the leaders if had elected to carry on in his absence, going as far as to elect The Council to oversee that those in power could not abuse the privilege. Little did the CEO know that his “Council” lacked the moral convictions some of his leaders contained, such as Lance Jade. He didn’t know that his orders to Lance to take out The Mole were overridden in his absence. These thoughts dwindled though compared to his focus to both survive and hopefully reform this “clone Gen” into her original self.

Thought Val realized that the clone could never be the original body of Gen, he didn’t know yet if maybe it did contain her soul…he didn’t know how far into the Sith Arts Cire has delved. It was possible to reunite a soul with a clone body if done in certain matters and with a high concentration of force energy, the drawback was that to do so, the one who brought back the soul would be pushed to the brink of death in exhaustion for the power needed to resurrect the dead. Palpatine of course had no such trouble, he easily vanquished his body to leap into another but this was a different circumstance for this wasn’t the same essence leaping into a fresh vessel it was taking another/s soul not your own, and placing it in a new frame.

If Cire had managed to somehow find Gen’s soul and place it into this assassin’s frame locked with his shimmering ice-blue blade, then Val new there was a slim chance he might be able to spark some sort of deep down memory Cire had used the dark side to blind Gen to Val’s relationship with her in her former life. This was the only thing stopping Val from unleashing his full lightsaber duelist potential on the clone assailant.

Returning to the present seconds before Terra realizes that she is trapped by the device at her feet, Val sends a powerful uppercut strike, vertically up into Gen’s blade as he sidesteps away, parrying his blade under hers to unlock their “X” formation. This strike is enough to gain some distance between the two as Gen struggles to maintain her hold on her purple edge lunging skyward.

Val’s eyes focus on Terra and Cire leaping from the top of the dais, nothing the position of Cire’s deadly Sith Sword, having tasted its vengeance through his thigh in his previous fight. Gen growls loudly and charges into Val with her saber flaring, but Val gingerly sidesteps away and lets her rush past him, keeping his focus on Terra, who from his position looks handedly close to Crymson in her outfit.

Gen slides her feet forward and prevents her momentum from sending her crashing into the wall, then closes her eyes devising a new strategy to defeat her prey. Like the spider to the fly Gen realizes that Val’s love is his weakness, she would use that to her advantage and play off this handicap. It was clearly obvious that her saber skills were no match for Val if he were to finally have enough and release his full skill upon her, in order for Gen to please her husband and turn the tides back she needed to knock Val off balance again emotionally as well as physically and crush his stability.

Val pays little attention to Gen for the moment, transfixed on Terra’s vulnerable position…realizing that Cire is willing to slaughter his own Niece in cold blood, and Terra’s decision to defy The Killian and take on its leader in feral rebellion, Val takes a deep breath and calls upon the force to aid him, free of Gen’s distraction for the moment. In Val’s eyes the images of countless events where he has stepped in saving lives plays through his mental theater, faces he didn’t recognize but souls he’s liberated from an abrupt death seem to mirror themselves over Terra struggling to free herself from the man-trap at her feet.

VAL – (glaring to Cire in the air) AS YOU ONCE TOLD ME CIRE! OH NO! THEY’LL BE NONE OF THAT!

Flicking his fingers forward, Val uses the force to use electronic manipulation on the man trap holding Terra. Though he knows that his battles with Terra are not over for taking her mother’s life, he doesn’t allow Cire to butcher another member of his family by his hand or his orders. The power of Val’s control shatters the electronic mainframe of the trap, instantly ending its gravitational hold on Terra’s feet.
 

INTERIOR THE KILLIAN THRONE ROOM – LOWER LEVEL (LEFT SIDE)

In a flurry of movement, Terra glances to Val in confusion then takes advantage of her freedom, hurling her body into a sideward roll, spinning away from Cire as his Sith Sword finds its destination, much to his surprise shearing through the man trap device and into the floor to the base of his sword’s base. With the triangular die cuts at the beginning section of Cire’s blade he finds that given the force of his decent and the hair splitting sharpness of his weapon, Cire’s hands struggle to draw the blade out of the floor, as the black surface cracks from his impact, and causes Cire’s intentions of drawing the blade free to slow due to pieces of floor and metal lodging itself along the cuts in his blade’s design, forcing Cire to evoke the power of his dark side strength to retch it free from the twisted, creaking metal seeing the task as difficult as trying to remove Excalibur from the stone .

CIRE – (struggling) CURSE YOU VERSAI! MIND OUR OWN BUSINESS! I’M TRYING TO TEACH MY NIECE A LESSON! FAMILY ONLY YOU KNOW!

Cire screams out in frustration, hurling his fingers towards Val emitting a shower of ice blue “shard” lighting. Val knows this evil power well and how it can deal even more damage then traditional Sith Lighting since when it impacts its like pieces of glass that can tear into your skin instead of just frying the surface. Seeing the barrage, Val quickly leaps out of the way, getting a great deal of distance, able to evade the bulk of the attack, catching one stray bolt along his lower leg as the shard lacerates across the front of it.
 

INTERIOR THE KILLIAN THRONE ROOM – LOWER LEVEL (RIGHT SIDE)

Val doesn’t have much time to recover as Gen once again goes on the assault, dashing towards him with her saber swinging wildly, giving him seconds to re-ignite his lightsaber and counter with a series of blinding lights as their blades interweave.

Gaining his focus back, Val slides his fingers along his saber hilt with Form IV power as well as his Form “V” precision of 180 twirls and parries. Gen is driven backward by the commanding approach, spinning around to the side to score a few kicks to Val’s back and behind his thighs, but unable to take much advantage avoiding Val’s overhand saber strikes.

Gen suddenly pushes herself away from Val’s saber, but she isn’t fast enough as Val sends her saber up again, delivering another searing slash across her multi-singed midsection. With intense concentration and controlled aggression, Val spins around on one boot as she lies stunned and whips his shimmering blue edge across the back of her calves, leaving another scorching set of red lines along her skin. It was clearly obvious that Val had meant what he said about being tired of getting beat up, he had taken the offense now though each mark he landed on Gen’s rapidly healing body was only meant to injure and incapacitate his opponent…not deliver a fatal blow.

Val wanted her very much alive but he also wanted her to know just how much pain one can also live through. Anger filled his heart and soul….pain, terrible emotional pain…he hated Cire for putting him in this position to make a choice to systematically take apart the one thing in life he’s always wanted…love held him back from finishing the deed and going after Cire next for all the suffering and all the lives he’s taken from Val, as well as finding a way to eliminate Cire’s Mother from her ghostly existence…Val knew there had to be some way of destroying a Sith spirit and he knew in time he would find it and end Vachon’s curse once and for all.

To his surprise, as Gen dropped to the floor with another two hit combination of his blade across her back and behind her thighs, three inches higher from the last marks, Gen extinguished her lightsaber and grips her head in conflict.

GEN – (screaming) I CAN’T DO IT HUSBAND! I CAN’T KILL HIM FOR YOU! THERE IS SOMETHING INSIDE THAT’S STOPPING ME!

