He was off-duty. For only a few minutes, there was a sense of relief, of relaxation. As the moons shone in the night sky of Coruscant, he breathed a sigh as he marched himself towards the barracks of the Temple Guards. The identities of the Guards were a closely-guarded secret, to keep them as detached from the workings of the Order as possible, allowing them to remain fair and unbiased. But now his vigil was over, and it was time to rest. For only a few minutes, there was a sense of relief. Of relaxation.
And then the impossible sound echoed through the halls of the Temple. Blaster fire. He paused for a moment, listening. A second shot, and a third, and a forth. No, wait. Only two shots. And two ricochets, off the magnetically reinforced plasma blades of a lightsaber. A hand flew to his belt, ripping the folded hilt from where it hung at his belt. With a rotary flick he unfolded it, into a bar that reached around two feet in length. As he spun on his heel, the robes he wore flowing about him, the ends of the weapon ignited in blazing golden light, the telltale SCHWEENG tearing through the silence of the hallway as he raced towards the sounds.
The next hour... would change his life, forever.
She was exhausted. Exhausted and frustrated, but mostly exhausted. Ashla ran toward the temple, breath heaving out about as quickly as she tried to gulp in fresh air, trying to find some cover from the blasters behind her. The Republic had ways of finding anyone it wanted to, especially when that person was a threat: Ashla was in that group. The red haired Padawan reached a column, using her body to stop herself from running too far ahead and slamming against it. She grunted, but kept her balance as she slipped her back against the cool surface, trying to catch her breath in that moment.
It was silent, a stark contrast to what she’d been dealing with moments ago. And she wished that it would remain that way. Unfortunately, troopers were going to ruin that. The noise of their boots to the ground so near caused her to steady herself, even out her breathing, and focus. Her saber at the ready still, Ashla turned on her heel and met the troopers head on. Six of them from what she could see so far. The two blasters were met with a flick of her wrist, sending the lasers back at them before she clenched her jaw and moved back forward, pressing on and swishing the saber to deflect any shots that came her way.
She was young, but she was well trained. Whomever her master was had taken their time to drill the finer points Shii-Cho into her. It didn’t matter. Soon they would all be dead. His eyes peering through a deep, dark hood, he marched through the cluster of firing Clones as he set his eyes on her.
“PADAWAN!” He knew her to be by the braid in her hair. A hand, clad in a thick black gauntlet and clutching a lightsaber, slid from the shadows of the robe’s billowed sleeve, and a blade of blue plasma ripped out from the emitter. Anakin Skywalker, by now, was a legend among the Order. An unpredictable, but effective Jedi General, and one of the finest duelists seen in the Temple in centuries. But he wasn’t Anakin Skywalker, anymore. No, Anakin Skywalker was weak. Anakin Skywalker couldn’t protect anybody, not the ones that mattered most to him. No, no, no. Only Darth Vader could do that. And he would wear the title proudly, prepared to sacrifice as many Jedi bodies as he could to his new master...
The word hit her hard, her breath leaving her body as a blaster laser she deflected hit a trooper. It wasn’t the word itself that sucked the breath from her mouth – it was the one who yelled it. She hadn’t been scared before this moment, fighting with these troopers. But now, the looming figure that ate at the back of her mind was there, in front of her, in the flesh. The pit of her stomach rolled just as Ashla spun her body from the path of another laser, kneeling to deflect one more and hitting it’s intended target. Lord Vader.
A lump in her throat began to grow, but Ashla did her best to keep her expression hard, centered as she moved back up to stand. The troopers had all stopped now that Vader was taking his saber out. That got the red head’s heart pumping hard in her chest as she readjusted the grip on hers. She wasn’t prepared for this! At least, that’s what she thought. She had been taught well and she was a quick learner... however, the woman had inner struggles that pulled her left and right. Hoping for a balance in that moment, Ashla took a stance, rolled her shoulders, and kept her saber in front of her.
“Vader.” She whispered, but he could no doubt hear her – she’d gotten the silence she’d wished for moments ago.
“Oh, good. I was starting to think word hadn’t got around.” Fallen from the Light he may have been, but he’d hardly lost that trademark snark. The robe, hood and all, dropped from his shoulders and fell to the floor. Seven Jedi had fallen to his blade, already. This Padawan was simply... in the way. They all were. The Light held nothing of the power he needed, it was The Dark Side that could show him the way to accomplish his goals. And to assure himself that he was steeped deeply enough within it, he was ready to sacrifice innocence- his, and... others’.
