CC: The Crimson Covenant

[Syren]

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Surface: Ambaril

Reports are breaking and rumors begin to swirl.

There are whispers in the corridors of the Senate Hall. Janessa decides to release a small statement to the Republic press that would distance her from the revealing yet suspicious accusations lodged against the Prescott family and their known associates while promoting Sector relations. She calls for the authorities to uncover the truth and for the public to withhold judgment until the investigation has concluded. She then clarifies that the Corporate Sector has been viciously and unfairly maligned in association with outrageous and unfounded accusations made by the Trade Federation in their latest ploy to gain the Republic’s trust after a deep history of deception and disaster. This statement is released on the steps outside the Senate Hall with Janessa dressed in a tactfully conservative outfit that exudes an image of professionalism and innocence.

As she concludes, RSB Agents break through the crowds of reporters and formally arrest Janessa Kain in connection to the death of Inspector Pike Erbon. Everything, including their charges and her stunned reaction are captured in high definition quality for the entire Republic to see. She is again taken to the main precinct where the agents demand answers. Knowing better than to fall for their badgering, Janessa narrows her dark eyes and very clearly invokes her right to an attorney.

Kaytt appears swiftly, livid that they would even insinuate Janessa had any knowledge of the events surrounding Erbon’s death, especially so early on in the investigation.
 
“My client has already told you what she knows. To the best of our knowledge, Counselor Prescott is off world with her brother and Rutherford Gellar trying to find his missing children.”

The Director of Republic Security, Laird Drakos, joins them in the interrogation room. They do not believe Janessa’s claims of ignorance, now more certain the children were a ruse to allow Gellar and the Prescott’s to escape.

“Even if that were true,” Kaytt says sharply. “Why would my client simply stay behind? I am by no means trying to minimize the tragic loss of your colleague or attempt to impede the investigation but I assure you my client is not involved. Holding her will not magically produce Counselor Prescott for questioning. She cannot tell you information she does not know.”

Drakos nods.

“So you continue to assert. I am certain you have heard the reports about the accounts discovered in Circe Prescott’s name, the same accounts used to purchase the carrier which allegedly abducted the Gellar-Masterton children. Did you have any knowledge of these accounts, Miss Kain or any other purposes for which they were used?”

Kaytt stops Janessa from responding.
 
“As I am sure you are aware, Counselor Prescott does not work for the Corporate Sector so any financial history or records would not be disclosed to the Sector liaison nor is it her responsibility to keep track of such details.”

Director Drakos is unrelenting.
 
“Given Miss Kain’s proximity and relationship with Garron Prescott while the Sector delegation has been on Chandaar, it is not implausible he may have disclosed, inadvertently or not, information that would be vital to our investigation.”

“I do not like what you are implying, Director.”

“Your comfort with the subject matter is not our concern, counselor Corinthos. We have a Republic Inspector dead just hours after questioning your client, accounts hidden by a trusted member of our diplomatic corps, and a trail of conspiracy that leads right to the Corporate Sector and those who represent it. You can see how this adds a certain credibility to the Federation Ambassador’s claims before the Senate.”

“A little too convenient, if you ask me.”

“Or a clever tactic for the Corporate Sector to appear to have the Republic’s best interests in mind while this transpired in the background. When it became clear they would have to deal the Federation in on the profits, they used the Counselor’s resources to stage the kidnapping to stall the negotiations while the Sector liaison talked sympathetic circles around the press.”

“That’s quite a theory, Director Drakos.”
 
“Here’s another,” he says darkly. “After Speaker Apteen uncovered the purchase order for the carrier made in Counselor Prescott’s name and Inspector Erbon began to investigate at the behest of the Sector liaison, he stumbled upon the Counselor’s accounts. We believe that Miss Kain, whose relationship with Garron Prescott remains the subject of much speculation, warned him in some way. According to our records, there was a call made from Miss Kain’s com-link two days ago to a device registered to Garron Prescott.”

“A full day and a half before Inspector Erbon ever met my client.”

“Erbon was assigned the case after Miss Kain’s first meeting with Speaker Apteen regarding the Federation Ambassador’s statements. In that meeting she requested the Republic authorities investigate the claims made before the Senate. Erbon was the agent asked to do so. Miss Kain could have easily obtained that information and relayed it to Garron Prescott, giving ample opportunity for he or his sister to arrange for the Inspector’s demise.”
 
“I was not aware the medical examiner had ruled on his cause of death.”

Director Drakos taps on the projector in the interrogation table.

“Actually, he has. Inspector Erbon’s death has been ruled a homicide.”

Images appear between the Director, Kaytt and Janessa. Photage of Erbon’s body slumped against a back alley wall, clothes torn and blood soaked. Janessa clamps a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Kaytt barely cringes, eyes finding their way back to the Director’s face.
 
“Just what does this supposedly tell us?”

“The scene was made to look like a robbery. His wallet and personal belongings were missing. However, the sheer brutality of the act, number of entry wounds and methodical nature are inconsistent with such a motive.”

“As tragic and alarming as that is, I don’t suppose you have any proof of my client’s involvement in any of this?”

Director Drakos taps the controls again. The images of a slain Inspector Erbon are replaced by something else entirely. It looks like a sliver, curved ever so slightly to the left.
 
“May I ask what we are looking at?”

“It’s a hair follicle. One of three, actually, that were found on Pike Erbon’s clothing.”

“Fascinating,” Kaytt says. “What does this have to do with-“

“They are a positive genetic match in the Republic database for your client.”

“Wait, what?” Janessa says, clearly alarmed.

Kaytt raises a hand to calm her.

“They were in the same room hours before you say he was murdered.”

“That is true,” Drakos admits, keying up a vid that begins to play. In it, Erbon can be seen escorting Kaytt and Janessa out of the conference room the prior evening. After the women disappear from the screen, Erbon walks through the precinct, talking to several other agents, before heading into the locker room. He emerges five minutes later in civilian attire. Erbon then waves to the secretary at the front desk before leaving the precinct. “But this is the last time Inspector Erbon was seen alive.”

Janessa shakes her head.

“Clearly, Erbon changed clothing before he left. The forensics team examined the uniform left in his locker, the same one he was wearing when he last spoke to you, Miss Kain. No hairs or fibers were found. The evidence in question was found on his civilian attire, hours later, after his body was discovered. This puts you in contact with Erbon after you left the precinct or at the scene of the murder.”

“No,” Janessa says. “I never left my building.”

“Check the security photage,” Kaytt snaps.
 
Drakos’ expression remains grim.

“We did. There is no evidence you returned to your residence through the lobby or stairwell. That is, unless counselor Corinthos can vouch for that. It is my understanding that you both joined friends in the Monaco District for dinner but parted ways afterwards. We have verified the photage of counsel returning to her building at one-forty in the morning and leaving again at ten, just moments after you requested her presence here.”

He seems pleased by their silent confusion.

“Your whereabouts between leaving the Monaco District and appearing at your press conference this morning is something of a mystery to us, Miss Kain. The medical examiner concluded Erbon’s time of death occurred between two-thirty and four-thirty this morning.”

Janessa’s lips part in horror.
 
“That...isn’t possible.”

“Oh, it is entirely possible and more than enough evidence to hold you in connection with the murder, wouldn’t you say, counselor?”

Kaytt glares at him.

Drakos stands, signaling for the agents to enter. They restrain Janessa and remove her from the interrogation room before Kaytt can object. She whirls to face him, furious but at a loss for an explanation. He nods as he passes, heading for the door.
 
“Good luck on your defense.”


-TBC

[Medivh]

Korriban

“Darkness calls to darkness. It calls to you. You can feel it like a heart beating within this temple. How will you respond?”
-Darth Talon

Dahlia awoke.

It was like before, but different.  Staring above her was the same durasteel ceiling, and she lay on the same durasteel slab that made up her bed.  The walls around her were the same and the opening blocked her exit with its energy field.

It was like before – but different. Because this time, she was here by choice.

The sith woman had taken her back to the cell, quite surprising Dahlia.

“Am I still your prisoner?”

“You are my apprentice”

“Do apprentices get treated like prisoners?”

It was a smug statement, and she had regretted it the moment she said it, the sith woman turning, ferocious anger in her eyes.  Dahlia found herself lifted several feet off the ground, wind pipe constricting, air trying to break through.  The sith’s face turned casual.

“An apprentice who wishes to one day be a master?  Yes.  You are coddled, Dahlia Winton.  You have been weakened by a life of comfort.  And one day, you will return to that world.  To make sure you are hardened, to make sure you are strong, you must be tempered with pain and suffering.  You must learn to live with pain, suffering, fear, anger, hatred.  For these things will make you strong.  Will make you what you are destined to be”

Dahlia fell to the ground in a heap, coughing as air again entered her lungs.  The sith woman towered over her.

“Are you having second thoughts?”

Dahlia coughed again, but shook her head.  No – she was determined to see this through, to become the sith, with the power it held.  Then, she could get back at the woman for how she had treated Dahlia all this while.

“Good.  Get some rest.  Your training begins tomorrow”

Dahlia said no more, not wishing to incur the wrath of the woman.  Not until she stood a chance of fighting back.  True, she had almost killed the sith, but that was luck.  It was unlikely such an opportunity would come again soon.

Dahlia lay down on the slab, taking that first night’s sleep, not as a prisoner, but as an apprentice.

And it was not an uneventful sleep either.

Images flooded her mind, images that were foreign and still familiar somehow.  She saw a battle of two like her – her birth sisters, Karen and Alexia, an epic battle in the halls of a a massive space station (her first thought was Centerpoint, but this looked darker than the pictures she had seen, and less friendly toward humans).  She saw her adopted sister and the boy Riley, a few years older holding hands and walking in what looked like a garden on Naboo. Adopted brother Dane, older, first sitting at a sabaac table, and then, leading a group of similarly aged teenagers through a darkened street. Chaos began to ensue.  Riley and Dane fighting, Gemma trying to step between the two, only Gemma now wearing the robe of a jedi padawan.

And then back to her two sisters.  Her REAL sisters, that is.  As if they noticed they were being watched, the fight between the two ceased and they turned to face Dahlia.

“Sister, have you come to join us?”  That was Karen, the ‘nicer’ of the two
“No, Karen – she has come to succeed where we failed.  You were too soft, I was too aggressive.  But Dahlia is smarter than we ever were, more cunning.  She will have your popularity and my strength.  She will be unstoppable.”

Karen looked worried, Alexia looked smug.  They stood side by side, but then, their images melded together, a primordial blob that then separated into two different people: Her father and mother.  Her real father and mother.  Alexander had the same smug look that Alexia had had; her mother, the Queen Monica Greyson, had, Karen’s worried look.

That image faded to show Rutherford and Celeste, running, and then the one who looked like Valerie, the Federation ambassador, in a blaster fight, and then, the angle of her dream turned, like a panned camera shot, and she could see what they were running from – it was Dahlia herself, stalking with a confidence, a power, that she instinctively knew would be her future.  The images faded, and then, there was her father, Alexander.

“Daughter – you will be everything your sisters and I were not.  You will have the power to rule them all”

That was when Dahlia awoke.

It was like before, but different.  It wasn’t her surroundings that had changed, it was her.  She wasn’t a prisoner, she wasn’t a weakling, she wasn’t a victim.  Today, she was a sith apprentice.

TBC.

[Syren]

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Surface: Ambaril

Deeply disturbed, Kaytt decides to investigate.