Val raises an eyebrow for a moment, ceasing his aggressive advances, taking a deep breath. His eyes stare to his lightsaber, then to his closed fist staring in disbelief at what he’s allowed himself to do to his soul desire…He had taken her down with his energetic fury because he had accepted that he couldn’t have her back. But now it appeared for the moment that that decision needed to be revised. Gen was in conflict with her thoughts…perhaps her feelings.

GEN – (grabbing her head) NO! THIS ISN’T RIGHT! YOU’RE WRONG! I CANNOT SLAY VALARYC VERSAI! DO NOT ASK THIS OF ME! I CANNOT!

Val stands there in stunned suspense watching Gen’s movements…he wonders if its some kind of trick since it seems a little too convenient for her to “come to her senses” when she was clearly losing her battle and yet what if she was telling the truth? Would a wife so easily rebel against her husband? She had turned off her weapon in submission, and added to that she placed herself in a very vulnerable position. Even the best assassins couldn’t allow themselves to take such a risk.

VAL – (blinks) Gen…is that you?

GEN – (growls) I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE! I CAN’T LISTEN TO YOU CIRE! WHAT YOU SAY DOESN’T MATCH THESE FLASHBACKS TRYING TO BREAK THROUGH!

Cire glares towards Gen as he finds himself back on the receiving end of Terra’s blazing combination assaults, something he didn’t plan for as he listens to Gen speaking out, reading her thoughts of conflict scowling at them, while dodging Terra’s kicks and punches, losing ground as he moves backward towards one of the support columns along the left side of the Throne Room.

CIRE – DON’T YOU DARE GEN! DON’T YOU EVEN THINK OF BETRAYING ME! YOU ARE MY WIFE AND YOU HAVE YOUR ORDERS! DESTROY VAL NOW!

GEN – (blinks) No….I can’t…I can’t do it! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME! WHAT HAVE YOU TRAINED ME TO DO! THIS ISN’T RIGHT! IT DOESN’T FEEL RIGHT!

CIRE – (screaming) WHAT YOU FEEL IS INSIGNIFICANT! YOU ARE MY WIFE NOW! YOU WILL DO AS I SAY! KILL HIM! DO IT OR I SWEAR I’LL KILL YOU AGAIN!

VAL – Fight him Gen! Come on! Come back to me…remember your feelings! Remember us! Break his hold on you! Cire has no loyalty, no compassion. Look he’d even butcher his own family!

Gen’s eyes crane over towards Cire sending a lucky backhand to Terra, whipping her around to unleash his own brutal advance of kicks and punches into her chest and face like a ravaged boxer. Something appears inside of Gen to snap as she looks down at the ring on her finger, then over towards Val, standing to watch her with widened eyes, saber still ignited along his left side, blade downward.

GEN – Eternal Love…fore…….forever….bound….to….you?

VAL – (nods)Yes Gen, you love me not him…Try to remember, try to focus your thoughts past his control he can’t control you and fight off his niece…he’s weaker now.

GEN – I…I…I do love you…

Val smiles a bit, flicking off his saber as he watches Gen stand to her feet, sliding her hands along her face in confusion, weeping tears of regret and confusion. Her locks of purple hair flow along her shoulders as she dips her head forward, holding her saber in one hand, dropping it to her side, turning her back towards Val in thought and silence remorse.

Val gingerly clips Obi Wan’s lightsaber to his belt and paces cautiously over to her, stopping within two feet. Cire glances from the left side of the room to Gen screaming to her.

CIRE – YOU WEAK, PATHETIC FOOL! EVEN IN DEATH YOU CLING TO THE PATHETIC LIMITATIONS OF LOVE! WHEN I’M THROUGH WITH MY NIECE, I’M SENDING YOUR SOUL BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM! YOU’VE OUTLIVED YOUR USEFULNESS TO ME!

Gen’s ears don’t even register Cire’s screaming threats as she stands still, gaining some of her composure to glance over her shoulder towards Val’s more relaxed and perplexed stance.

GEN – I can’t do this, kill me…send me back. I can’t live in this reality. I can’t live in a world where I have to hate you Val.

Val reflects on her words a moment, wagering logic from emotion knowing that even with her request he could never bring himself to lose her a second time, much less by his own hand. Biting his lip in thought, Val decides to extend his hand out towards Gen, transfixing his gaze directly into her eyes no longer fearing their seductive nature.

VAL – No! I won’t lose you again…it doesn’t have to be this way Gen. We can work out whatever he’s done to you…we can find a way. Do you want to try Gen? Do you want to give us another chance?

Gen glances to Val’s hand and turns around to face him, dropping her hands to the side slowly raising her left, so her fingers outstretch towards Val’s open palm as her tips touch, still not sure if she should embrace his hand or shrink back.

GEN – I can’t promise I won’t attack you again…I can’t fight this control myself.

VAL – (nods) It’s a risk I’m willing to take…promise not to use your weapon against me, that’s all I ask.

GEN – (takes Val’s hand) But there’s still something you have to know…something I have to tell you before I can promise that.

VAL – (steps closer) What is that?

Gen steps right up to Val and grasps his hand, drawing his body into her own, licking his lips as she gently kisses them…not enough of a deep kiss to trigger the ability to read her mind, but enough to ease his defensive posture into a more relaxed one.

VAL – (whispering) What is it Gen…what do I have to know.

Gen smiles softly, as she runs her fingers through her lover’s hair, drawing him ever closer so her breasts press into his chest, grinding her body a little seductively along his own. Her eyes lifting with an adoring glint.

GEN – Val…Honey…Come closer, hold me…draw me close.

Val doesn’t think to resist, pulling her into his grasp, wrapping the arm with his lightsaber around her back, holding the hilt horizontal so it blade cannot accidentally ignite and injure her.

GEN – (whispering in Val’s ear) The problem baby is that you see…

VAL – Yes?

GEN – My name isn’t Gen…

VAL – (eyes wide, staring to Gen) Huh?

As soon as Val has figured out what has going on, the figure he embraces…the manipulative witch plunges the reverse end with the sharp triangular points of Gen’s menacing lightsaber hilt into Val’s right shoulder, through flesh and muscle, as he cries out in shock and surprise. The assassin twists the blades inside Val’s shoulder slightly before tearing out the blood soaked ends, gripping Val’s throat, lifting him up off the ground with intense strength, whipping her body 360 degrees, before whispering to Val.

GEN – I’m not Gen Zeridian Val, my name is Agen T’Negun…and Cire is my TRUE LOVE!

VAL – (blinks, not even registering the pain) Agen what?

Agen hurls Val clear across the room, to the right side and back hard into the spot right next to Isis’s carbonite block. What she doesn’t realize is that as Val strikes the metal of the wall, his arm hits a one of the dual torches above and strikes a hidden switch, causing the section of the wall to rotate on its base, and in turn Val is swept behind it into a hidden room, as an identical version of the wall remerges and slides into place.

The assassin blows a kiss to Cire and winks to him. Cire in turn sends another crushing blow into Terra’s chest, this time pinning her against the support beam he was being pushed towards earlier, sending his wife a mental thought.