“Form I. Really? You don’t know anything more advanced than that?” Of course, Masters like Kit Fisto had managed to be great duelists by honing a supreme focus on Form I, but it was rare for anybody to choose it, solely. Anakin was known as rather... gifted in Form V, Shien, and if the need called for it, also Jar’Kai Dual-Wielding. His very public duel with Bariss Offee after the Temple Bombing just a year or two back had displayed his skills to many pairs of eyes. And now, this gifted duelist, this master of the Force, the rumored “Chosen One” had set hateful, hungry eyes on Ashla.
Anakin never waited, he always struck first. And this was no different. He charged forward in a burst of Force-assisted speed, blade outward, coming down at her in a vertical strike.
“It hasn’t failed me.” She retorted at his snark to her form, gripping her saber tighter. She was surprised he had much to say to her; she suspected he’d get right to it. But, here he was, giving her a little banter before he killed her. Stop it, Ashla. You’re not going to die. The Force is with you. Her mother’s voice rang in her head, trying to quell the surging doubt that made the hairs on the back of Ashla’s neck stand on end. He was skilled, but he was Dark. That had to count for something.
Just as Ashla got herself right, he charged and she audibly gasped, saber moving upward to catch the strike aimed for her. She grunted loudly, his strength baring her down to a knee, but Ashla wasn’t going to let him win. The heat from the blades colliding hit her face and neck, but that just fueled her fire. She pushed back, using her leg that she’d knelt on to propel her forward and shove Vader’s saber from her (or try to) and, once she did that or was standing, she’d use one leg to kick out, aiming for a knee to try and disable him for at least a moment to regain herself.
“Oh-ho-ho...” Came the chuckle as she sent his attack back in his direction. He easily dodged her kick, whirling around and palm stretching out. Though his hand made no physical contact, an invisible... something struck her from hip to shoulder with enough force to send her flying back several feet.
“Not bad, not bad. You’re not built for strength. No, you’re more agile. Lithe and flexible. You should move more like a dancer.” He smirked, arrogantly striding forward. “Dance, girl. Dance for me while I kill you.” The pure, unadulterated wrath in his voice was like cold fire in the air, and he charged again, the tip of his blade dragging a molten scar through the ground before he swung the saber across to slash at her.
Ashla grunted, hitting a column hard when she was thrown from Vader. Her opposite shoulder, ribs, and hip hit the column and she fell to the ground, gulping in a lungful of air. Her saber had deactivated from the hit, but she hadn’t quite realized that just yet as she remained on her hands and knees, her free hand holding her side. Had she cracked a rib? Quick possible – the force was strong with him.
He kept talking, but Ashla wasn’t listening; she was focused on willing the pain she’d felt from her mind in order to keep going. And then... she sucked in a breath, held it, and opened her eyes when he mentioned ‘kill’. Death. No. Ashla pulled herself upward and in a quick movement activated her saber and caught his attack just in time. She let out a cry, it was hard to tell whether it was relief, pain or fright, as she fought to remain in control, teeth grinding together.
“No!” It slipped out before she had time to catch the word; she saw it as weakness, but she hadn’t been trained that well just yet, to keep her emotions in check. Her back was against the column and she used it to her advantage, pushing forward as far as she could to try and stand back up without giving too much, causing Vader’s saber to split her upward right through the middle. Maybe she could use his weight against him, what he was putting behind that saber. She would spin, her elbow aiming to clock him in the face while she got out of the way, causing his saber to slash the column.
She caught him by surprise. This is what he got for playing with her. He quickly caught her by the arm, his prosthetic hand beneath the dark gauntlet squeezing it near to breaking, and he flung her back against the column. A growl escaped his lips, and his hand lay outstretched. She would feel a tight, clenching grip on her throat, feel her feet dangle as she began to raise from the ground, he back sliding against the column.
“I no longer... have time... for this.” He seethed through clenched teeth, eyes burning with hate. He was a Sith now. He was because he had to be. And a Sith had to be feared to be effective. And to be feared, he couldn’t take simple, easily defended strikes to his face. His hand visible squeezed tighter, as the Force would mimic his movement. He wouldn’t just strangle her, he’d crush her throat like it was made of paper.