She was with Janessa when she called the press conference. They discussed it on the way to dinner. After going over what should be said, Janessa put out word. The dinner itself had been a riot. There were four other friends who joined them; a partner with another prestigious firm, one of the marketing directors of the Nalaa Grey fashion label, the newly appointed liaison to the Corellian Sector, and a well-known socialite. Kaytt and Janessa had shared their adventures with Inspector Erbon and his ridiculous inquiries although it was agreed that things looked fairly dire for the Sector delegation and Republic Counselor. They all chimed in on ways to spin it, pointing fingers and throwing blame. The conversation seemed to lighten the mood. They stayed for a drink after dinner then left the restaurant.

The socialite invited everyone to a club but they declined. The partner and marketing director shared a hovercab. Kaytt hailed one of her own since she was headed in the opposite direction. Janessa walked with the socialite but left her at the entrance of the club. She claims to have hailed a hovercab shortly afterwards as the streets of the Monaco District were teaming with revelers itching to see and be seen. The extremely hungover socialite confirmed waving Janessa off before entering the club but cannot remember actually seeing her enter the hovercab. Her account is spotty at best as she would not be deemed a reliable witness.

Kaytt rides down to the central station for Republicab. She asks around to see if anyone remembers picking up Janessa Kain at the approximate time. She is a public figure, after all and has been in the news periodically although not quite as much as the past week. By now they would all know her face but no one seems to want to help. She is given the run around then stonewalled by the viciously unfriendly administrator who reminds her pick-up records are only available with a subpoena. That would require hitting up a sympathetic judge and gaining support with the RSB.

At a loss, she decides to find out just how far the news had spread.

She places a call to her younger sister Trichelle in the Corporate Sector, who she hasn’t spoken to in almost six months. The reception is about as warm as she expects but she presses on. Teenagers are always a gauge for how quickly news can become gossip. Bored, Trichelle says she heard Janessa is some kind of slutty deranged psycho cop killer. Apparently it’s worse than she thought. How could something that just happened already be passing between spoiled school kids millions of lightyears away? Stranger still is how easily the supposed evidence painted everyone in a guilty light, almost as if effortlessly tying up loose ends. She thanks Trichelle and hangs up abruptly.

There has to be more to the story, a deeper connection of some sort. Kaytt suspects it may boil down to Rutherford Gellar. It is his presence in the Republic capital and initial clash with Ambassador Tacofer that seemed to kick things off. Just how deep does it go? She needs more information.

Her com bleeps, shattering her thought process.

“Corinthos.”

“Kaytt,” says a voice very familiar and dear to her. “It’s Iver.”

The head of the Direx Board is a very close friend of her father’s and had known Kaytt and Trichelle their whole lives. His call is not surprising given the circumstances.

“I take it this isn’t a social call.”

“Miss Kain’s situation does put us in an interesting position.”

“And you would like for me to provide some clarity?”

“If it doesn’t violate client privilege, of course.”

Kaytt  sighs, “I’m afraid it doesn’t look good. For anyone.”

“You believe she had something to do with the Inspector’s death?”
 
“Of course not. She’s not the type.”

“Come now, Kaytt.,” Iver says. “You know better  than anyone that people are capable of quite a bit more than others give them credit for.”

“I’m not saying people aren’t duplicitous but Janessa has served the Sector faithfully for almost a decade. She has nothing to gain by undermining you or her position within the Republic.”

“I’m not doubting her loyalty but the investigation brings more heat than we need right now. Gellar’s antics and the allegations against Prescott jeopardize our reputation in the fragile marketplace. Perhaps a temporary leave of Miss Kain’s position is in order until we can resolve matters and restore our name.”

“And profits,” Kaytt says, smirking to herself.
 
“You always did understand how things work but there is something that has been bothering me.”
 
“More than your bottom line? I’m all ears.”

“In our last communication, Miss Kain said she believed the Federation permits were approved through secret dealings with the Senate Speaker, Shale Apteen. Has she elaborated on that theory?”

“No,” Kaytt says. “But now I’m curious. Did she say what kind of deal?”

“Not specifically but we need to know if the Federation has more leverage than the products they can supply.”

“So, you want to publicly distance yourself from Janessa but require information from her to help the Corporate Sector triumph over  the Trade Federation and gain favor with the Republic?”

“You can see the dilemma.”
 
“Officially, Janessa Kain is my client. If clearing her name happens to benefit you and unravel the mystery then so be it. We’ll be in touch, Iver.”
 
Kaytt clicks off and heads for the RSB precinct. She needs answers from Janessa and to see if Director Drakos would be open to other possibilities.
 


-TBC

[Medivh]

 Korriban

”Tell me what you regard as your greatest strength, so I will know how best to undermine you; tell me of your greatest fear, so I will know which I must force you to face; tell me what you cherish most, so I will know what to take from you; and tell me what you crave, so that I might deny you.”?Darth Plagueis

Dahlia felt as though she had never worked so hard in her entire life.  Sweat poured down her forehead, stinging her eyes.  Her body burned in a hundred places.  Clothing had been transformed into rags as a result of her efforts, and bruises colored her pale skin.

She had started with a feeling of confidence, that as one gifted in the Force, one who had used its gifts in the past, that the training would come naturally to her.  She had not been prepared.

On the first day, the sith woman had finally identified herself to Dahlia, calling herself ‘Lady Adubell.’ 

That had been the warmest the woman ever became.  Immediately, she set Dahlia to doing menial, back-breaking tasks, from scrubbing floors to using her bare hands to destroy some of the stony columns jutting out of the floor. 

Dahlia hated it all, but if ever she so much as whimpered, Adubell would retaliate, striking her with lightning until she collapsed in spasms, Force-slamming her against a hard wall (or jutting spike), choking her with a mere gesture.

Purple welts each told a story of the cruelty under her so-called tutelage.  And at the end of each day, As

Dahlia was escorted back to her cell, Adubell would ask the question.

“What have you learned?”

Dhalia never knew what the right answer was, but no matter what she said, it always seemed to end with more pain, and another night in cold, hard, solitude.

She missed the comforts of her former life.  Clothes.  Showers. A real bed.  She was starting to doubt the choice she had made.

But then she remembered.  That life, the life with all those comforts, that had been a lie.  And the ones who gave it to her had just as easily abandoned her.  If Dahlia wanted those things, she would have to take them for herself.  That’s why she was here, that’s why she had to stay, had to endure it all.

But it seemed like it was getting nowhere.

She was aching as she stood in front of a stone, like so many others.

“Destroy it.”

Adubell was standing behind her, giving her commands. Dahlia was staring at the stone, contemplating what form of torture she would endure today for failing to properly obliterate the stone in front of her.  She thought about the tasks she had done, quite frustrated.  What was the point of it all? She resented being treated as a trained animal, doing what she was told.

She felt the muscle tighten painfully as she lifted an arm toward the stone, pressing her palm against the cool surface, feeling the stone’s texture.  Then she closed her eyes, trying to focus her thoughts.  Adubell had said anger and hatred fueled power, and she tried channeling those emotions.

There was Rutherford at the forefront, standing there, watching her be tortured before turning and running, abandoning her.

Rutherford, the abandoner

There was Celeste Masterton, the liar

There was Adubell, the torturer

She had a list of individuals she was angry with, her mind sifting through each in turn, feeling the anger building within her.

And just as she thought she had built herself up enough – WHAM!
Concentration was broken as her body was slammed forward, the room swirling as her head collided with the rock.

Regaining balance, she turned to Adubell, with her stone-cold features.

“I was doing as I was told”

“You didn’t destroy it”

“I was going to”

“It’s not done. You failed”

Dahlia shot back “You cannot fail until you try”

“You ALWAYS fail, whether or not you try.”

“Why don’t you show me how it’s done than, if you think I’m doing it wrong”

ADubell’s hand smacked Dahlia hard across the cheek.  Aside from her force abilities, Adubell was not afraid to use normal physical strength to abuse Dahlia.

“You haven’t learned anything yet. It’s not about how”

“Than what is it about?”

“It’s about who you are.  Do you know who you are?”

Dahlia glared at Adubell.

“I’m Dahlia Winton, daughter of Alexander Winton”

“No, foolish child.  That’s who you were.  Dahlia Winton was a weakling, prone to become a pathetic socialite like her sister Karen. Dahlia Winton will never be a sith”

“Alright than, who am I, if you have all the answers”

“Now now, Miss Winton, if I give you the answer, that would be cheating”

“So what, I have to guess?”

“There are other ways of getting answers than guessing.  The answer already exists.  You have to take it”

Dahlia was confused by the answer, but before she could respond, she found her body literally flipped around to face the rock wall.

“Destroy it”

Dahlia shook her head, staring at the stone, closing her eyes.
She could spend days like this, constant repetition of nothingness.

If she could not pass whatever riddle Adubell had set before her, she would never fulfill her destiny. And it seemed impossible to guess the riddle. She knew she could destroy the rock, but if that wasn’t the real test, than doing so wouldn’t help her.  If she failed to pass the riddle, than she would never be

“anything …”

The word passed as a whisper and she opened her eyes, turning to face Adubell with a sudden realization.

“I’m nobody”

Hearing herself say it, she said it again, louder.

“Nobody. I am nobody.  Because I am not Dahlia Winton, not anymore. But I am not yet a sith.  So I am neither. I am nobody.”

The words escaped her lips almost like a gasp. Adubell was staring at her intently, offering her own contribution.

“Not worthy”

Saying those words outloud brought back memories – painful memories.  When she learned who she WASN’T – she was not a masterton, not a Gellar.  She DIDN’T have family. She was alone.  The idea of being nobody was too much … she could feel her body shake at the vastness of the revelation.

“I’m nobody”
She felt her eyes moisten, and she took a step back, away from Adubell.
She felt unsteady with emotion.

And then she felt something different.  With the emotion – the genuine emotion, she felt her adrenaline kicking in. But it wasn’t just adrenaline.  She could feel the Force, in a way she hadn’t felt it before.  Not a burst of uncontrolled energy, or the small bits of controlled ability she had learned at home.  There was a wellspring, a slowly rising fuel.

Eyes burning with sweat and tears, she let that emotion wash through her and she turned to the rock, not touching it, but reaching out with a hand.

The entire column of rock burst from where it was rooted, pieces flying forward, cracking into more pieces as it hit other rocks, the last chunks crumbling to dust off in the darkness.

Then she turned to Adubell, who watched her again with that silent intensity.

Dahlia was not crying – it wasn’t sadness she felt. It was a strange emptiness. And she had used that emptiness to, fill herself with the power of the Force, the dark side.  She controlled it.

“What have you learned?”

The answer came easily to her, so strange that it had eluded her until now. It was almost as if the emptiness itself were providing her with the answers

“I am nobody. I am broken.  But, I need that. I need to be nothing. I need to be broken.  Because only nobody can be transformed completely.  And to rule as a sith, I need to be transformed completely.  I need to be broken.”

“Good”

TBC

[Syren]

“Because this time I’m
Fighting a constant doubt
I can’t seem to figure out
How we’ve come so far
But it’s loud and clear
I feel the fall again
But can’t seem to understand,
“How did we come to this?”

-The Epilogues “The Fallout”

*

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Surface: Ambaril Spaceport

Counselor Circe Prescott has run out of tears to cry.

The journey aboard the cargo ship she had been stashed away in was uneventful, leaving plenty of time for her to reflect on the ever present sting of betrayal by those she holds most dear. Most of the way she had sobbed to herself in a corner. She cannot understand how everything had spiraled so far out of control. And she knew exactly who to blame.

Mara Tacofer.

Everything was blown to high holy hell when that faux-Valerie came to the capital and collided with Rutherford Gellar. A part of her wonders is this was all part of the plan. A clone of Gellar’s estranged granddaughter touting the biological spawn of Kimber Patten just happens to rep the Trade Federation? Replaying the facts in her head causes her to laugh through the tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. It’s completely ridiculous. Of course she wants to help the Gellar-Masterton’s. She never knew Valerie or Karen but she had counseled Kimber and grown very close to Melanie. Their saga was one for the ages, something that struck a personal chord in the tragedy of their often-times unwitting parts played out on a galactic stage.