CIRE – (telepathic) That’s my girl…
 

INTERIOR: VERSAI TECH – FIFTH FLOOR ARMORY

The scene opens in the dimly light confines of one of the many VT armory depots. Each armory follows the same layout as the others so therefore this location mimics that of the armory where Marc Jade battled his opponent, from the air vents along the sides, to the various stacks of weapon’s crates and rifle racks. Inside the powerhouse, created specifically for the security personnel should there ever be a need for such ammunition in a corporation as vast as VT, Lance and Michael are already in the process of re-arming themselves. Lance has explained to Michael a small portion of his plan.

Basically the concept to take out Jenner, is that Lance will draw him out…something inside Lance tells him from Jenner’s words that he is just itching for a chance to duel him. Still yet the reasons were unclear, except that Lance gathered with the number of Board members leading down to two remaining, that would logically suggest that since Jenner has kidnapped Tula An, he would use her as a bargaining chip to draw Lance into his web and kill two birds with one stone.

Lance’s fingers gingerly slide along the smooth chromed barrel of custom DL-44’s he had personally made for him, placing them into his twin shoulder harnesses, adding power packs to his newly acquired utility belt. The weapons, much like the standard DL-44 had had the same design but advancements in shot firing capacity and a improved cooling system that allowed Lance to drain a power packs worth of shots in less than a minute, much like the speed of a e-web heavy blaster, but not as powerful. Along the barrel that extends from the shiny black muzzle, instead of silver and on through to the end of the gun’s length, a highly polished mirror chrome finish added a touch of class to the device. Lance had this placed on his weapons to show that he had as much “rugged” experience as a typical space pirate, but as much refined taste as a diplomat. Mentally, Lance was not sure exactly how his plan was going to commence, for he didn’t know exactly what Jenner had in mind or where he might choose to make his showdown with Lance take place. Still there was a very strong assumption that if Lance was last on his hit list, then that would mean Jenner would be in a hurry to leave…this is where Michael came in.

Michael under the orders of The Council had been instructed to find a way to counter Jenner’s capabilities and make him more or less “human”. As previously mentioned by him, he had set out to place various nutrient frames of ysalamiri inside disguised shipping crates. The crates were made of a special material that had the ability to block the effects of their force-voiding nature. At will, fastened along Michael’s belt was a master “release” unit, with three-dozen little red lights and switched underneath them. Each symbolized one of the frames. As soon as he pressed the button a signal would be sent, using high tech carrier waves to trigger a release on the cages. This would then expose the voiding properties of the ysalamiri to the people in the room. Much like catching a fly in a spider’s web, even the best force user could not avoid the effects of the ysalamiri’s skill to nullify their special abilities.

So then was the plan set. At Lance’s request, once Jenner was found and he explained where he wanted Lance to go, Michael would trigger the release until and voila…Jenner would be taken down. Lance had little intentions of letting Jenner live to see trial, yet even with his rage…the plan did allow a slight possibility for him to comply with The Council’s wishes. If things didn’t go well however, Lance would take his chances and finish his goals to completion.

LANCE – (picking up his DL-44) You know the plan Michael.

MICHAEL – (raises a brow) Yes I trigger the release of the cages when you reach your rendezvous point…let’s hope that he’s not setting as elaborate a trap as we are.

LANCE – I’d count on it Michael, if there is another thing I’ve picked up from Jenner’s exploits its that every move he makes has a purpose greater then that which is obvious. I can sense the darkness in this building…I know he’s in here somewhere…waiting, watching.

MICHAEL –  Put this in your ear.

Lance glances to Michael as he holds out his hand, flat. Michael places a small flesh colored device into his palm, which resembles a hear aid device but in this case as Michael slips in the matching device into his own ear, a concealed two-way radio with advanced micro circuitry that allows the user to both send and receive messages without a secondary mic or a button to push. Inside VT there were many, many advances in surveillance equipment, from bio scanners to fingerprint identifiers, to special cameras.

MICHAEL – You’ll need these puppies. They are two-way audio communication units so I can listen in on your progress. Be very careful though I took them from R&D, we only have two sets of these in existence. These are one set of the prototypes. Its likely Jenner isn’t aware of their existence. I figure now is a good time to test them.

LANCE – (slides a power pack in his DL-44)  No time like the present I always say.

Michael slides his fingers along the handle of a modified Imperial Biker Scout blaster. It was his own custom weapon, with an added site on it form his old Imperial sharp shooting days, the scope had a rather striking view range and the smooth black steel of the weapon easily outshined its predecessor’s standard units.

LANCE – (glances to Michael’s weapon) That’s an impressive piece there Michael. Where did you get it?

MICHAEL – (beams) I made it myself from some parts, when I trained in the Empire. See it has a broad ranged, heads up display placed right on the transparasteel glass in the scope that lets me know when a target is in range. It turns from blue to red. These lil triangular dots “paint” the target from as far as 200 feet.

LANCE – (nods) Wow, must take a great deal of skill to handle that kind of range.

MICHAEL – (nods slowly) Yeah, but I’m a pro at sharp shooting. Best in my class!

LANCE – (smirks) Oh really? Then how did you wind up in a lowly security position in VT instead of on the front lines of the Empire?

MICHAEL – (grins) Because I was too proud for my own good and the Empire doesn’t like individuality. Besides a guy has to grow up sometime and lose the cowboy act.

Lance snickers to Michael, drawing his twin DL-44s in a blink of an eye, with the safeties on pretending to take out another enemy in the form of a pile of shipping crates.

LANCE – Who says the “cowboy thing” is an act?

Lance spins his blasters around in 360 circles, first forward, then back into his holsters with his index finger extended along the trigger guard winking to Michael before drawing in a deep breath, losing the boyish charm to revert back to his solemn state, knowing what he tells Michael next, he won’t like.

Lance paces over to the wall and taps in a few buttons as a slender device, like a steel rod about six inches emerges from a communications unit, holding the device up like a microphone.

LANCE – (com) I know you’re out there Jenner…Answer me, I’m granting your request.

Suddenly Lance hears a slight tone and the voice of Jenner reply, echoing from one of the speaker unit in the wall. A cackling laughter which sends its sadistic tone throughout the entire building via a PA system. Even The Council hears the laughing, as Lance and Michael listen to the joker on the other end, crow in wicked delight.

JENNER – (speaker) I can see you Lance…can you see me?

LANCE – (com) No…but I can hear you.

JENNER – (speaker) Now do you believe me President Jade? When I told you, you would seek me out before the day was over. Yes I know all about your little promotion. In fact I wonder if that is why you’re no longer chasing me.

LANCE – (growls) I have my reasons…

JENNER – Ah of course! Duty…what was it your friend Val used to preach? A phrase etched into his precious locket by his father… I read his file…quite tragic but then again I have also read yours.

Lance’s fist curls into a ball as he listens to Jenner ranting, in which the entire building can hear the exchange. The Council listens intently to the conversation, hanging on its every word and deciphering if Lance is complying with their order or chooses to defy it. As President Lance isn’t allowed to place himself into harms way anymore. He knows this, yet he doesn’t care. Michael was complying with The Council’s wishes but the moment Lance stepped into the room against Jenner by himself…he would be defying them.