“How... dare... y--” The hiss of his voice was interrupted by a solid OOF, and he flew aside as if struck by a great fist, his grip on the Force, and on her life, The Guard’s palm was outstretched, the double-bladed weapon in his off-hand burning brightly as the masked face turned slightly towards Ashla. “Run!” Came the synthesized voice, mechanical and crackling. Was... was that... Skywalker? Anakin Skywalker was a legend in the Temple by now, his duel with the traitor Offee witnessed by many. Including him, who had been there to help apprehend the former padawan of Master Luminara after her defeat at Skywalker’s hands. He was, quite frankly, the best swordsman he’d ever seen, save maybe for Masters Windu and Yoda.
“Master Skywalker... what are--” The robotic voice was cut off as pure, blunt Force struck him, sending him flying into the wall next to the doorway he’d just crossed through. He felt a rib crack beneath the layers of robe, skin, and muscle, pained even further as he fell back to the ground. His weapon clattered away from him. Sparks flew from his helmet, and he reached up quickly to tear it from his head, the hood falling to reveal light brown hair, shaggy and matted by sweat, and grey-blue eyes peering forward at the now oncoming Jedi Knight- no, no. No longer a Jedi. That was clear. The Force rolled off Skywalker in waves, so potent that Caden Rein couuld taste the Dark Side in his mouth. Or perhaps that was simply the blood. No, clearly he had fallen. He was no longer Jedi. He was something else.
“Skywalker... please...” Caden forced himself to his feet, arm clutching his side. The dark-clad Force User said nothing in response. His blade ignited anew, and he rushed forward with a primal growl. Caden’s hand outstretched, and the long, leather-wrapped hilt slid across the floor before flying to his open palm, and one of the blades ignited quickly, swinging to meet the blue plasma of Skywalker’s weapon in a flash of white light. Caden relentlessly defended against the power and fury of Anakin’s Shien Onslaught, powerful blows raining down on the golden blade of Caden’s Guard Pike. It was everything he could do to defend each strike, leaving no time nor strength to lash out with his own attack. He had no hope of beating Skywalker head on.
“Skyw-” CLASH! “Skywal-” CLASH! “Skywalker, please!” Tiring, Caden missed a block, and the blue plasma cut a slash through his upper arm, cauterizing it immediately. He cried out momentarily, but then The Force gripped his throat as it had Ashla’s, lifting him up and carrying him towards the Fallen Jedi, until their faces were mere inches away.
“That’s. Not. My. NAME!” He roared, then flung Caden hard into a wall.
Ashla let out another yell, this one definitely from pain as her arm was caught by his hand, the unnatural strength almost snapping the fragile bones. She didn’t beg, however, for him to stop – begging was weak. She wouldn’t. The only noise she’d offer is her gasping breath as the pain forced her eyes to squeeze shut. But, as soon as she did that, she was flung backward and her back slammed against the column, head snapping back and bouncing off the hard surface.
She saw stars and tried to blink them away, but she soon had bigger problems. She couldn’t breathe. Ashla’s mouth opened wide to try and pull in air, but she was propelled upward and her saber clattered to the ground. She grew weak, but her eyes remained locked on Vader; she struggled, however she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of her suffering. So Ashla tried to tap into the force herself, trying to do something to get him to let her go. But she was too weak and choked for breath. She wasn’t focusing. The stars remained in her vision as it clouded. And then she fell to the floor, gasping and her body crumpling into a ball. Her breathing was ragged and the blood was rushing from her ears, she barely heard ‘RUN’.
Ashla glanced up then, eyes refocusing on the battle at hand. Who was that? She couldn’t hardly see, but he had helped. Skywalker. She made a noise, but her throat wasn’t allowing much to get past as the fighting ensued. She had to stay. She had to help. Ashla forced herself to stand, a pain ripping through her side and head. She almost doubled over, but kept her feet planted as she raised a shaky hand, and her blade flew up to her fingers.
“Vader!” This might be stupid, but she was trying to distract him. Skywalker wasn’t his name? Then she’d use the one name that she knew he preferred - the name he knew struck fear into those around him. Her voice was strained, but she used what strength she could to yell. And then she slipped into Form I, her eyes half lidded and grip tightening on her bright saber. Round 2?