And her brother? That bastard. How could he, of all people, believe she is capable of such hideous crimes? Garron should know better. What burns her up more than his disbelief is the magnitude of the allegations leveled against her. Nothing makes sense and with this, a massive shadow is now cast over her entire life. Everything she has ever done is called into question.

So many questions she cannot answer.

Once they touch down in Ambaril, Circe pulls her hood down and wanders out into the city. She walks until she has collected herself enough to approach two RSB agents standing on the street corner, chatting with one another. She pulls back her hood, letting the sun blind her eyes, as she speaks.

“My name is Circe Prescott and I am surrendering peacefully to the Republic authority.”

*

Surface: Republic Security Bureau Headquarters: Director’s Office

Director Laird Drakos is impressed Counselor Kaytt Corinthos returned to him in such a humbled state. The edge had softened considerably as she attempts to spin some theory about the sheer coincidences and possibly deeper connections.

“That’s called good detective work, counselor. You know how it works.”

“This is different,” she says, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. “Nothing is ever this cut and dry. Evidence just doesn’t appear out of thin air.”

He glances at the consol lit up on his desk, a wry smile find its way onto his face.

“Apparently, suspects do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Circe Prescott turned herself in.”

“Where?”

“Almost a kilometer from the Ambaril Spaceport.”

Kaytt scoffs, “Just like that? She wanders right into RSB custody?”

“So it would seem. She is being brought into the precinct for processing. You were saying?”

“You don’t find it the least bit odd that almost immediately after allegations by the Federation Ambassador are leveled at the Corporate Sector before the Republic Senate, all the evidence to prove it suddenly finds its way into your hands?”

He narrows his eyes at her.

“We don’t deal in odd, counselor Corinthos. We deal in fact. And the fact is, your client’s genetic material was found on a murder victim who just happened to be a decorated Inspector of this office. The other facts include accounts in Circe Prescott’s name and documents with her signature on them. It’s difficult to overlook such glaring evidence as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“You paint a picture of opportunity. What about motive? Neither of these women have any reason to do what they are being accused of.”

“Currency, influence and power are considerable motivators. Women are not immune from their siren’s call.”

Kaytt sighs, “I’m not asking you to discount anything until you’ve dug a little deeper. I feel like we’re just scratching the surface.”

“Of what exactly?”

“A much deeper hole.”

Her com-link bleeps and she excuses herself, stepping away from his desk. It’s the Speaker’s office, requesting a meeting with Shale Apteen himself. Discretion is the order of the day. She agrees and clicks off, returning her focus to the Director.

“I’ve got a lead. Do me a favor?”

“Since when do law enforcement and officer’s of the court do favors for one another?”

“Extend me a professional courtesy.”

“Shoot.”

“Keep Prescott on ice until I return.”

Drakos laughs heartily, “You’ve got to be joking! We want to know what she’s been up to and how it relates to Janessa Kain.”

“And you will. You have your suspects in custody. All I’m asking for is a little time.”

“To build your case to free them? Not a chance.”

She shrugs, “Have it your way. She’ll just demand counsel without telling you shit but if you cut me some slack, I may be able to help you piece this mess together. You do want justice for Inspector Erbon, don’t you?”

“Of course we do.”

“Then help me figure out how deep this goes.”

Admittedly, his curiosity is piqued. This case has many angles yet he is reluctant to trust a lawyer, especially one as savvy as Corinthos. Still, the possibility of collaring a bigger fish, one holding Circe and Janessa’s strings, is a powerful lure.

“You have an hour.”

Kaytt nods, walking quickly back through the precinct and out into the busy streets of Ambaril. The Senate Hall looms before her. She takes a breath and quickens her pace.

There is no time to waste.

*

Surface: Republic Security Bureau Headquarters: Central Booking

The movements seem slowed, a reality distorted, as she is led through the precinct. Agents stop and stare as she passes. Someone even whistles. The restraints are tight, digging into her wrists but she doesn’t wince. She is led down a long corridor toward a secluded row of cells. The agent leading the way slows as they approach the last cell on the right. The doors slide open as the restraints are removed and she is thrown inside. Standing on the other side of the cell, looking both frantic and surprised, is Janessa Kain.

The cells doors slam closed behind them.


-TBC

[Syren]

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Surface: Ambaril: RSB Headquarters

There is a tense standoff where both women stare at one another in complete silence. No one knows where to begin. It is Janessa who speaks first.

“How’s Garron? Is he alright?”

“Oh,” Circe says, scowling. “I’m just fine, thank you.”

“I’m sorry…it’s just…I was worried.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet but clearly we have more important things to worry about aside from the state of my sorry yet momentarily safe brother. I hear you’ve been busy. How’s that murder rap going?”

Janessa sneers, “About as well as those conspiracy charges against you.”

“I conspired with no one.”

“That’s funny because I didn’t kill anyone either. We are being set up. Accounts in your name, my hair on a murder victim, its ridiculous! The Federation is behind this.”

“I’m guessing if you had proof of that you wouldn’t be in here.”

“My lawyer is working on it.”

Circe pulls off her tunic and falls onto one of the thinly padded cots.

“And who, pre tell, have you secured to defend you?”

“Kaytt Corinthos.”

“Really? She’s sharp. Think she’s got room for another client? Apparently, I’m loaded.”

Janessa crosses the cell, hands placed firmly on her hips.

“Perhaps but you can start by telling me where you have been. The RSB has been all over my ass from the moment you took off with Rutherford Gellar. I hope it was worth it.”

“We found the children,” Circe says quietly, glancing away. “If that means anything to you.”

“You make me sound heartless.”

“More like a sexually voracious opportunist, from what I hear.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know of you,” Circe says. “That’s quite enough for me.”

“We are both caught up in this so you can just get the hell over yourself. The Republic believes you staged the kidnapping to thwart the negotiations which should have cost the Federation their right to trading permits. Only it didn’t. They were granted in short order after the rousing speech from Ambassador Tacofer.”

“How little you know.”

“Enlighten me.”

Circe’s dark stare is unnerving, “That wasn’t Ambassador Tacofer.”

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“It wasn’t her.”

“I was there,” Janessa gasps. “It was calculated treachery at its finest and the Senate bought every word. After everything the Federation pulled in the past, they made the Corporate Sector out to be childish and petty."

Circe is about to stop her but Janessa is on a roll.

“The RSB has all these absurd theories about how Gellar’s sole purpose for coming here was to undermine the Federation from the start, using Garron’s connection to you to do it. Then there’s me, who they insanely believe was left behind to either cover for you or take the fall.”

“And the slain Inspector? Where does he fit into all this?”

Janessa sighs, pacing the length of the cell.

“When I went to Speaker Apteen after the hearing, I was so sure of the Sector’s innocence so I insisted the Republic investigate as well. They assigned this Inspector Erbon and that’s when the purchase order for the carrier surfaced with your signature all over it.”

“Where did they get it?”

“At first I thought it was manufactured by the Federation to solidify their case but then everything else started appearing. The media took it and ran, creating the vast conspiracy now blaring from every station. The RSB believes Erbon was close to something after he questioned me and I tracked him down and killed him.”

Circe arches a brow.

“Did you?”

“I told you I didn’t! I saw the photage. He was slashed to ribbons. There is no way I could have done that.”

“Yet your genetic material was on the body.”

“Much like your signature was on the dotted line. Don’t you see what’s happening here? The Federation is using us to screw to the Sector. They don’t just want those permits; they want the Sector out of the way entirely.”

Circe marvels at the delusion, shaking her head.

“Are you so dense that you truly believe this stops with the Corporate Sector Authority? Don’t you know who these people are? The Gellar’s? The Masterton’s? Those name’s aren’t familiar to you?”

Janessa scoffs, “Oh, I saw the movie, okay? High fashion, high drama, all in a Coruscant that was.”

“It wasn’t just a movie. Maker Almighty, you are unbelievably narrow-minded. The scope is far vaster that you realize. Many on the periphery were pulled in and never made it out.”

“Don’t be so theatrical, Counselor. You can end this by telling the RSB where you were.”

“That may not be the best idea right now.”

“Then at least tell me.”

“Are you familiar with the phrase ‘plausible deniability?’”

“Fine,” Janessa says. “Shut me out.”

“I’ll settle for you shutting up.”

She rears back, “Shut up?”

Circe stands, staring her down.

“Yes, Janessa, just shut up.”

Janessa slaps her. Circe stumbles, recovers then slaps her back. Janessa cries out, lunging forward. They collide and stagger across the cell, slamming against the bars. Circe swipes her hands away and shoves her back. Janessa careens in her heels, clawing wildly in the air, grabbing Circe’s hair and dragging her down too. They end up in a pile on the floor, screaming and slapping at each other.

In another part of the building, on the small desk monitor, Director Laird Drakos leans back in his chair and smiles.


-TBC

[Medivh]

Ten years ago ?
 Centerpoint Station

Saga Judec made his way to the executive suite to confront Alexander Winton

"You attacked Corellia"

"A necessary part of the plan, sir"

The argument ensues, and High Commander Saga Judec approached, pulling out his blaster now

"FORGET Corellia?  Corellia is all we have!  If you cannot grasp that, then you are no longer of service to me"

Winton glanced down at the blaster, his smile disappearing.

"Actually, Commander, it is you that are no longer of service to me"

Winton's hand reached out, and without touching Judec, the gun was knocked from his fist.  Winton's second hand came up, half open, clenching slowly.  Judec's body suddenly lifting off the ground, his hands reaching to his neck as he gasped for breathe.

"Trai....tor..."

Winton's smile returned

"The only person I've ever declared loyalty to, High Commander, is myself.  Goodbye"

With a final clench of his fist, Winton pounded his hand downward.  Judec's head jerked sideways in an unnatural fashion, then plummeted to the floor.  No breathe, though a small amount of blood dribbled from his lips down onto his Confederation Uniform.

Winton  stepped forward, head tilting as he looked at his handiwork.

? I suppose we should clean him up?

?Don?t?   Adubell stepped out from behind a partition, black hair cascading down upon bare shoulders, her body hugged by a dark colored negligee outfit. ?I think he makes an excellent decoration?

Alexander turned to face her, admiring his paramour?s figure.

She turned toward him, a coy smile on her face.

?It?s a real shame ? he was quite useful alive.  An excellent puppet, and a distraction to the Empire. It?s a shame I wasn?t allowed to play with him ??

Alexander stepped away from Judec?s body, toward Adubell.

?Now, my dear, I couldn?t have you ruining him.  If I handed him over to you, he likely would have been turned into a cowering fool. I need him to be a prideful fool?

?Oh, you flatter me, Alex.  Do you really think my sith powers are that strong??
?your sith powers ? along with other features you?ve been endowed with?
Adubell moves forward, subtly swaying and accentuating her hips
?Oh, I don?t have everything I could. I?m not immortal.  Not like you?
?Not yet, but soon.?
?Apparently, those ?other features? of mine haven?t led you to trust me?
?If I trusted you, you wouldn?t be interested in me?

Adubell scoffed, mock offended, stopping her forward movement and placing her hands on her hips.
?Alexander Winton, are you implying that I am just using you?

He smiled back ?Just like I?m using you?

He drew forward, wrapping an arm around Adubell?s waist, pulling her into an embrace.