JENNER – Lance? You still there?

LANCE – (takes a deep breath) Yes…

JENNER – And let me guess…who is in the room with you I wonder. Michael Angilis I presume…no need to be shy. Say hello.

Michael glances to Lance for a moment then reluctantly speaks into the microphone.

MICHAEL – Umm…hello.

JENNER – You see Lance this is what being a villain is all about! Having everyone hanging on your every word! Why I bet that preciously guarded council of yours is eagerly wondering…if you will comply with their demands.

LANCE – (growls) I’ll do what I must to take you in Jenner.

JENNER – (smirks) Come now Lance! I can invade your mind as easily as I’ve invaded this control room here on the 12th floor…room MA16 I believe. You might want to send up some new guards though, I seem to have broken your soldiers.

LANCE – (calm) I know what you want Jenner, I’ve figured out your game.

JENNER – Oh really! Took you long enough ,why with Tula An’s clues an all I’m surprised you didn’t decipher it sooner, your precious board members might still be alive.

Lance shrinks back in a fit of rage as he hears Jenner’s mocking tones ring in his ears, goading him to scream back in anger...to set him off. Lance knows what Jenner wants though, he allows him to talk as he types in a few keys on the computer and sends them to Jenner’s screen reading :

IS TULA ALIVE?

JENNER – (reading the screen) Speaking of members…I hear Marc Jade won’t be making it to the next board meeting! HAHAHA…

Lance quirks his brow for a moment, trying to keep his thoughts clear, making sure that Jenner cannot detect the simple overlooked matter that Jenner in all his gloating was sloppy in his attack on Marc. Lance knew full well that Marc might be the key to finding out more about Jenner’s fighting abilities, having survived them.

JENNER – (catching Lance’s question) You want to know if Tula is alive hmm? Listen for yourself…

Jenner on his end in the communications room appears to grab Tula and force her to the microphone as she cries out desperately to him on the other line.

TULA – (mic) LANCE HELP ME! HE’S GOT A NEEDLE AGAIN! I CAN’T ESCAPE HELP ME LANCE! HELP!!!!!!

Tula’s voice abruptly starts to fade away into silence as Lance quivers on the other line, slamming his fist into the consul of the device in the wall, waiting to hear Jenner continue.

JENNER – I’ve just injected your girlfriend with deadly poison. I’m afraid it is quite fatal, but don’t fret lil hero, you have about two hours before it reaches its final stage.

LANCE – YOU BEAST! WHY DO YOU INSIST ON PICKING ON THOSE WEAKER THEN YOU!

JENNER – (laughs) To get a rise out of emotional people like you.

Michael lays a hand on Lance’s shoulder knowing that Tula is a vital weapon to use against him, having heard Lance speak to him daily about her recovery process and things he’s learned about her, about the tragedy the poor girl has sustained, sympathizing with his pain.

MICHAEL – (whispers to Lance) Don’t let him get to you…he’s probably lying.

JENNER – No Michael I assure you, I haven’t altered the truth for one moment in this conversation.

MICHAEL – (gasps) How did he?

JENNER – Know your thoughts Michael? Oh I can use the force and read your mind, didn’t you know that? Didn’t teach you that at the academy did they?

LANCE – (backs Michael away) Alright Jenner enough of this…if you poisoned her, we’re wasting time.

JENNER – Time is the fire in which we burn Lance. Are you burning with anger right now? Ummm….yes I can taste the rage, the pain….the vengeance. What was that saying in Versai’s locket Lance…tell me. You being such close friends would know it well.

LANCE – Before victory comes humility, before duty comes family.

JENNER – (beams) OH YES! THAT’S IT! Hmmm….I wonder though if that could be altered to fit your description. Something along the lines of “Before conflict comes choice, before duty comes emotion.”

LANCE – Perhaps…

JENNER – You see I’ve allowed you to know where to find me because I’m banking on the fact you will choose conflict…you will choose your emotion over your duty. Read your screen contender.

Jenner types in a few letters into the display monitor. He does this because he wants only Lance to know what he’s telling him, letting those who listen to their exchange on the PA system remain in the dark. This of course includes all of the security staff, force users, and The Council. Jenner knows the moment Lance makes his choice, The Council would surely try to stop him and this would waste valuable playtime with the illustrious Lance Jade. Jenner had devised a plan of his own, and though he claimed he could listen in on Lance and Michael he was bluffing to set them off kilter. He didn’t yet know about the ysalamiri, but he did know Michael would see whatever he typed into he monitor.

Lance glances to the monitor and sees a set of instructions this is what it reads:

PRESIDENT JADE

HANGER BAY J-1198

COME ALONE, YOU MAY NOT USE ANYTHING BEYOND MELEE OR BLASTERS.
MAKE NO ATTEMPT TO COMMUNICATE WITH YOUR FRIENDS WILL BE MET WITH CONSEQUENCE…A VERY BEAUTIFUL GIRL SHIPPING IN AN EQUALLY BEAUTIFUL PINE BOX.

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

YES OR NO

-END-

Lance slowly lets his eyes roam over the letters, trying to make his choice that Jenner has forced him to make between upholding his duty or carrying out his Insurrection…as the panicked screams of Tula echo in his ears, caused by Jenner’s mind games, Lance types his reply which reads simply:

YES OR NO?

AGREED…

STIPULATIONS ACCEPTED…

BRING IT…

JENNER – So be it then former President Lance Jade…If I recall, that location is quite hazardous, I believe having been abandoned and all. Now that you know where to find me., this transmission is over.

LANCE – (speaking low) Not by a long shot…

Michael glances towards his superior knowing that once Lance leaves the room and heads for J-1198, The Council will contact him. Still Michael no longer cares about protocol, the screams of a helpless and brutally treated female like Tula, boils anger in his own blood. Spinning on one hell he rushes towards the door, and turns back to Lance, who still stands at the monitor.

MICHAEL – Lance? Come on let’s go!

Lance runs his fingers through his military cut blonde hair, craning his gaze back to the last reply Jenner types into the screen reading simply, “COME ALONE OR ELSE.” With a heavy sigh, he turns, draping his arms along his chest in deep thought, glancing to Michael.

LANCE –I can’t let you follow.

MICHAEL – I don’t understand…with me on your side I can snipe him before he can even raise a finger…

LANCE – (sighs) No, I won’t let history repeat itself. He said I have to come alone, but he didn’t say I couldn’t LISTEN to others. These audio communicators will have to do. I need you to handle another matter for me that might prove more crucial in this situation.

Michael shakes his head a moment, clearing the delusions of grandeur in his eyes…images of Lance and Michael bucking broncos in space…dreams of gunslinging action taking out the evil Sheriff Jenner. Knowing that before his dreams…duty must come first. Clearly he had not violated The Council’s wishes just yet, but the minute Lance went to meet Jenner, all bets would be off.

MICHAEL – Ok…I understand, tell me what I need to do.