Slowly, the man who was once called Anakin Skywalker turned, rage-filled eyes bearing down on the girl, bionic hand wringing so tightly on the lightsaber he gripped that it audibly creaked under the stress, the blue-blade giving a slight flicker for only a moment. He didn’t speak, but a growl that sounded like a rabid beast escaped through grit teeth. Caden manage to raise himself to his knees, picking up his weapon again.
“No... run...” He huffed, struggling to push himself to his feet. “Get out of h--” Without even turning to look at him, Vader flung a hand, and Caden was knocked off his feet, again.
“Stop talking. Stop breathing.” He growled, taking slow, stalking steps towards the Padawan. “Stop! LIVING!” He roared, blade raised. And then, suddenly, he, too, was knocked to his back. The ceiling rumbled above him, and if she looked, she’d see Caden, though on his back, with his hands outstretched to the roof of the Temple.
“GET OUT OF HERE!” He screamed to her, and his open hands clasped shut suddenly. The ceiling cracked, fractured, and began to fall, piece by piece. With a roar, Vader pushed himself to his knees, his hands flying upward, using the Force to catch the rubble that threatened to crush his body. Caden struggled to stand, stumbling towards the hallway, where he knew of a hidden exit.
She was very shaky, but regaining herself the more time passed. But, it wasn’t much; the flickering blade made her heart jump into her throat, but she remained steadfast, catching her breath. She wasn’t paying much attention to what the temple guard had to say, she was focused on the shell of what was one of the greatest Jedi known.
“Come on... come on...” She was muttering to herself, trying to give the other a chance to run as he kept telling her to. She was quick, she could get away! He needed to go! Ashla was about to charge forward, almost take a page from the Sith’s book to strike first, but the rumbling stopped her from moving forward. She looked up, and then to Caden. He was doing this. As Vader was distracted, Ashla ran then – moving to Caden to see if he needed help. They were both in bad shape, but she was pushing through it. Meditation came in handy, pushing past the pain.
Her arm throbbed, her rib no doubt was bruised or cracked, and her head was on fire... but she still reached for Caden, helping to pull him where he was heading.
Caden grabbed onto her, using her as a support.
“The Hallway. Come on.” He urged her, directing her down the corridor which led to the access hatch for the ventilation. “Down. In here.” He kicked the hatch in and knelt down, crawling inside. “C’mon, c’mon!” He urged her to go faster. The avalanche of debris had no hope of killing Vader, he was simply too powerful. They only had a few more moments before he, or even maybe more of those Clones, came upon them. And in their current state, he wasn’t sure he could take on a handful of trained soldiers with Republic-issued blaster rifles, even with the red-headed Padawan to help him.
Assuming she followed him in, he quickly scrambled to replace the hatch grate, breathing a heavy sigh before turning to crawl down the long tunnel until they came to a metal-paneled hallway.
“Service Droids use these corridors to do maintenance around the Temple. If we take the next left and keep going straight, it should take us out. Then we need to find a ship. We need to get off Coruscant.” He breathed heavily, glancing back over his shoulder at her before turning to look forward.
He didn’t say anything after that. The trip down the corridor was a long, quiet one. There wasn’t much to say. Not much that needed saying. Everything was different now. Even through the thick walls, the sounds of blasters and screams echoed softly through the ventilation. Through the Force, they could feel all the death around them. By the end of the night, they’d be an endangered species, these lone Jedi on the run.
They’d be Outlaws...
And then the impossible sound echoed through the halls of the Temple. Blaster fire. He paused for a moment, listening. A second shot, and a third, and a forth. No, wait. Only two shots. And two ricochets, off the magnetically reinforced plasma blades of a lightsaber. A hand flew to his belt, ripping the folded hilt from where it hung at his belt. With a rotary flick he unfolded it, into a bar that reached around two feet in length. As he spun on his heel, the robes he wore flowing about him, the ends of the weapon ignited in blazing golden light, the telltale SCHWEENG tearing through the silence of the hallway as he raced towards the sounds.
The next hour... would change his life, forever.
She was exhausted. Exhausted and frustrated, but mostly exhausted. Ashla ran toward the temple, breath heaving out about as quickly as she tried to gulp in fresh air, trying to find some cover from the blasters behind her. The Republic had ways of finding anyone it wanted to, especially when that person was a threat: Ashla was in that group. The red haired Padawan reached a column, using her body to stop herself from running too far ahead and slamming against it. She grunted, but kept her balance as she slipped her back against the cool surface, trying to catch her breath in that moment.