*****
Adubell is lounging, nude amidst the tangle of sheets, watching as Winton dresses.
?Have you thought about it, Alex??
?About what??
?The child?
He turned to face her, frowning.
?What makes you so certain there was a third??
?A man like you was meant to never stop procreating?
He scoffed
She shook her head, sliding her body up to a sitting position.
?Alex ??
He held up a hand
?If there is a third daughter, I will not be able to find her, nor do I want to.  As far as I?m concerned, I don?t need any more children. Alexia, Karen. One was too aggressive, the other too weak?
?Both were sith, like me?
?Yes, well if either daughter had turned out to be more like you, she would have been my ally.?
?I could make sure that the third one is more like me, more like you?
?The child would still have the same blood that made Alexia and Karen failures?
?It?s not your blood that?s the failure, Alex. It was the upbringing. I could quash that weakness.  Make the child strong, your true heir apparent?
?I don?t need an heir.  I can live forever?
A distant siren interrupted the conversation.  Alexander Winton glanced away from Adubell, a smile crossing his lips.
?It?s time?
He turned back down to his paramour
?You know where you need to be??
Adubell nodded, rising from the bed and moving to the closet, pulling out a simple jumpsuit, neutral in color and denomination ? no one would easily identify her as an enemy.
?I?ll be monitoring the surveillance cameras? She sounded bored saying it, and of course, she was ? she could fight better than almost any soldier on the station, and had argued with Winton that she should be allowed to assist in killing one of the remaining targets ? Mara, Karen, Melanie, or  Dementat.  He of course, had disagreed, and she had eventually acquiesced, but that didn?t make her happy about it.
?If anything happens unexpectedly here, I want to make sure that I can review the photage. A loss here would be quite a setback, and while I have patience, I?d like to avoid any mishaps.  If it happens, make sure to get off the station and meet me at the rendezvous point.?
?If you die here on Centerpoint, you won?t be able to review the photage later?
?Ah, but you know, my dear, I cannot die. I have made sure that I will live forever?
With that, Alexander left the room, leaving Adubell to finish dressing

Present Day ?




Korriban

? ?What we pretend to be we often become.? -Darth Krayt

The lessons had changed.  Through physical exertion, mental torment, Dahlia knew she was someone different.  Or, as she had come to realize, she was not the person who she had been.  She was still nobody.

The raw emotion of pure abandonment left her both stronger and more vulnerable.  There were days she ended, weeping. And days she ended with a new gleam in her eye.

Adubell would ask who she was, and her response was always ?nobody? ? but Adubell could look past Dahlia?s facial expressions, see into her thoughts and feelings.  Knew if ?Nobody? was the truth, or a lie.  And if it was a lie, Adubell would spend the next hours breaking Dahlia down even more.

She had not seen sunlight in seemingly forever.  There was some artificial light, but she learned to accept the darkness.  It was a part of her, she was a part of it.

The tasks required of her were also changed.  Less of the menial ?destroy this, sweep that? and moving on to stronger telekinetics ? lifting heavier and heavier objects.  As soon as something became easy, the difficulty doubled.  Able to lift a starfighter? Now lift two at once.  Still can do it? Try doing it while having Korribanian ants swarming the body, biting, setting a burn throughout the flesh.

Her body too was stronger yet weaker ? over exerted, under nourished (supposedly, she had to get supplementation from the force itself), and yet she had muscles she had never had before.  Not bulky, but her soft skin had hardened.

Broken down and rebuilt, each task caused her to rely more and more on the despair she felt, turn it into hatred.

Adubell would quote sith sayings to her, articulating the need to use emotions, yet she herself never seemed to show them.  Such was a quandary that Dahlia one day dared to ask.

?Who is asking the question??
?A mere apprentice?
Adubell didn?t smile, but the lack of pain told Dahlia that she had not lied in the statement, had truly felt low enough.
Instead, there was the answer. Sort of.
?What are emotions??
?Emotions are a tool, to use?
?They are more than that, my young apprentice. They are the fuel of your power.  And how does fuel work?  It must be funneled.  When fuels are burned, we don?t see what powers the machine.  We see the waste ? a fire causes a chemical reaction, the heat is the part that escapes.  The more emotion a sith SHOWS, the more of their powerful fuel they are wasting.  My emotions remain within.  I have them. I use them.  But they are contained, and that makes it more efficient, more useful, more powerful?
?Don?t the jedi contain their emotions too??
?No ? the difference between the jedi and the sith is this.  The jedi use their power to eliminate their emotions.  The sith channel their emotions to increase their power.  While we increase, they decrease.  That is why the sith are always stronger, and will always win?
?But they don?t.  They haven?t the Sith are in hiding, and the jedi are in strength?
?It requires many, many jedi to counter a sith.  We haven?t lost, young apprentice.  The jedi recruit and develop, dozens of padawans.  And to destroy just one sith, they often must sacrifice them all. And still, we are here?
?As are they?
?They are here because of the betrayor.?
?Betrayor??
?Vader ? you know the tale, do you not??
?A powerful jedi, supposedly meant to bring balance to the Force. Became a sith under the Emperor, Darth Sidious, killed Sidious and himself to save his son?
?Were it not for that act, Darth Sidious would have destroyed the last of the jedi. He was betrayed?
?Do sith not believe in betrayal as part of its tenets??
?Sith believe that when an apprentice is strong enough, he will either be killed by his master, or kill his master. That is not betrayal, that is nature. Vader weakened himself out of love?
?Is love not an emotion?
?In Vader?s case, it was a wasted emotion. It could have made him stronger, but instead, it made him weaker. It killed him?
?For his son?
?So??
?Do the sith not believe in family loyalty??
?Family does not exist in the sith?
?But you are training me because of my father. If not for family, then why??
?It?s not about you, young apprentice. It?s about what you will become. And besides.  You have no father. You are nobody, remember??

Dahlia was about to speak, but Adubell, lifted a hand, and she found herself spun and pinned painfully against a wall.

She turned and Adubell was gone, leaving her to her own thoughts.

TBC

[Medivh]

Ten years ago ?
Corellian Deep Space: Near Centerpoint Station

Adubell remembered watching as Centerpoint Station collapsed in on itself, the people around her, dressed in blue correllian garb, cheering.  She, for her part, clutched the data-disks that she had taken from the surveillance room when she heard the alarms go off.  A part of her was fascinated by the destruction, watching as metal that had stood the test of time inverted in on itself because of a few stray acts by some crazy captain ? and of course, the arrogant miscalculation of Alexander Winton.  That was where her thoughts mostly were, trying to sense him amid the carnage.  She had seen on camera as he was defeated and reborn, again and again, and his final attack against Emperor Dementat, before she had to run.  But she knew that Winton was not getting off of Centerpoint.

She knew her instructions ? rendezvous with the next reincarnation of him, and the plan would go from there.  Alexander Winton would live forever.  She would embrace him, and together, they would rebuild his empire.

Unless of course, Alexander Winton was wrong.

Present Day ?


Chandaar: Republic Capital

Surface: Ambaril: Halls of Justice, Court of General Jurisdiction in the Republic
?Calling now case number 20013-CF2-7083, Republic versus Janessa Kain, and case number 20013-CF2-7084, Republic versus Circe Prescott?

The Courtroom was packed to the brim.  Normally, arraignment was not such a big deal, but here were the two most sensational defendants in the most juicy case in a long, long time.  In anticipation, arraignment  that day had been reassigned the largest courtroom in the Halls of Justice court building, and still, it was not enough.

Reporters, social bloggers, citizens, and legal scholars alike had waited through dozens of lesser crimes for the call.

Flashes seemed endless as photographs were taken of the two individuals, dressed in prison garbs, with hands and legs cuffed and shackled.

They were silent as they were moved behind the defense table by the marshals, who then stood protectively behind them ? They might be criminals, but they were under the care of the marshals, and the marshals would not let anyone ELSE get their hands on them.

The judge, noticed the increased courtroom activity, banging on his gavel several times to get quiet.

The courtroom clerk lifted his head from where he was typing.

?Please state your names for the Court?

?Janessa Kain?

?Circe Prescott?

?Miss Kain, you have been charged with one count of first-degree murder, three counts of obstruction of justice, two counts of fraud, and three counts of conspiracy to kidnap a young child.  How do you plea??

?Not guilty?

?Miss Prescott, you have been charged with one count of conspiracy to commit murder, three counts of fraud, ten counts of embezzling, 2 counts of bribery, and three counts of conspiracy to kidnap a young child.  How do you plea??

?Not guilty?

The clerk?s head disappeared behind the monitor as the judge spoke up.

?Both defendants have been called today to be arraigned on different but related charges, is that correct??

The government prosecutor, a young attorney assigned to deal with the more mundane task of arraignments that day, looked out of his league as he nodded his head.

?Partially, your honor.  The counts of conspiracy are for the same crimes, and the murder and obstruction of justice charges are all inter-related?

?Will they be tried together or separately??

?We believe at this time that both defendants will be tried together, unless defense counsel can ascertain a conflict?

?Do defendants have counsel??

A stand-in attorney, only a bit older than the arraignment prosecutor leaned forward to the microphone at the podium

?Miss Kain says her attorney will be Kyatt Corinthos, and Miss Prescott says she is in the process of picking out an attorney?

The judge nodded, seeming to care little about the sensationalism of the case, and continuing with the normal routine.

?We will set a date for ascertainment of counsel.  Please notify Miss Corinthos that her presence will be required at that time, as will whoever is Miss Prescott?s attorney.  Due to the severe and compounding nature of these crimes, both defendants will be held without bond at the Ambaril penitentiary.?

Janessa Kain whispers something to the defense attorney who speaks into the mike.

?Your honor, due to the publicity of these cases, and these defendants, they request to be isolated from the prison population?

?I?m sorry counselor ? no special treatment for celebrities. Not with a murder charge.  Next date for court will be in two weeks.?

The judge banged on the gavel, Kain and Prescott disappeared into the lockup, awaiting transport to the general prison, and the news reporters were in a frenzy.

TBC

[Medivh]

Ten Years Ago ?

Centerpoint Station

A massive explosion has rocked the outer planet world of Naboo, collapsing the memorial dedicated to the Naboo war against the Trade Federation, over a generation ago.  Naboo Security Forces believe it was the work of terrorists.  Luckily, there were no reported injuries, as the memorial park was temporarily closed for maintenance work at the time of the explosion.

An interesting development from the explosion is the discovery of a massive cave-system underneath where the memorial had stood.  Analysts are studying whether it was natural or man-made when the Trade Federation set up their base there.  There are traces of metal and circuitry amid the rubble and rock, but it is unclear if they came from the infrastructure of the memorial itself, which included an old fashioned droid transmitter, also destroyed.

Naboo officials have yet to comment on if and how the memorial will be rebuilt.  Further investigation is ongoing to find the perpetrators

Alexander Winton stared at the monitor, but was no longer paying attention as the galactic newscast moved on to some other insignificant detail of the galaxy.

Harte Secur.

Emotions coursed through Alexander Winton. Emotions he could barely describe. Emotions he did not wish to feel.

After all, emotions made one week.  He did not need that facility. He had his others. Any sentimentality toward what that particular location had - sentiment was irrelevant, and dangerous.

No, emotion be left aside.  There was a more concerning matter.  Not that it had been destroyed, but that someone had known to destroy it. Someone knew what was there, and someone had purposely destroyed it.