LANCE – (nods slowly) I need you to go and find and check on Marc Jade. He might wake up and he remember what happened. We need all the info we can on Jenner. With our linked communication you can then inform me of what he tells you. I want you to stay by his bedside and await further instructions.

MICHAEL – (nods) Take care of yourself my friend…I placed ysalamiri cages even in the abandoned hangers as well, just in case. There are two cages in J-1198 presently. Say the word and I’ll release them.

LANCE – (nods heading to the door) Get down and watch over Marc, if Jenner learns that he missed one of his targets, he might make another attempt.

Michael smiles to Lance, and reluctantly the two exit the room, fully armed and split directions as Lance heads to the right, while Michael heads to the left, each heading to a separate turbo lift. As Michael begins to trot off he turns around quickly, calling out.

MICHAEL – Wait a minute Lance! I have to tell you something.

Lance turns around slowly, rhythmically turning on one of his heels, eyes focusing on Michael.

LANCE – Umm?

MICHAEL – I have a very bad feeling about this…be on your guard.

LANCE – (smiles) Hey, it’s me!

After the exchange of words, Lance returns on his path, moving to a turbolift and entering it as he glances far across the hall to Michael doing the same, flashing him a thumbs up sign as the doors close and he heads down to the medical facilities, while Lance has to take three separate lifts to reach the under-developed section of VT, where construction was still in progress to restore, but never resumed on the chosen battlefield…the perilous grounds of Hanger Bay J-1138.
 

INTERIOR: THE KILLIAN THRONE ROOM – HIDDEN PASSAGE

Pain…pain was all Val could feel as his eyes adjusted to lights dimly lit above him. Seconds ago it seemed, Val had reunited with his lover to find that in the end his worst fears were true, that she was in fact...a clone and nothing more. Though this finally set to rest his reluctance to take her out of the equation and kick Cire’s butt, for the moment his mind was plagued with images of the past…half of him was happy he knew the truth, while the other was teeming with a deep rage. Betrayal was one of Val’s biggest pet peeves…he trusted few because of it.

Aching from head to toe, Val ran his fingers along the wounds in his right shoulder, inflicted there by Agen’s stab with the reverse end of Gen’s personal lightsaber. Mentally Val was shaken from the inside out, his body was racked with agonizing pain, his shoulder trailing lines of crimson down his bare chest, in which his shirt was torn off of him previously to avoid the flames of Cire’s torches. Val didn’t know what was going on behind the hidden passage he has mistakenly found, but for the moment he took his time glancing around the room, drawing in cleansing breaths. Free of Agen’s deadly trancing gaze he could once again call upon is full force potentials and begin to heal his battle-ravaged figure.

Suddenly Val leaped to his feet and reached for his lightsaber, seeing a figure standing before him, dressed in a long black sleeveless trench coat, crimson red and gold armor and baring his Versai Crests. Was he staring into a mirror? Had Cire cloned his own Val too? No…drawing in a deep, cleansing breath Val looked closer to the figure before him, reading the letters etched into a polished plaque at the bottom “Valaryc Versai – Collectors Edition”.

He looked at the full 6’1 figure with a puzzled expression. The form before him was just a collector’s mannequin of himself in his last known attire that he wore from his battle on Mos Eisley. Val scratched his head a moment and began to look around the rest of the room…disturbed and yet flattered by what he saw.

There pasted on the walls were articles from the galactic tabloids, posters, snap-shots, and even character designs, sketches, and lithographs of Val! Val’s eyes widened at the degree of merchandise manufactured using HIS name. From minature replicas of his vehicles, to fan made comics and other memorabilia, Val had gathered what kind of place this “hidden” area was…

It was a shrine to him?

For all Val knew Cire loathed him in every aspect. Perhaps no, it wasn’t a shrine it was a reminder to Cire of all the things Val had accomplished since his death. This must be how Cire managed to keep tabs on him, fan produced merchandise. Val closed his eyes a moment, then paced to the left side of the room, glancing through various “life action” stills of his battles and fingering through a large collection of video HVD’s (holo video discs).

Oh yes, “Quillion” was quite sick in the head. He had everything of Val’s from personal items to detailed replicas of his weapons like Gen Zeridian’s lightsaber, models of The Imperial Shuttle version of The Assailant and the MARC edition. Val was awestruck by how wrong he must have been to assume for five years since his absence, the world didn’t care about him. It dawned on Val that this was typical Cire behavior…he wanted what Val had…Cire was still jealous.

VAL – (shocked) What the hell? I’m an action figure?

Val smirked a bit as he picked up a small figure of him dressed in his oldest attire, of the signature black sleeveless trench coat, older Versai Crest and the primitive black vest, the same one he lost in a battle with some droideka’s back in the cantina. The figure wasn’t cheap either, it bared a real leather jacket, and cloth pants…standing at 12 inches, complete with two lightsabers. One was Obi Wan’s Second the other was Gen’s hilt.

Moving down the line was like a trip through time, for each 12 inch doll was garbed in outfits from his past and his present. Each little doll was fully detailed from the first edition of him in his little known “Dark Jedi Student” attire to Scout Trooper armor and the Bounty Hunter variation, complete with working trident launchers, custom pulse gun and shield projector.

Even in the thick of all this battle, Val reflected upon others who might own such things. Sure it was merchandise produced behind his back, underground items but still it did prove to him that he was far more appreciated then he once thought. The words of a few would be “heroes” were lost in the millions of voices questing to meet him or catch a glimpse of his exploits.

Glancing closer along the items he noticed The Killian insignia. Suddenly it struck him like lighting, no fan could get this amount of detailed information on Val’s life unless he personally knew him. Cire was profiting off his name! All of the merchandise was produced by  QKI industries Quillion Killian Incorporated!

VAL – That greedy lil…Arghhh

As angered as Val was at the deception of Cire filling his pockets off his family’s name and Val’s personal life, he was even more angered to come across figures of the women on the other side of the room, each equally detailed figures of Corerilla Dublon, Leia Organa Solo, Isis Surul, Crymson Vachon and a broken figure of Terra. One thing that really got on his nerves was that Cire had made a figure of himself in his Dark Jedi Academy attire, and placed a figure of Gen Zeridian by his side, while a figure of Val was broken in two pieces on the table.

To this moment, Val had no idea how deep the obsession and jealousy ran in Cire’s demented psyche. Val continued to pace through the room, haunted by images from his past he didn’t want known in public display. Along with the action packed poses of his figures and maquettes of his outfits, there were also images of trauma and horror. Cire had his industry construct a fully articulated diorama of two events in Val’s life that scarred him deep. The first was the grisly precise detail of Cire standing behind Gen Zeridian, blood painted between her breasts, with a knife poised to slide across her throat. On the other end of the remake of the Dark Jedi Council room, was Val chained to the same table. It was like looking into the past through a crystal ball. Along side it, just before was another detailed scene of the tragic battle in the rain, complete with large sprinkler like devices that could turn water on and off, and mini strobe light devices as well.