It was silent, a stark contrast to what she’d been dealing with moments ago. And she wished that it would remain that way. Unfortunately, troopers were going to ruin that. The noise of their boots to the ground so near caused her to steady herself, even out her breathing, and focus. Her saber at the ready still, Ashla turned on her heel and met the troopers head on. Six of them from what she could see so far. The two blasters were met with a flick of her wrist, sending the lasers back at them before she clenched her jaw and moved back forward, pressing on and swishing the saber to deflect any shots that came her way.
She was young, but she was well trained. Whomever her master was had taken their time to drill the finer points Shii-Cho into her. It didn’t matter. Soon they would all be dead. His eyes peering through a deep, dark hood, he marched through the cluster of firing Clones as he set his eyes on her.
“PADAWAN!” He knew her to be by the braid in her hair. A hand, clad in a thick black gauntlet and clutching a lightsaber, slid from the shadows of the robe’s billowed sleeve, and a blade of blue plasma ripped out from the emitter. Anakin Skywalker, by now, was a legend among the Order. An unpredictable, but effective Jedi General, and one of the finest duelists seen in the Temple in centuries. But he wasn’t Anakin Skywalker, anymore. No, Anakin Skywalker was weak. Anakin Skywalker couldn’t protect anybody, not the ones that mattered most to him. No, no, no. Only Darth Vader could do that. And he would wear the title proudly, prepared to sacrifice as many Jedi bodies as he could to his new master...
The word hit her hard, her breath leaving her body as a blaster laser she deflected hit a trooper. It wasn’t the word itself that sucked the breath from her mouth – it was the one who yelled it. She hadn’t been scared before this moment, fighting with these troopers. But now, the looming figure that ate at the back of her mind was there, in front of her, in the flesh. The pit of her stomach rolled just as Ashla spun her body from the path of another laser, kneeling to deflect one more and hitting it’s intended target. Lord Vader.
A lump in her throat began to grow, but Ashla did her best to keep her expression hard, centered as she moved back up to stand. The troopers had all stopped now that Vader was taking his saber out. That got the red head’s heart pumping hard in her chest as she readjusted the grip on hers. She wasn’t prepared for this! At least, that’s what she thought. She had been taught well and she was a quick learner... however, the woman had inner struggles that pulled her left and right. Hoping for a balance in that moment, Ashla took a stance, rolled her shoulders, and kept her saber in front of her.
“Vader.” She whispered, but he could no doubt hear her – she’d gotten the silence she’d wished for moments ago.
“Oh, good. I was starting to think word hadn’t got around.” Fallen from the Light he may have been, but he’d hardly lost that trademark snark. The robe, hood and all, dropped from his shoulders and fell to the floor. Seven Jedi had fallen to his blade, already. This Padawan was simply... in the way. They all were. The Light held nothing of the power he needed, it was The Dark Side that could show him the way to accomplish his goals. And to assure himself that he was steeped deeply enough within it, he was ready to sacrifice innocence- his, and... others’.
“Form I. Really? You don’t know anything more advanced than that?” Of course, Masters like Kit Fisto had managed to be great duelists by honing a supreme focus on Form I, but it was rare for anybody to choose it, solely. Anakin was known as rather... gifted in Form V, Shien, and if the need called for it, also Jar’Kai Dual-Wielding. His very public duel with Bariss Offee after the Temple Bombing just a year or two back had displayed his skills to many pairs of eyes. And now, this gifted duelist, this master of the Force, the rumored “Chosen One” had set hateful, hungry eyes on Ashla.
Anakin never waited, he always struck first. And this was no different. He charged forward in a burst of Force-assisted speed, blade outward, coming down at her in a vertical strike.
“It hasn’t failed me.” She retorted at his snark to her form, gripping her saber tighter. She was surprised he had much to say to her; she suspected he’d get right to it. But, here he was, giving her a little banter before he killed her. Stop it, Ashla. You’re not going to die. The Force is with you. Her mother’s voice rang in her head, trying to quell the surging doubt that made the hairs on the back of Ashla’s neck stand on end. He was skilled, but he was Dark. That had to count for something.
Just as Ashla got herself right, he charged and she audibly gasped, saber moving upward to catch the strike aimed for her. She grunted loudly, his strength baring her down to a knee, but Ashla wasn’t going to let him win. The heat from the blades colliding hit her face and neck, but that just fueled her fire. She pushed back, using her leg that she’d knelt on to propel her forward and shove Vader’s saber from her (or try to) and, once she did that or was standing, she’d use one leg to kick out, aiming for a knee to try and disable him for at least a moment to regain herself.