Pressing a button, he summoned a minion to him.  A servant, a slave. Whatever you wanted to call it.
The man entered.
"Yes, sir?"
"I want to run a status check of all of our droid creation facilities.  I want visual confirmation that everything is proceeding as appropriate"
"Sir, wouldn't travel to those locations possibly reveal them"

"Possibly.  But it may be they are already revealed.  I insist that this be done, immediately, ahead of all other projects. Go, now"
The man left in a hurry, well aware not to trifle with Commander Judec's Director of Special Projects, a man who wielded almost as much power as the high commander himself.
Winton meanwhile turned to look out the viewport at the stars that surrounded Centerpoint.  The droid facilities were all well hidden, most far from populated areas.  Most were a complete secret to all but a scant few.  If somebody knew about them, it was because the secret had somehow been revealed.
Emotions or not, whoever it was would pay.
TBC

Adubell stood at the edge of the fence, staring down at the crater that had formed from the explosion.  Her face held no expression, but emotion filled her.
Sadness.
Anger.
Hatred.
Adubell had learned too late what Alexander Winton had already discovered before his death on Centerpoint ? someone had discovered him, and had successfully destroyed one after another of his droid facilities.  Even though he knew what was happening, he still didn?t believe he could die.  Winton had let his arrogance lead to his demise.
Her lover, her equal.  She missed him desperately, the warmth of his skin against hers, the mental sparring as they squared off as equals.  Her partner in crime.
That sadness was not the emotion she wanted, and she turned her attention to the other feelings.  Anger and hatred against those who did this, who so thoroughly destroyed Winton.  His second daughter, Karen, a kin-slayer.  And the beautiful monstrosity, Mara Gellar.
Adubell had witnessed Karen?s death, and assumed Mara too had died on Centerpoint.  Along with the others: Melanie, Dementat, Kimber, and of course, Kimber?s child.  That was it. The four were dead.  The prophesy lost.

Or was it?

Adubell reached out to the fence, hatred coursing through her blood to her fingertips, the simple protective grating splitting apart, and soon, the hole in the fence was large enough for her to pass. Slow, deliberate steps taken into the ruins of the memorial of Harte Secur.  She continued walking, even as she heard shouts from behind her.

?Miss. Miss!  You aren?t allowed to be there!  This is a restricted area?

She stopped but didn?t turn, allowing the voice to grow closer.

?I?m sorry miss, but you can?t ??

Adubell abruptly turned, a soft glow in her eye as a hand came up.  She could kill this pathetic creature, and for a moment, he had the uncomfortable look of his air passage closing up.

But Adubell did not murder him, instead moving a few fingers in front of his face, the man?s eyes fogging slightly.

?You do not want to stop me?
The man shook his head, as if confirming her statement
?I do not want to stop you?
?You want to lead me through the ruins?
?I want to lead you through the ruins?
?You are infatuated with me, and think it will impress me?

The man smiled now, his voice carrying a bit of confidence to it.
?I think it will impress you?

Adubell let out a slight smile as the man moved in front of her, leading her down through the rubble, using his security clearance to pass a series of two other checkpoints before they reached the cavern.

?See?  Isn?t it impressive??

Adubell looked out at the mess of rock with the gaping hole, torn pieces of metal scattered about.

?Very impressive?

In the next moment, the man lay dead, a vibro-blade sticking out of his throat, the sounds of him gurgling his blood briefly following Adubell as she moved in among the ruins.

Eyes glanced over what had once been tubes, carrying Alexander and the Winton family remade bodies.  Shattered glass, durasteel, charred flesh.  It was the perfect place to meditate. Taking a seat among the carnage, she closed her eyes and began to channel her anger inward.

True identity is revealed to them, a test of will and a challenge of loyalty will spawn the tyrant and the idealist. One murder, one betrayal, tied to one sinner, one savior, and the one who lives but does not have life.

In the day of reckoning the daughter of darkness shall slay the beast and be consumed by her rage. Friend becomes foe becomes the second abomination. A tribulation of justice shall follow and of The Four only one can survive.

The One will bear a child out of true love, tempered and tainted by good and evil, dark and light that shall be baptized by the essence of the Force and hold power to give back what the Abominations took away.

Master and daughter of darkness together, a rule eternal, so long as the child does not live.
So it is written, so it shall come to pass.
 

The prophesy had been heard before, in different contexts, but now, Adubell saw it in an entirely new light.

Images swarmed of Karen, Melanie, Valerie, Kimber, Dementat, Mara, Alexander.
And then there it was, a clear picture, one she had been seeking out for months now.

A child, between three and four years old, with the red hair of a Winton.
And a name.

?Dahlia?

Adubell?s eyes opened, reinvigorated.  There was a third Winton child, an heir to Alexander Winton.  Dahlia would fulfill the prophesy, become the daughter of darkness, and become everything Alexander never had.

It was just a matter of time.  And finding where the child was taken.


Present Day

?The Sith have no friends.  Friends are weakness. There are only two categories of people for a sith: Servants, and Enemies?
?But you are not my servant?
?Precisely?
~conversation between The Lady Adubell and her Apprentice, Dahlia Winton

 Korriban

?It is time you learn pain?

Dahlia felt certain that she already knew what pain was, her body sore, skin was blistered.  But Adubell clearly had something else in mind.

?Not for you.  For others.  Compassion is a weakness that must be expelled.  You must feel no remorse toward harming another. The only question is whether causing it or refraining from causing it will be to your greater advantage?

Adubell was brought to stand in what looked like a small boxing ring.  There she stood, in the darkness, for several minutes, before one of the creatures, servants of Adubell, came forward, it?s ugly form standing a few feet before her, a look of devotion in his eyes.

?Torture the creature, but do not let him die. Not too soon, anyway?

Dahlia stared at the beast.  Ugly, horrid creature.  Kidnapper, tried to harm her back on Chandaar.  She could already feel her blood begin to boil, mind going back to a previous training.  The anger must be channeled, not wasted.  She focused her contempt, feeling it move within her, up her legs, through her belly, up her torso and to her arms.

She felt it, the loathing, crackling at her fingertips, and lifting her hand, she pointed at the beast, her voice a hoarse whisper, but strong.
?Pain?
She felt the energy expel from her finger, closing the space between her and the monstrosity, watching as it fell to the floor, beginning to writhe as she continued pointing the accusing finger at it.
It felt good. Justified.  She wondered if she could kill it like this, put a little more into her anger and push a little harder.
That was when the creature changed.  Even amidst the pain, it managed to transform, it?s body taking a very different shape.
Dahlia?s adopted father, Rutherford Gellar.
So startled was she, that Dahlia?s hand dropped, the weapon of the Force disappearing as she took a step back.
?Again, apprentice. I didn?t tell you to stop?
She didn?t start again though, staring down at Rutherford?s face.  She felt tears in her eyes.
Then SHE felt the pain again, finding herself doubled over on the floor as Adubell struck her down with her own powers.
?You hesitate because of sentiment.  A weakness.  There is no one deserving of sentimentality.  This foul creature most of all.  Stand and do as you must?
The pain stopped for her and she slowly stood, turning again to the image of her adopted father.  More tears.  Sadness, betrayal. 

Tears of hurt, turning to tears of anger. Turning to tears of hate.

Don?t waste the emotion, use it

The tears dried and her eyes began to change, a soft glow as pupils widened, consuming.
Fingers again outstretched as the Force coarsed through her, like electricity ? and then, like electricity, leaping from her accusing fingers at the creature before her, stronger than before.
She wanted to kill it, but knew better. The creature had to live to feel paid. That was its purpose, the point of the lesson.

Rutherford?s face disappeared to that of her adopted mother, Celeste Masterton, yet now, Dahlia was focused such on her hate, that the change didn?t even phase her.
It was more of this, feeding off of her hatred, pouring it into the creature as, despite its self-discipline, cried from the agony.
Dozens, if not hundreds of images stood before her as victim. Her adopted parents, the servants of the family household, friends at school.

Then there was Dane, her adopted brother, and she hesitated. Briefly.  Then she remembered that Dane was favored over her ? Dane had been saved, while she had been abandoned ? and the strength of her attack doubled.
When Gemma?s face replaced Dane?s Dahlia was shaking from exhaustion, but now, she was determined, even obsessed with causing the creature pain.
It was Gemma?s face and voice that let out a final cry before it died, the image shrinking back into the ugly monster it truly was.
Dahlia?s attack finally ceased, her body shaking from the effort of the attack, but she turned to Adubell, eyes cold with anger.
?Next time, I hope it looks like you?

Adubell smiled
?Good?

TBC

[Medivh]

Corellia
Low Orbit: Command Platform
Melanie's voice remains even, "The High Commander is taking a considerable risk harboring us. It could have dire consequences for Corellia but the Confederation forces have proved to be a

formidable opponent. Emperor Dementat will be seeking revenge for what happened at Duro and come here looking to exact it. The Confederation will be ready."
"And if it's not enough?" Seneca says.
She turns to the Counselor, "That's where you come in, Circe."
"Me?"
"Yes," Melanie says softly. "You must leave Corellia and regroup with the Republic. Make them aware of our situation. The time could come where we need their help

and I want you to be waiting for the call."
The Counselor's eyes are wide, "I...don't want to leave you."
"You've helped us tremendously, Circe. You were able to reach Kimber when many of us could not. Your wisdom fortified her for what is come. Now, I need you to help prepare the Republic if they

are to have any chance of helping to restore peace to this galaxy."
She folds her hands and nods, "I'll do my best."
"Thank you and good luck," Melanie says, turning back to the others. "Agent Cirque, get ready to move out with Carlson when the time comes. I need to wrap up a few

things on the surface but will meet you both there."
Seneca nods and beings to pack up their things. Melanie departs, leaving Kent staring at Counselor Prescott as she places items into her bags. He moves to his portable consol, taps a few keys and ejects the

datacard. Then he moves to her side. She glances up, startled. They had grown closer in their time on the platform and while he could be irrational and prone to outlandish theories, Carlson was actually kind of

charming. He takes her arm and places the datacard in the palm of her hand.
"Take the story. In case I don't make it. It needs to be told."
Circe frowns, "Kent..."
"Don't. Just go."
She blinks, stuffing the datacard in her bag. She nods to Agent Cirque, lets her eyes play across Kent's face one last time before leaving the room.

Ten Years Ago ...
Circe had returned to the Republic, in time to find that Corellia was under siege by the Empire.  It was not long after that news reached the Republic of the battle and destruction of Centerpoint.

Most in the Republic were elated.  Dementat had been a huge threat, and the Confederation's expanding borders and military machine seemed almost as menacing.  Now, both were in ruins.
Circe was not as happy.  In fact, she found herself in a whirlwind of grief.  Melanie. Kimber. Even Kent Carlson.  She had left them, and she lived, and they died.  She wasn't the greatest fighter, but perhaps if she had

stayed with them, instead of listening to Melanie, she would have survived.
She would find herself cradling the datacard with Kent's story, the story of the Four girls who had become celebrities and tragedies. And as she would hold it, she would cry herself to sleep.
****
At the suggestion of a few fellow counselors, and even her brother, Garron, Circe took a leave of absence from her work.  She wanted to get out of the city, visit other places, clear her head, and heal.

Sitting in the shuttle, deciding where to go, there was one place that she felt she had to visit, to pay tribute to the girls, all four of them, whose story she carried with her everywhere.

Hesperidium

Adubell found herself in a setting quite unfamiliar to her.  Growing up, she remembered living almost as an urchin.  As a teenager, she often found herself awake more by night than by day, seeking out frivolous thrills

and highs to find meaning.  Then, when she began her life as a sith, and through her time with Alex, she found the comfortable setting she loved - the darkness, and the cold sense of steel floating through space.

Hesperidium, however, was a paradise world, sunny, warm, bright, colorful.
Adubell hated it the moment she set foot on land.  Yet it was here that her search had to begin.  She didn't know where the Winton child could be, but after finding the Winton residences on Naboo and Byss destroyed, this was the best place, in her mind, to try to pick up the trail.