Val found the design impressive, despite its supporter. Seeing the detail in the trees that reside on the Forest Moon of Endor. But he detested the position of himself and Cire. Val’s figure was bleeding, clothing torn below Cire’s feet. Cire stood above in worse condition. His clothing was barely even visible, and the amount of crimson on him was like a mask. But he held the same blaster he used to end the battle and win the fight by cheating…in his hand was a tiny replica of the Versai Locket.

Quickly Val took his hand and smashed the scenes, picking up the sections of the display and throwing them around the room. The real images blazed through his mind and he glared around him, no longer impressed by the merchandise or the people, clearly Cire had now officially gone too far. Val paced around looking for a way to get out, then saw a odd looking lever on his right. Calming himself by slowly closing his eyes then reopening them, he pulled it.

Another section of the wall slide back, but this time the room inside blinded his eyes with vibrant white and blue shimmering steel. There were three cylinder tubes spaced evenly apart in a rounded half circle at the far north end of the intensely lit room.
 

INTERIOR: HIDDEN PASSAGE – KILLIAN TECH ANALYSIS ROOM

Slowly pacing into the location, Val’s eyes roamed along the interior viewing various rows of computer screens and mechanical equipment surrounding throughout. Then he focused his gaze on the familiar outline of his long sleeveless trenchcoat.

Val races over to the table which it was set on, stretched out. He recoiled in horror to discover that his preciously designed “Vengeance” attire was now disassembled into pieces, the fabric was torn in several sections, and wires and bits of micro-circuitry were sprawled out along the table. Val tried to suppress his emotions of anger, fingering through the wreckage of his prized outfit. He could see that whatever had occurred here, this room was very, very different from Cire’s lil “play room”. This room was used to examine his technology. The machines were scanning equipment, and each piece of his attire was being dissected to see how it ticked.

Ticked was a fitting word, for was now not only sure he was going to tear Cire and his little wench wife limb from limb, but because he tore apart a VERY expensive piece of machinery, Val made it even more personal between them. Val’s coat was in ruins now, the blast dampening fabric and the special fluted collar was severed and the stuffing bled from inside it. Val glared from the table over to the four tubes, locking his gaze on the first outfit…it was Sara’s.

Unlike Val’s clothing, the outfit Val had designed for Isis was still in tact behind the shimmering transparasteel glass. The only thing that seemed to be out of place along the crimson red and black garment was where the padding was, and the stealth generators were placed, the casings were removed, exposing the micro circuitry inside. Val’s eyes slowly moved from the boots, up to the belt and he traced his fingers along the glass where a bloodstained hole was placed along the upper left chest area.

VAL – (speaking to himself) I wasn’t strong enough…I wasn’t fast enough Sara…

Closing his eyes and refocusing him, something came to his attention. Seeing the flashback of Sara’s stabbing by 8D8, he noticed that there appeared to be no fatal gashes in the outfit. This led him to redouble his stubborn nature and cling on to his duty, dissipating the sadness with hope. For if there were not visible fatal marking on the uniform, other then the single, deep hole that looked as if it ran clean through the fabric, it meant that behind the carbonite block, Isis was not only alive…but in another garment. Val’s gaze quickly shifted to the second tube, spotting Corrie’s outfit in pristine condition. Shrugging his shoulders, reflecting upon the image he could see out of the corner of his eye he suddenly came to the realization that though Corrie was under Cire’s spell from the collar, she was now unconscious on the floor. If Val didn’t get back into the action soon…he might lose another female friend.

As Val turns to return to finish what he started he suddenly stops short, seeing out of the corner of his eye in the third cylinder a very darkly designed outfit. Under along the bottom there is a little green display panel reading :

“QUILLION’S DUELIST ARMOR”

Val’s fingers slide along his chin in thought, gazing to the armor, then over to his dismantaled Vengeance attire, gazing back and forth slow at first then faster…. spinning on his heel he paces over to the front of the case.

He takes a moment to reflect upon the design of the garment. Letting his eyes roam over the following sections :
 

THE BREAST ARMOR

Quillion’s breastplate armor is composed in layers. The first of which is a highly durable blaster retardant black rubber like material. Atop that layer, which completely surrounds the wearer’s body is another set of decorative crimson red armor plates. The plates are lined with a layer of cortoris ore  and contain a second layer of dura-steel armor underneath, making strikes with a lightsaber very difficult, since the nature of the material resists the power of a lightsaber’s deadly energy blade. The deep crimson red lines run along from the shoulders, inward, down the pectoral and abdominal regions of the wearer, and are vibrantly displayed against the jet black glove underneath. Each part of the “six part” is shielded by a separate section of crimson red metal, while along above snake like “eyes” of the outfit, where a smooth, sharp edged “iris” runs down the pectoral areas is the same pattern as it diminishes in size along the shoulders, and carries down towards the back, where the muscles of the back are equally treated like the front.

Along the ribs of the outfit, from just below the pectorals, all the way down the sides on the left and right, in separated rounded flutes, similar to the ones around Val’s coat neck. These which resemble the black spiraling of plumbing pipes, but made of a rubber like material that allows him to achieve maximum flexibility, to dodge oncoming attacks. From the breastplate Armor, out to the sleeves attached to it, is the very same padding used in Darth Vader’s menacing uniform, right down to the semi-sectioned lines running across the more prominent vertical bevels in the fabric, all in a semi-glossed black finish.
 

THERMAL PANTS

Quillion’s pants mimic the same structure as the upper portion of his suit. The ribbing runs from the upper thighs down, in a oval design to just before the knee caps, but this portion of the suit does not contain the look of the black body glove under layer of the breast armor, instead it is composed entirely atop the Vader-like padded material, running from the hips, down to just inside a pair of typical black boots, in Val’s style further showing Cire’s jealousy. There is also a unifying element between the upper portion of the duelist suit and the lower half of the pants, in the form of a more hard, plastoid like storm trooper cod piece, that is primarily the same red as the metallic armor sections of the breastplate, with evenly spaced black sections between, the crimson red raised bevels in the unit. This is mostly used to protect his groin and buttocks from injury, but it also lends itself to present his more dark Imperial mockery beliefs, having stolen the plans for Storm Trooper armor earlier in his campaign to gain power and wealth.
 

THE BELT

The belt to Quillion’s uniform was a typical belt that a standard Storm Trooper would wear, only instead of the white plastoid material, the belt was formed of black storage compartments, used to store ammunition and supplies. The distinguishing element of the belt was the higher up designed buckle of the highest quality smoothed steel, with a release in the center. The Imperial officers and upper regional Admirals and Grand Moffs used the same buckle in the Empire. This was Quillion’s further display of mockery to the Empire and all that it stood for.
 

THE BOOTS

Last but not least was the final touch to the duelist uniform, a pair of jet black, knee high boots in the same exact style as Val’s choice. Competed with crimson red Killian Insignias just below the rims. The boots mimicked Val’s boots so well, Val actually stopped and compared to two, glancing to his reproduced versions of the boots he wore twenty-five years ago, this was apparent because the Versai Crests in the boots were the more archaic design of a golden “V” with a triangular notch between the rising arches.

Val’s eyes craned along the uniform as he once again glanced over to his decimated attire. Slowly, he paced over and traced the tattered and torn sections of his sleeveless trench coat, quickly jerking his wrist as his eyes widened in anger, shearing a perfect shred of the coat from the top, down to the bottom. With brute strength and feral intensity, Val ripped the strip of black and gray in two pieces, casting one aside, glaring outward to Cire’s “shrine” room, and almost clear through the hidden passage he fell through.

Spinning on one heel he glanced over to a computer unit, watching the lights blink and the gears of the machine hum and crank in standard intervals. Taking a deep, cleansing breath Val began to channel the force into his veins, using the images of those Cire has injured and the catastrophic things he has done to focus the energy into his next move, sliding his fingers along the left and right of the computer unit, which was about the size of medium built safe.

VAL – (grabbing the machine) You’ve gone too far this time Cire, no one and I mean NO ONE messes with MY clothing, you do NOT touch Val’s coat…

Glaring his focus on the third cylinder tube, Val’s muscles began to swell and flex as the force aided to enhance his attributes of strength and speed, feeling the power flowing through his veins like lighting. His brown orbs running from the bloodstained uniform of Isis’s outfit, to the attire of Corrie seeing flashbacks fueling his desire in a endless stream of vibrant imagery…

VAL – (talking to himself) YOU THINK YOU CAN USE MY LOVE AGAINST ME CIRE! LET’S SEE HOW YOU DEAL WITH THIS LITTLE SLICE!

The silence of the room is shattered in unison with the echo of cracking transparasteel glass paneling, the vibrant lights of the room render lines of vibrant white as the shards of shattered glass fly in all directions, and where the machine used to be, ripped from the floor were sputtering blue sparks of severed wires, ripped apart from a computer unit, no longer there.
 

INTERIOR THE KILLIAN THRONE ROOM – LOWER LEVEL (RIGHT SIDE)

As Val prepares to launch his own plan against Cire, on the other end of the blazing twin torched wall of the room, the newly discovered Agen T’Negun viciously slashes into the smooth black metal of the wall’s cold, dark surface, all with little effect. Agen’s eyes crane back towards her husband Cire, still advancing on his niece with a bloodthirsty melee of kicks and punches. Since Val and Agen’s abrupt “intermission” Cire has now managed to pin Terra against one of the support beams, and has her hoisted up with one hand, as she desperately tries to break the hold around her neck.

Cire watches Agen’s purple lightsaber cleave into sections of the highly enforced secret passage, knowing that she could swing her blade till she exhausted herself, having lined it with a layer of cortoris ore so no one could get inside, not thinking for a moment all someone had to do was find the concealed trigger, he slapped his hand across Terra’s face and dropped her to the floor. Terra’s body quickly absorbed the pain, using her force abilities to try and suppress some of the pulsating damage away, for the moment she decided it was best to lean against the pillar and focus herself, drawing in deep gasping breaths as Cire turned his back arrogantly on her in a very victorious manner.

CIRE – (turning to Agen) Agen dearest…Cease that pathetic display at once, haven’t you figured out by now a lightsaber is useless against that door? Be a good wife and listen closely. There is no way inside that door once the mechanism is triggered from the front. There is also no way out of there until he decides to open the wall from the inside. SO QUIT WASTING YOUR TIME AND WAIT FOR HIM!

Agen shoots Cire a awkward glance, then nods in submission flicking the switch to her lightsaber off as the blade extinguishes back into the claw shroud. Her vibrant purple eyes narrow, thinking about the injuries she has sustained from Val’s superior Form “V” tactics, even with all her studying and her training she still could do no better against Val then Cire had managed in his younger years. She closed her eyes and slowly reopened them…waiting for the right moment, letting the power of the dark side guide her sensitivity. Much like Darth Maul she began to slowly pace back and forth along a single, straight lined path before the door, keeping her eyes transfixed on it’s shimmering and now slightly heated orange surface where her blade manage to cause only slight, uneven bevels along its surface.

She was the hunter and her prey was behind the door…in his cubbyhole, safe from injury for the moment. Gingerly Agen allowed her eyes to gaze back over to her husband. Cire was dressed in a long black, flowing robe that went clear down along the floor. Along the back of the robe centrally located, was a vibrant silver Killian logo and various Killian glyphs ran down two sides of the front of the robe, clear to the tips along the floor, also in silver but set within a off gray background, akin to Efface’s robe. Black fingerless gloves, very similar to Val’s brand, covered cire’s hands and from his wrist up to his forearm .His attire underneath was more or less formal then menacing. It consisted of a two-piece suit of pure black with silver Killian hieroglyphics running along the sleeves that loosely covered over some of the taping along his arms, while his pants also matched the attire.

Along his chest area was a pattern similar to that of a Japanese design formed of silver arches and curved, sharp designs that when seen from a distance formed the illustration of two twin dragon like creatures, whose tails ran down the sides of Cire’s legs. All of course could only be seen if the robe was not currently covering him. Portions of his attire were torn away however, from Terra’s semi-successful swipes of her javelins, but under his formal “suit” Cire was no dummy and had on a fully body, black thermal gloved suit with temperature control functions he could control with his belt, and lined with very high grade armor weave and lightweight armor plating. This is again why Terra could not breach the fabric and draw blood from his safely concealed skin.

CIRE – (smiling to Agen) You know Agen despite the fact Val has been kicking your tail I’m rather impressed with your last deception…it was so wickedly evil. It just goes to show you just how much we…were made for each other.

AGEN – (grins maliciously) I am what you desire in a woman my love. Everything I possess if brought on by your desire and it is my pleasure to serve you.

CIRE – (winks) Oh yes you’re quite adept at “serving” me beneath the she….(cut off)

As Cire exchanges lustful comments with his wife, he does not see that Terra has once again gone on the offensive in the form of a foot coming straight for his head. In a flash of crimson red and black Terra is once again advancing on her Uncle, landing the kick enough t knock him off his game. Cire’s eyes crane back towards Terra as he takes a page out of Val’s book and sidesteps to the side of Terra and swiftly slams the butt of his drawn Sith Sword under her chin. The impact is enough that Terra is knocked clear off her feet and tumbles to the floor, coughing with a busted lip.

CIRE – (talking to Agen) Excuse me a minute lover dear…I have to educate the niece.

TERRA – (screaming) EDUCATE THIS!

As Cire turns his back towards Terra, he notices that she is no longer where she fell. He only hears her voice as a swift rounding fist nails him square in the jaw with such ferocious anger and whipping arched force enhanced speed it sends his body and robe whipping around to his left into the same pillar he had pinned Terra against. The impact is so powerful and so focused, Cire loses his grip on his mother’s sword and it is sent hurling from his grasp along the floor, screeching into the darkness, only visible by the flames that dance off its mirror polished blade.

TERRA – DID I PASS THE TEST UNCLE! OH SHOULD I GIVE YOU EXTRA CREDIT!