Bolerathon Tower.  Built by Masterton and Winton together. Yet it was Winton who left his mark, Adubell running a polished fingernail over the giant W that marked it as part of the Winton estate.

The doors were locked but Adubell had no difficulty getting in, disabling the security with a swipe of her hand. The tower would be less secure in the future, but at the moment, it wasn't entirely clear who actually owned the facility, as Karen Winton had left no publicly known living heir.

The lift, like the tower and surroundings, was too luxurious for Adubell's taste, and she couldn't wait to be rid of this place, on the trail of the child.

That was the thought going through her head as she exited the lift, and turned toward the Winton side of the penthouse.  But then, she felt something, a presence, weak, tired, but there.  She was not alone here, and she turned away from the W in front of her to the cursive M marking the opposite side of the tower, hand lowering to her belt, grazing the metal cylinder weapon she carried there as she began to move forward.  She preferred to not be disturbed, after all, and certainly could not afford to be discovered.

The Masterton suite entrance hung slightly open and Adubell pushed the door wider.The room was well furnished, comfortable, but Adubell no longer was paying any attention to the scene.  Her attention focused solely on the sad young woman who was sitting on the couch, staring at a photograph.Circe Prescott's eyes were bloodshot, as she glanced up with a strange, curious expression.

"Who are you"

Adubell smiled, recognizing the woman.  A Republic Counselor, yes, but also one who had been in close contact with Melanie Masterton and Kimber Patten just a few weeks ago.

Adubell's hand lifted swaying ever so slightly as she used the Force to push into Circe's thoughts.

"I'm a friend. You can trust me, Circe.  I'm going to make it all better"

Circe Prescott smiled and nodded.

Present Day ...
"I can feel your anger. It gives you focus, makes you stronger."
-Darth Sidious

Korriban

Yet again, Dahlia was transformed.
She had learned to endure pain upon herself.
She had learned the value of causing pain in others.
She remembered an old jedi saying 'fear was the path to the dark side,' but in fact, that was only a half truth. Fear was how when fell from grace. Pain was how one made the trip and came out stronger.  She had grown used to the pain. Physical. Emotional.  It didn't faze her anymore. What was a scratch?  A cut? A scar? A bruise?  Just superficial markings, and Dahlia could transcend them. She had to, for that was the only way to succeed.

That didn't mean pain never hurt.  Even after accepting the necessity of pain, she still was subjected to it on a regular basis.

With a growing mastery of the proper mental state, Dahlia was, for the first time in her training, actually being taught a skill.

She stood before Adubell with a stick in her hand, about a meter in length, and cylindrical.  The tip of the stick had a small stinger, as did the matching stick held by the Sith lady.

"Before we begin to fight, we bow at each other"
Adubell leaned forward slightly, and Dahlia, in return bowed her head.

She felt the stick impact her forehead as she fell backward.
"Never lower your eyes to an enemy"

Dahlia looked up, grabbing her stick and swinging it hard toward Adubell, who easily grabbed it, about an inch before the stunner, yanked it from Dahlia?s hand, and flipped it around.
"Never confuse stupidity with the anger you need"

Dahlia's eyes bore daggers into Adubell, who threw Dahlia's staff to the ground.
"Do you know how to fight with a weapon, apprentice? A weapon is both used to attack and prevent attack against you.  You will, in time, learn to predict the motions of the other in a battle, just as the Force allows you to see things before they happen.  This will make you a formidable foe.  Today though, we focus on the simple use of the basic weapon."

For hours, Dahlia learned how to parry, thrust, block, lunge, often feeling the sting of Adubell's weapon, and never once planting a hit on the teacher.

At day's end, she was again limping to her cell, and left alone in the darkness.  But her day was not done.Sitting cross-legged on the slab of metal that was her bed, she began to focus her thoughts, Gathering all the reasons she sought vengeance, and how others had wronged her.  She could feel the Force flowing through her, strong, hot, angry.  She focused her hatred, first on one wound, then on another, using that loathing to heal her body.  She had to be careful, disciplined - if ever she found too much relief, her hatred would dwindle, and the wound would remain unhealed. She had to remember, as the injury fixed itself, that it was not the injury that was bothering her, it was both her own failure: to have killed her teacher, and her teacher's failure to have finished teaching her so that she would not be injured.

It was those thoughts that allowed her body to heal. Allowed her to be prepared for the next day of torture and teaching. Allowed her to grow as a sith.

**********
Adubell watched the camera, an evil smile on her face.
Dahlia was disciplined in a way Alexia and Karen never were. That was why she was already growing strong, already able to use the Force, to channel the dark side. That was how she would be perfect as a tool of vengeance.

Alexander would be so proud.

TBC

[Medivh]

Ten Years Ago ...
The guilt never entirely went away.  She always felt like she had wronged Melanie, and Kimber, that she could have done something else to keep them alive.  But Circe found that she had made a remarkable recovery.  She didn't cry, the way she used to.  And she had decided, in the back of her mind, that she would do anything she could to help the family of Melanie, Kimber, and Valerie if she ever had the opportunity.  With that mindset, she was able to return to work, a respected counselor of the Republic.

But there were times when she was still struck with her guilt - with feelings of helplessness, almost unable to function at all.  When that happened, she would go to her apartment and do the one thing that soothed her.

There was a projector of the galaxy.  It was a rather old model, to be sure, from before the Clone Wars.  She would lift it up into the air, and it would activate, turning her apartment into a place among the stars.  She would get lost in the small twinkle of lights that circled her, and be calmed.  She found that this also helped her sleep, and in fact, she would often not remember dozing off, simply waking the next morning, in her bed, refreshed and alert.

It was a truly wonderful gift, the projector, given to her by her friend.  Circe would shake her head, trying to remember the name of the friend who gave it to her, but the name slipped her tongue.  All Circe was certain of was that it was a very, very good friend.

***********************
Adubell luxuriated in the developing relationship with Circe Prescott.  Circe was an individual, already growing in influence in the Republic Counselors Division - and more importantly, she knew where the Winton child was.  As Adubell had suspected, Dahlia Winton had been whisked away, and now dwelt somewhere in the Corporate Sector, under the guise of a daughter of Rutherford Gellar.

It seemed poetic, really.

But gleaning that information was just the start of Circe's usefulness.  Circe's weakened mental state had made her very susceptible to the Force, and Adubell began transforming Circe into a tool, and a criminal, all without her knowledge.  Soft whispers of the Force, and Circe began shifting credits between accounts, hers and several others, slowly making purchases Adubell did not have the authorization to make.

Adubell would push the dark side on Circe, make her feel despair, guilt, then use the 'gift' she had given her to further command her.
It was just a few months later, and Circe was firmly under the employ of Korrb Security.  One day, she would be the vehicle of destruction, and a scapegoat, allowing Adubell to seek her revenge on the enemies of her dead lover.  One day.  For now, Adubell continued to lurk in the shadows, ever mindful of the greatest lesson Alex ever taught her.

Patience.


Present Day ...

"Conflict forces one to better oneself. It forces change, growth, adaption, evolution? or death."
―Yuthura Ban[src]

Korriban


Dahlia swung the staff horizontally, contacting the weapon of her opponent, the Sith Lady Adubell, who parried and swung back with a high stroke, knocking Dahlia's staff wide, followed by a thrust forward.

But Dahlia saw the second strike coming, moments before it happened, aided by the Force and her hatred for this woman.  Before the staff hit she flipped backward through the air, landing and promptly striking out with her own weapon again.

Adubell responded by pressing forward, feinting, then spinning around to strike Dahlia's side.  A moment too late, Dahlia had her staff in position, but she felt the sting of the weapon against her left arm.

"You are dead, apprentice"

Dahlia begged to differ, dropping her sore left arm to her side while swinging with the staff in her right.  Just as Adubell prepared to block, Dahlia held back, bringing her saber down below the arc she had been aiming for, and slamming the point into Adubell's wrist.

The stinger buzzed, and Adubell winced, the staff in her hand instinctively dropping to the ground.

"A dead woman cannot hurt me, apprentice"

Dahlia had a rare defiance as she swung the blade at the now unarmed Adubell.

"I wasn't dead"

Adubell flipped backward, giving her a foot or so space between her and Dahlia

"You were struck"

"in an arm - I didn't need that arm.  But you've now lost your sword hand"

Dahlia  lifted her blade high closing the distance between them.

Adubell, lifted fingers - from the struck hand - waved them slightly.  Adubell's dropped staff lifted a few inches in the air, connecting with Dahlia's legs and she tripped forward, crashing into the dirty floor, her own staff flying from her hands.  A moment later, she felt the sting on her back.

"Dead, apprentice"

"You cheated"

"There is no cheating, apprentice"

"You didn't have that hand"

"I was a new opponent.  Never assume your enemy is disadvantaged until they are dead.  You sacrificed your arm too quickly - what happens when the other is hit?  You will have to face many enemies, apprentice, and unless you'd like to look like Darth Vader, you need to tighten your fight."

Dahlia felt the taste of dirt in her mouth, could feel it sticking to her scruffed hands, on scabbed knees.  She had finally gotten a hit on Adubell, and now, here she was, lost again.

She focused her thoughts on her fallen staff, lifting it with her rage and sending it careening toward Adubell's back.

Adubell, for her part, turned and parried the weapon aside, but as she did, Dahlia shifted her weight forward, onto those hands, flipping her body up and around, straightening legs out, and kicking Adubell hard in her turned back.  The Sith woman regained her footing, turning to face Dahlia who was now standing with her staff back in her hand, eyes burning as she moved in to strike.
"I'm a new opponent.  Deal with me"

Dahlia came on at her with a fury, giving her strength that made her movements quicker, even though her technique was imperfect.  Adubell found herself blocking more that striking, stepping back foot after foot while Dahlia attacked.

Staffs collided, and Adubell reached out with a hand, pushing with the Force and sending Dahlia hard back against a wall - only as Dahlia flew backward, she managed to spin herself, landing at a stand near the rock instead of against it.  She regained her stance as Adubell came at her, and the battle continued. Thrust, parry, feint, swing.

Adubell would comment occasionally on the technique, but now, it was a fight to see who would win.

Dahlia slammed her staff into Adubell's, and Adubell's staff went wide, but as Dahlia moved in for the killing strike, Adubell reached out her hand and struck Dahlia, hard, with Force lightning, sending the teenager back and shaking in pain, until she was able to bring up her staff to block some of the impact.

As soon as Adubell stopped, Dahlia stood again, smoke still slipping off her injured body as she approached, bringing her own fingers out to hit Adubell with her own fury of lightening.

A thunderstorm ensued, weapons forgotten on the ground by both, before Dahlia broke off the attack, weak, tired, and in pain.  She Force pushed Adubell aside, giving her the moment she needed to regain her strength, grabbing her staff through the Force and bringing it back to her, spinning around

Just in time to feel Adubell plant her staff in Dahlia's back, hard.

"Now, apprentice, you are dead.  The lesson is over, go to your cell"

Dahlia's weapon dropped from her hand and she turned to face Adubell.

"You enjoy this, don't you? torturing me?"

"I do, apprentice, but that's only a side benefit.  Why? are you feeling defeated?  You can always quit, apprentice, and then be nothing, only by choice"

"You never let me know if I improve"

"You don't need encouragement, apprentice.  When you have it right, you'll be ready. Until then, you are dead"

Adubell waited there as Dahlia turned and walked away, limping slightly.

She was getting better, a better fighter, more command of her powers. But she was still young, still a teenager.  Adubell knew that Dahlia would spend the night nursing her wounds, feeding her hatred into her power.  When she was older, more mature, Dahlia would be unstoppable.

That of course, was the idea.

TBC

[Medivh]

Thirty Years Ago ...
Thyferra
The Healing House

Screams were heard echoing through the healing house.
"Push, my dear, push"
In one of the chambers, surrounded by a handful of healers, the woman's legs were spread, her knees lifted, sweat dripping down, and she grunted in the pangs of labor.
A few were aiding her, holding her hand, or ready to receive the child.  A few others stood nearby, murmuring their concern.
"She is losing a lot of blood"
"I don't know if she or the children will make it..."
They chanted their chants, and provided her with the healing substance, bacta, the basis of of their order, and also of the vast wealth of corporate Thyferra.
The woman was shaking from effort, pale as a ghost from her turmoil, but finally, she was rewarded with the shrill sound of a baby's cry.
"One more"
She felt so weak, but she did what she had to, pushing again, as hard as she could, even as she felt herself draining.
"Too hard ..."
"You can do it, my dear... you are almost there"

The second child came, and the healer's set to work, trying to stop the bleeding.  The mother turned her head sideways to look at the children.
A healer drew them close, so she could see them, at least see them for that brief moment.
"Do you have names for them, my dear?"
"Adubell ... and Nevylinn"
The healer smiled, but it was a sad smile, as the woman lost consciousness.
They worked through the night, but she never awoke.
And Adubell and Nevylinn became orphans.


Present Day ...
"It is our goal to be stronger, to achieve our potential and not rest upon our laurels. We are the seekers, not the shepherds."
―Yuthura Ban

Korriban

Learning how to fight had never been something Dahlia anticipated for her life.  She was a socialite, loved shopping and wearing designer clothing, and hearing the latest gossip.

But as she got better, she found she enjoyed the fight. Enjoyed striking a hit. Enjoyed inflicting pain on an enemy.  For the most part, her opponent was still the lady Adubell, but she was also tasked to fight some of the creatures that dwelled in these caves, forbidden to use other force tactics so she could develop her skills better.

She had also changed weapons.  The staffs that had been used felt comfortable in her hand when she was told to use a more off balance device - it had a heavy handle, and a thin, ultralight 'blade' that was electrified along its entire length.

"A lightsaber has no weight in the blade - you must learn to wield a weapon where the blade essentially doesn't exist.  The balance changes"

Dahlia was growing impatient to use a real lightsaber, her confidence in her abilities had grown so.  She dared address Adubell with the demand.

"You are not ready"
"You are holding me back.  I can deal with the consequences myself"
"Stupid apprentice - you don't understand, do you?  So many before you - so many sith have made the sacrifice, marring their bodies to become sith.  But that option is not available to you.  You must remain intact, your beauty, your body must remain unmarred if you are to be as potent a weapon as you are destined to be.  I won't let your foolish arrogance get in the way of that"

Dahlia was about to quip that Adubell didn't seem to have any deformity in her figure as part of her 'sacrifice' but thought better of it.  Instead, she fought harder with the new weapon, practicing even outside of her sessions with Adubell, even when she was dead tired.

Dahlia didn't need sleep - she could feed on the Force for nourishment, replenishment of energy.  After Adubell left her for the day, bruised and broken, she would take the staff and practice swinging it in her cell for hours on end, letting anger, fear, aggression pulse through her veins, into her arm, and the weapon itself. It was an extension of her, a tool to be used, much like the people at her school, her adopted parents, the minions of the cave, and Adubell herself.  All were tools that assist her in achieving domination.

**********************
Days, maybe even weeks or months pass and Dahlia's fighting is more refined, more aggressive, more thorough than ever before.  Dahlia isn't sure how long it has been. She hasn't seen sunlight since her captivity began. She just knows she is ready.  Knows in a way that she didn't know when she first made the request.

And Adubell seems to know it as well.

Dahlia approached the sparring ring, drawn in the dirt of the cave, Adubell standing in the center.  The dim lighting is suddenly pierced by a new color, a new glow as Adubell draws out the saber, igniting the blade, and holding it up.

"It is time, apprentice"

The blade was deactivated and the weapon thrown at Dahlia, who reached out with the Force and grabbed it, looking down at the weapon, examining its contours.

"One day, when you are ready to be a warrior of the sith, you will forge your own weapon. But for now, this will suffice.  Today, you face a new opponent, one that has no fear and no remorse.  Your job is to destroy it before it kills you.  And be warned, this creature will not stop until you are dead or it is destroyed"

Dahlia glanced up, a look of curiosity on her face

"It?"

As if in response, Adubell stepped aside, and then Dahlia heard the hard march of metal on the ground, and the glow of two red orbs drawing closer.

Dahlia ignited the lightsaber, giving it a few swings to get the feel of it as she looked ahead and her opponent drew closer.

Into the sparring circle, the droid appeared.  Tall and imposing, carrying an electro staff that buzzed to life.

"A battle droid?"

"Not just any battle droid, apprentice - this was the model that Phage was based on.  You know who Phage was?"

Dahlia nodded, recalling some horror stories of the droid that ran amuck some 12 years ago.

"This is an IG-100 MagnaGuard, first designed during the Clone Wars as personal guards of General Grievous.  And trained to fight the jedi and kill those who are armed with the Force.  Don't die, apprentice.  You are too valuable"

Adubell disappeared into the shadows, and the magnaguard droid lept forward, weapon poised in a killing strike.

*******
The battle seemed endless.  The magnaguard never tired, and Dahlia had been on the defensive most of the duel.  Every time she struck, it countered, and she was inflicted with a whole series of new bruises.  She called on the Force to strengthen her, feeding herself anger to counter the fatigue she was feeling as the enemy's onslaught continued.

The droid was merciless, that was to be sure, and the electro-staff deadly in its own right.  Dahlia blocked, then the droid twisted, fast, knocking the lightsaber from her hands, and Dahlia watched as it deactivated, flying to the ground a few feet away.

The droid immediately followed with another strike, bearing down hard, and Dahlia raised her hands, in an almost defensive gesture.  But it wasn't blocking the attack.  With a hard gaze at the machine, Dahlia pushed out.

The machine was her enemy.  It tried to hurt her. She would hurt it. Cause pain. suffering.

The droid's weapon stopped a hands-width away from Dahlia's face, electricity crackling from it's end. Dahlia could feel the heat.  But that warmed her even more. Made her blood boil.

inch by inch, the weapon was pushed upward by an invisible force - by THE invisible Force.

Then, with an almost savage grunt, Dahlia threw her hands upward, and the electrostaff rammed upward into the creature's face, piercing through metal and ripping through the other side of its fabricated skull.

Dahlia was standing now as the droid reeled back, damaged but not defeated - an IG-100 was designed to survive even a decapitation.  It was struggling to pull the weapon out of its face, but Dahlia wasn't giving it the time it needed.  Without so much as a glance behind her, the lightsaber was waved forward, ignited midair, and slashed through the belly of the droid.  Hand grabbed the hilt and with a quick spin, the droid's arms and legs were sliced off, then the ruined head, and finally a piercing jab through the falling torso.

Even as the droid fell, Dahlia felt on a roll and she spun around,weapon still activated, intent on finishing off her tutor.

But the red blade collided with a matching one as Adubell stood, a smirk on her face, holding her own saber steady.

"Your attacks are still too predictable, apprentice - only when you are desperate do you have the strength of mind to surprise your opponents.  That being the case, you must always feel desperate, or you will die before you've been cornered."

Adubell lept backward, deactivating her weapon.

"Come - you have learned the art of fighting, and there is more practice to come.  But now, it is time for you to learn more - to see what potential lies for you in the dark"

Dahlia wanted to attack Adubell again, but after a moment, curiosity got the better of her.  She wanted to learn, wanted to know what more there was, what powers she could possess.  Her weapon deactivated, but held firmly in her hand.

"It is time, Apprentice, for you to enter to the hall of the sith"

TBC

[Medivh]

Present Day ...

"Information is a commodity. It can be traded, sold, and purchased. And in the end, credits are only as useful as the secrets they can buy."
―Bane

Korriban

Dahlia had seen very little of the cave that had been her home and prison these several months.  She knew her cell intimately - every contour and corner, and every panel that had replaced the ones she had damaged or destroyed.  Each day she returned to her confined quarters, they looked as good as new, repaired by the captors who kept in the shadows.

She also had seen the training area - a massive cavern, filled with rock formations, forming a forest of rock.  Perfect for the techniques she had practiced.  She had not seen the entrance, unconscious when she was first brought here, and she had never seen beyond the bend, where the shadows seemed to be even darker.

As Dahlia followed her tutor deeper into the cave, she pictured to herself what life was like outside. SUN - it had been so long since she had seen natural light.  Looking down, she saw her skin was paler than it had ever been, colored only by the bruises of her encounters.  What would it be like to return to the world of light?

"You need to focus, apprentice.  No time for day dreaming, and your thoughts are screaming for all of us to hear"

Dahlia blinked, looking forward at the back of her tutor's head.  Apparently, her mind had been read, and so effortlessly, that Dahlia hadn't noticed.

"You said we - there are other sith here?"

"of course, apprentice"

"But I thought there could only be two at a time?"

"Ah, so you did learn something in that expensive school you attended.  The rule of two was established by Darth Bane, that at any time, there is only one sith lord and his or her apprentice.  That rule, while generally followed, is not the case right now.  Besides, the ones that hear you are not current sith.  They are the sith lords of the past. Show some reverence to them, apprentice - their power is strong in these halls"

It was then Dahlia truly began to feel that creepy sensation, the tickle on the back of her neck, like being watched, followed.  She stretched out her senses, feeding it with her apprehension, but whatever presence was there - and it clearly was - remained invisible to her.

"You cannot see them because they are everywhere."

Adubell raised her hand and a loud metallic groan was heard.  A dim light cackled through a growing crack as massive metallic doors opened to reveal a long hall.  Dahlia shielded her eyes as the light grew stronger and they moved forward into the chamber.

Along both side walls, torches were lit, flames flickering and dancing and casting shadows across Dahlia's face.  It looked as though the entire room was alive.  In fact, it FELT as though the room were alive, filled with a malice that was almost tangible.

When they entered, the doors creaked shut behind them.

The uneasiness grew.  Adubell stopped, and Dahlia stood still.  She felt it, a strange pressure, on the back of her brain.

Adubell turned to face Dahlia, giving her appearance a quick look before turning again and falling to her knees in a submissive bow.

Dahlia had a thought run through her head - now was her chance, Adubell was down on the ground, completely vulnerable - kill her and be done with it - but the pressure on the back of her head quelled that thought, and Dahlia too, fell to her knees.

"Oh mighty lords, spirits of the past, show us your power, grant us your wisdom, guide us in our endeavors"

The shadows from the torches seemed to flicker in response, the shadows growing - and then breaking free of where they were cast on the walls.  Shadowy figures seemed to dance around them, ghosts of the past, taking form as walking, flying silhouettes.

A booming voice filled the room, as one shadow, tall and imposing seemed to walk toward them.

"Rise, Lady Adubell - you have done well with this one.  And rise, daughter of darkness - you have much yet to learn"

Adubell stood, and Dahlia, hesistant at first, stood as well.

The shadow's mouth opened as it spoke.

"A time of ascension is close at hand.  For millenia, we have waited for one to arise.  And often, so disappointed.  Lord Sidious was close, but grew arrogant.  If he had succeeded, the Sith would have ruled, and the jedi would be a distant memory.  But no, it was not to be.

Then came another family, a family whose blood was strong in the force.  So much potential.  Alexia.  Dahlia.  But one was too unstable, and the other, too weak.  But the Force runs strong in the Winton blood, and there is yet one who has what her sisters did not.  Dahlia Winton, Daughter of Darkness - we have seen your coming for a long time."

Dahlia was not sure what to say, so she remained silent, all the while wondering what these creatures, these ancient sith wanted of her.