Terra picks up Cire and slams her fist into his chest, as he struggles to regain his balance. Another whip of her foot sends a crushing roundhouse kick to the side of his head, but this time Cire focuses his dark side energy and does not topple, nor lose his balance. Using his greater force abilities he arrogantly stands against the pillar, pushing back one of Terra’s kicks long enough for him to dust himself off and glare towards his niece with a mischievous glint in his narrowed eyes. Cire knows something that Terra does not…as Terra is impulsive and swift like her mother Crymson, Cire knows that to be the best does not always rely on how quick you or how many kicks you can lay on an opponent, it all comes down to focus and concentration. His mind was always working, glancing to Agen who now has begun to advance to aid her husband from the far right of the room.

As Cire absorbs the punishment Terra deals to him, he begins to dip into the power of the dark side, feeling its raw hatred fueled energy fill his veins, smiling to Terra as his lips arch upward, curling his jet black goatee and revealing his shimmering single row of teeth…his own menacing grin before he unleashed unbridled, unrestrained torment on his opponents.

CIRE – (glancing to Agen) No…Stay there Cupcake…I’ll be joining you in a moment. Watch the door and wait.

Cire’s demanding gaze reaffixes on Terra as a soft blue glow begins to form around his fingertips, grinning to Terra, as she stops her attacks, finding that now as quickly as she can unload her combinations on him, Cire is now taking the offensive once more, easily flicking away her punches and kicks with his hands, which begin to glow even more intensely blue in color.

CIRE – Terra…Terra…Terra…You had such potential, but alas I’m afraid you failed to study for your FINAL EXAM!

Akin to the thrilling “sudden death” round of his battle with Val, Cire suddenly extends both his palms forward with his fingers splayed out as bolts of ice blue “shard” lighting hurl directly, practically point blank into Terra’s body, instantaneously her body is sent spiraling back as the bolts of glass like lattice energy shear into her skin and through her mother’s attire. Terra is completely helpless as Cire stands before her in a halo of ice blue, the aura casting highlights along his free flowing all gray streaked hair whipping about in an invisible force wind. The bolts of energy work exactly like razor sharp pieces of glass, ever changing they weave their way into Terra’s skin, shearing into it as well as setting her body aflame with agonizing pain. Terra is driven back swiftly as Cire paces his way from the support pillar behind him…letting the lighting stop momentarily as the energy flickers around Terra, dropped to both knees gasping for breath and a moment of recovery from her Uncle’s brutal force lightning.

CIRE – YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY YOUR MOTHER IS DEAD TERRA! DO YOU EVEN KNOW YOUR OWN SOB STORY? LET UNCLE CLEAR IT UP FOR YOU!

Cire unleashes another salvo of force lightning into Terra causing her to stumble back in intervals, to the center of the throne room ad Cire advances facing her, towering above.

CIRE – TERRA T’NEGUN, THE UNWANTED CHILD OF RAS KRUEGER! AN IDEALISTIC, WEAK MINDED, OVERCONFIDENT IDIOT!

Terra gasps and cries out as Cire continues to unleash his lighting each time he breaks his speech to her.

CIRE – ENTER THE MOTHER…CRYMSON VACHON. AN ATHLETIC SPEED DEPENDENT SUPERBITCH WHO NOT ONLY FAILS TO DESTROY ONE MEASLY STUDENT AT HER BROTHER’S ACADEMY BUT SLEEPS WITH HIS SUPERIOR!

TERRA – But she was family….(gasps)Your own blood!

CIRE – (hurling lightning) THEN SHE BEGS A SECOND IN COMMAND NAMED QUILLION TO ALLOW HER KID TO JOIN HIS NEW FOUND KILLIAN ORDER! OUT OF THE KINDNESS OF HIS HEART HE ALLOWS HER DAUGHTER TO STAY AND WHAT DOES LITTLE TERRA DO? SHE SPITS HIS GENEROSITY BACK IN HIS FACE!

TERRA – (screaming out) BUT SHE WAS YOUR OWN BLOOD! SHE WAS ALL WE HAD LEFT!

Cire scowls and flicks his fingers towards Terra again, as she has now been not only torn from the inside out, but bleeds from several lacerations to her body, holding up her hand for mercy, which Cire does not grant to her.

CIRE – HAVEN’T YOU FIGURED OUT IN THE T’NEGUN FAMILY THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS LOYALTY THERE IS ONLY ONE THING! POWER! IF YOUR MOTHER OR FATHER OR SISTER RIVALS YOUR POWER! TO HELL WITH THEM! ITS ALL ABOUT SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST THERE IS NO ROOM FOR THE WEAK!

TERRA – POWER! NO UNCLE ITS NOT ABOUT POWER ITS ABOUT YOUR INSECURITY!

CIRE – (scowls) SILENCE CHILD! YOU WANT TO KNOW OF POWER? VACHON T’NEGUN KILLED MY OWN FATHER BECAUSE HE HAD MORALS! HE WAS A ROGUE JEDI! SHE WAS A SITH WITCH!

TERRA – What kind of flawed logic is…

CIRE – YES TERRA! THE T’NEGUN FAMILY IS AN EXCLUSIVE SECT JUST AS THE OBSIDIAN ORDER WAS! THE ONLY DIFFERENCE IS IF YOU SHOW WEAKNESS YOU DIE!

TERRA – WHAT WEAKNESS UNCLE? MY MOTHER COULD WIPE THE FLOOR WITH YOU!

CIRE – (grins) Now you are starting to understand niece. She could rival my own in power, THAT IS WHY SHE IS DEAD AND I’M STILL BREATHING! IT WAS HER WEAKNESS THAT COST HER, HER LIFE!

TERRA – (coughs) Then you resort to call “love” weak? How can you love your sick cloned creation?

CIRE – (smirks to Agen) There is a fine line between “love” and “lust” child. I don’t expect for a moment for Agen to try and stab me in the back if I show one shred of weakness before her. SHE KNOWS HER PLACE, ITS TIME YOU LEARNED YOURS!

Cire’s eyes blaze with hatred as he moves Terra into his calculated position, grinning towards Agen who licks her fingertip in perverted glee, watching Terra’s body being riddled with lacerations. The blood streaming from her cuts and abrasions arouses her dark nature and she watches both Terra’s torture and the wall where Val lies.

Cire was now on the right side of the room, where to his far left he can see the menacing “X” chair from his previous game with Val, letting an idea sprout in his mind as he glances to Corrie still unconscious on the floor and then back to Terra glaring deep in her eyes, suddenly relinquishing his blinding force lightning attacks on her quivering, smoke risen body.

CIRE – (calm voice) But you Terra deserve so much more then your Father or your Mother. I’m not going to make it quick like I did your Daddy, nor am I going to send you out to your death against Val. From what I’ve seen he’s already settled his issues with you after the mantrap incident. No, Uncle has something far more fitting in mind.

Terra’s body is consumed with so much pain and pulsating injuries, she’s barely able to function in a conscious state, slumped along the floor in a heap, eyes narrowed to slits as she struggles to stay conscious, seeing Cire towering above her, extending his fingers out once more, expecting him to finish her off with another wave of his brutal force afflictions, but she doesn’t see another volley of ice blue, instead his fingers weave upward as she is levitated into the air…to her horror she slowly cranes her eyes back behind her noting the position in which she is floating…

Right into the chair…