"You were endowed, young sith, with the powers of your sisters, and the cunning of your father.  And we have watched as you have shed the softness of your youth, the weakness of your upbringing.  You have become a weapon, tempered in this land of our  power.  And soon - soon you will be ready to be set loose on the galaxy, to claim it as your own, to claim it for the sith.

But first, daughter of darkness - first you must gain knowledge, must understand the limitless power you can possess, the ways to mask yourself before our enemies, to accept yourself as the vessel of darkness that you are meant to be."

A shadowed hand reached forward as a clenched fist.  Wrist turned slowly, the shadowy cloud opened, revealing in the shadow's hand a ball, red-hot, like fire.

"Come, Daughter of Darkness - embrace the flame, and the darkness.  come to know the truth. And with it, become unstoppable"

Dahlia stared at the ball, feeling its heat emanate.  And she took a step forward.  Then another, her hand reaching out until she finally grasped her hand around the ball.

Instantly, she felt the heat, the burn, the pain, nerves over loaded as pain signals shot through her body to her brain.  But she did not scream, she did not cry.  She stared transfixed at the stone she grasped, pressing her fingers tighter against it, seeing steam rising from her flesh.

She heard a rumble, a roaring sound, quiet at first but getting louder and louder and louder.  The room began to spin, and the pounding in her head was heavier and heavier.  It felt like her whole body was on fire, and all of the shadows and light in the room began to circle around her, toward her, as if being sucked into her very being.

Images flashed before her very mind, comprehensible at first - images of sith battles of ages, of ancient sith lords, of her sisters, her parents, of wars and weeping.  But they grew faster and faster, the heat and pain growing as they began to flash too rapidly for her to comprehend, until all she saw were swirls of fire and shadow.

Involuntarily, her mouth opened and a loud wale escaped, until she felt suffocated by the shadows that had drawn close to her.

The light was out, and Dahlia felt as if she was blanketed in the darkness - The red hot ball had shattered within her hand, and the room was suddenly cold.

She was alone.  But she was changed, again changed.  She felt a strength, a power inside her like nothing before.  The things she KNEW made her confident in a way her prior training had not instilled in her.

And she knew too, most importantly, her role.  She was the Daughter of Darkness - and the infamous Persephonea Prophesy was about her.  She could see the words in the back of her head, the complete, unubstructed.  It was her mission, her task, her quest, to fulfill the prophesy.

And destroy anyone who stood in her way.

[Medivh]

Present Day ...

"Are there techniques to teach me?"
"Not techniques so much as awareness. Technique is for apprentices. You know all you need to know. It's within you. You only have to become aware of it and embrace it."
- Lumiya

Korriban

Dahlia awoke from her slumber.  Though in truth, she had not slept, not really slept, since the day she had accepted herself.  She didn't need it.  In the same way, she didn't really need food.

Food.  Sleep.  They were for mortals, and she was anything but mortal.  Instead, she fed off of the the Force, the power that emanated from the cave.  the darkness filled her, and sustained her.

What Dahlia did not desire in food and rest, she craved in knowledge, and in that, she was insatiable.  From the moment she awoke anew, she thirsted to test what she had learned, the knowledge instilled by the Sith, and to learn more, and more, the secrets of the ancient order, every last scrap that was buried in this darkened place.

Adubell, for her part, indulged Dahlia in the craving - no longer confined to that cell, she spent endless hours in the deeper parts of the cave, and Adubell had revealed rooms filled with the artifacts of the sith, from ancient weapons to the ever powerful sith holocrons.

And Adubell tested her, relentlessly.

"If you are to fulfill your destiny, apprentice, you must be able to hide your essence.  You have grown more powerful, but you emanate the power of the dark side, like a beacon.  You must conceal it"

And they practiced - games of hide and go seek, where Adubell would find, and punish Dahlia for failing to conceal her presence.  But the pain fed her now, and while she was certain that Adubell would soon die at her hand, in the meantime, the training allowed Dahlia to learn the arts of the sith, to grow in knowledge and skills.

Feeding off of the power of the dark side.  She could channel the energy, and feel the pulse of living beings throughout the caves, the world of Korriban, and to a lesser extent, the galaxy. When she was most focused, she could sense other beacons, sources of power within the Force, light and dark.  And she knew that she had to close herself off more, so that she could not be read, even by the most powerful of enemies.

Furthermore, she had a new task, given to her by the tutor, Adubell.

"A sith must have a weapon, one designed by her.  An extension of the body.  It is time you craft your own lightsaber"

In this area, as in others, Adubell wanted to choose correctly, what best suited her.  And so she turned back to the tomes of the ancient siths, seeking knowledge of the weapon - how they worked, what different crystals did, how the handles and other mechanisms worked, the variations of the weapon.

Every day, growing in power, skill, knowledge.

And soon, she would be ready to face the galaxy, and claim it as her own.

************************
Adubell, for her part, trained Dahlia, hard, relentlessly, in the way a sith should be trained.  Alexander would be proud - his offspring would carry on his name, and his vengence.  But she also had other motives in mind, and while Dahlia researched and studied, and began crafting a weapon for herself, Adubell was doing much the same.

In the dim lighting of her space, she worked, crafting a new weapon - one the jedi would never see coming.
TBC

[Medivh]

((Made some adjustments to the post))

Almost 30 years ago ...

A series of huge monitors were lit up against the far wall.  On one, data was streaming, scrolling downward at a rapid pace.  On the one next to it, a three-dimension image of a DNA strand,  floated in a spiraling formation, tiny yellow dots appearing and disappearing along its helixes, corresponding to the data on the opposite monitor.

Along the side walls of the room, a variety of laboratory and computer equipment.  Of note, a beaker encased with a specimen of blood was housed in a cylindrical scanning device, a small probe dipping down into the beaker and letting out small flashes of LED-like lighting displays.

Sitting quietly, watching the monitors, were two men.  One with dark hair, one with red.  Both young, full of life, and above all things, ambitious.

The dark haired man spoke first, "You did well with acquiring the sample, Alexander.  It has exactly what we were looking for"

"It has the enzyme?"

"Oh, absolutely.  And, in abundance.  I have seen traces before, but nothing like the Gellar child possesses.  And it is more complex as well"

The darker haired man rose moving over to the monitors and pointing.

"The enzyme, by itself, is able to do the work for us - it's communicating with every part of the DNA strand, and allows the matching respondent in the GURI program.  I've already begun developing the prototype droid, and will begin testing the program on it soon."

"I'm sure you already have a name for this creation ..."

"That I do.  Phage"

"It has a nice ring to it"

"Of course - and I'm sure it will stand for something, eventually"

"What kind of droid are you going to base it on?  A protocol?"

The dark-haired man shook his head

"It's a myth that protocols are the smartest droids, with the highest capacity.  Clone-Wars technology developed a far superior droid, and one that has the capacity to perform a variety of functions in a way a 3P0 unit or other protocol would not be able to.  I've already moved to acquire MagnaCorp from it's surviving ownership.  The IG-100 will be perfect"

Alexander stood now, smirking

"A bit risky, don't you think so, Medivh?  I believe they developed a droid that eventually turned on its creators, slaughtered them, and became an assassin droid?"

Medivh turned to face Alexander

"The greater the risk, the greater the reward.  When this works, we will be immortal.  Indestructible"

"Just remember I provided you with the key, Medivh"

"Just remember that I'm building the door, Alexander"

TBC

Present Day ...

"What greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause? To use their own knowledge against them."
―Bastila Shan

Korriban

Adubell felt the heat of the forge around her, embracing her.  There was sweat pouring down her forehead.  But she didn't mind.  The machines in the forge were working hard, and she watched through the dim glow of the flames.

It had started as a rock, chipped away, melted, broken down, until the metal was freed from the dirt, the metal then beaten and melted and heated.

A thin strand, like a thread of string emerged from the forge's hearth, and placed carefully in the trench of water nearby.  A brief sizzle as it hit the water, cooling the metal before it was again taken out and tied, taut, between two posts.

Adubell watched the slaves disappear to their work, then stared at the strand, lifting her arm and igniting her lightsaber.  It was so thin, and a saber so powerful.  Adubell brought the blade up and with a quick motion, brought it down on the center of the strand.

But the strand did not break, the metal did not melt.  Instead, her saber fizzled and died, and Adubell smiled.

"What is that made of?"

Adubell turned to find Dahlia Winton standing at the entrance of the forge, watching her. It was a surprise - she hadn't heard her, or felt her coming, and it reminded Adubell that as Dahlia grew stronger, she would have to be more cautious, or she would end up dead far too soon.

"It is an ore known as cortosis.  Do you know of the substance?"
Dahlia nodded.  A few weeks ago, she would be dumbfounded, but her time among the sith holocrons had given her much knowledge.

"It is a metallic ore that has certain conductive properties that effectively short out a lightsaber upon contact with the blade"

"Correct"

"What are you doing with it?"

"I am preparing to give the jedi a surprise.  A series of surprises actually."

Adubell waved around her saber for a few seconds, tapping the switch until the blade finally reignited.  She then deactivated it and again turned to Dahlia.

"But that is not why I called you here.  Come, I want to show you something"
"What?"
Dahlia sounded impatient, not appreciating the secrecy, or being pulled from more valuable tasks.

"COME, and you will see, Apprentice"

Adubell stressed the word, reminding Dahlia that until Adubell was dead, Dahlia was still subservient to her.  She moved through the forge, passed a series of fires that shot upward at seemingly random intervals, to a large furnace in the rear of the chamber.

"It is here, Apprentice, that you will begin crafting your weapon.  The jedi spend years searching for the perfect crystals - the sith create the crystals themselves.  If you miscalculate, your weapon will fail you, or it will destroy you.  But if you succeed, you will be able to craft the perfect weapon, one that will serve you, be an extension of you, and aid you in destroying your enemies"

"Unless those enemies have cortosis, of course"

Dahlia's face was even, despite her sarcasm.  Perhaps seeing Adubell working with the metal had been a mistake to allow - or perhaps it was a good warning, a cautionary tale.  Only time would tell for certain whether Adubell, or Dahlia would benefit or suffer.

Adubell, for her part, returned Dahlia's cold expression with a dark smile.

"All weapons have weaknesses, apprentice.  Your goal is to minimize your own.  Familiarize yourself with the Forge, and how it works, and you will find creating your weapon far more successful"

The Sith walked past Dahlia, leaving her there as she stepped out of the forge, getting a slight chill from the drastic change in temperature, but proceeding through the cavern to another room. This room, unlike the forge, was locked, and Adubell pressed a series of keys before it granted her entrance.  The room was large, filled with a variety of mechanical objects, and illuminated by a series of florescent lighting scattered about the room.

In the center of the room, a huge tank, filled with a yellowish-transluscent liquid, took up most of their vision.  And inside, what could only be described as a metallic skeleton.  There was a metal skull, with a human-shaped spinal cord, ribs, and other bones, all made of metal rather than bone.

Adubell smiled as she stared at the skeleton, floating in the center.  Until recently, it was believed the technology developed by Medivh and Alexander Winton was lost when both died.  But recent events revealed that the biological enzyme allowing their work to continue still existed - in the bloodline of the Gellars.  Rutherford, and now Dane.

Adubell moved to where a small vile, filled with the red lifeforce of the youngest Gellar sat plugged into one of the many machines, then she turned her head upward, to where a series of monitors were active, across the room.  On one,  a DNA strand, floating in a spiraling shape, yellow dots flashing across the double helixes at a rapid rate.  The other, scrolling data, interpreted from the DNA, filling the screen.

One day soon, Adubell would have what Medivh had.  What Alex had had - immortality
TBC