“Oh-ho-ho...” Came the chuckle as she sent his attack back in his direction. He easily dodged her kick, whirling around and palm stretching out. Though his hand made no physical contact, an invisible... something struck her from hip to shoulder with enough force to send her flying back several feet.
“Not bad, not bad. You’re not built for strength. No, you’re more agile. Lithe and flexible. You should move more like a dancer.” He smirked, arrogantly striding forward. “Dance, girl. Dance for me while I kill you.” The pure, unadulterated wrath in his voice was like cold fire in the air, and he charged again, the tip of his blade dragging a molten scar through the ground before he swung the saber across to slash at her.
Ashla grunted, hitting a column hard when she was thrown from Vader. Her opposite shoulder, ribs, and hip hit the column and she fell to the ground, gulping in a lungful of air. Her saber had deactivated from the hit, but she hadn’t quite realized that just yet as she remained on her hands and knees, her free hand holding her side. Had she cracked a rib? Quick possible – the force was strong with him.
He kept talking, but Ashla wasn’t listening; she was focused on willing the pain she’d felt from her mind in order to keep going. And then... she sucked in a breath, held it, and opened her eyes when he mentioned ‘kill’. Death. No. Ashla pulled herself upward and in a quick movement activated her saber and caught his attack just in time. She let out a cry, it was hard to tell whether it was relief, pain or fright, as she fought to remain in control, teeth grinding together.
“No!” It slipped out before she had time to catch the word; she saw it as weakness, but she hadn’t been trained that well just yet, to keep her emotions in check. Her back was against the column and she used it to her advantage, pushing forward as far as she could to try and stand back up without giving too much, causing Vader’s saber to split her upward right through the middle. Maybe she could use his weight against him, what he was putting behind that saber. She would spin, her elbow aiming to clock him in the face while she got out of the way, causing his saber to slash the column.
She caught him by surprise. This is what he got for playing with her. He quickly caught her by the arm, his prosthetic hand beneath the dark gauntlet squeezing it near to breaking, and he flung her back against the column. A growl escaped his lips, and his hand lay outstretched. She would feel a tight, clenching grip on her throat, feel her feet dangle as she began to raise from the ground, he back sliding against the column.
“I no longer... have time... for this.” He seethed through clenched teeth, eyes burning with hate. He was a Sith now. He was because he had to be. And a Sith had to be feared to be effective. And to be feared, he couldn’t take simple, easily defended strikes to his face. His hand visible squeezed tighter, as the Force would mimic his movement. He wouldn’t just strangle her, he’d crush her throat like it was made of paper.
“How... dare... y--” The hiss of his voice was interrupted by a solid OOF, and he flew aside as if struck by a great fist, his grip on the Force, and on her life, The Guard’s palm was outstretched, the double-bladed weapon in his off-hand burning brightly as the masked face turned slightly towards Ashla. “Run!” Came the synthesized voice, mechanical and crackling. Was... was that... Skywalker? Anakin Skywalker was a legend in the Temple by now, his duel with the traitor Offee witnessed by many. Including him, who had been there to help apprehend the former padawan of Master Luminara after her defeat at Skywalker’s hands. He was, quite frankly, the best swordsman he’d ever seen, save maybe for Masters Windu and Yoda.
“Master Skywalker... what are--” The robotic voice was cut off as pure, blunt Force struck him, sending him flying into the wall next to the doorway he’d just crossed through. He felt a rib crack beneath the layers of robe, skin, and muscle, pained even further as he fell back to the ground. His weapon clattered away from him. Sparks flew from his helmet, and he reached up quickly to tear it from his head, the hood falling to reveal light brown hair, shaggy and matted by sweat, and grey-blue eyes peering forward at the now oncoming Jedi Knight- no, no. No longer a Jedi. That was clear. The Force rolled off Skywalker in waves, so potent that Caden Rein couuld taste the Dark Side in his mouth. Or perhaps that was simply the blood. No, clearly he had fallen. He was no longer Jedi. He was something else.
“Skywalker... please...” Caden forced himself to his feet, arm clutching his side. The dark-clad Force User said nothing in response. His blade ignited anew, and he rushed forward with a primal growl. Caden’s hand outstretched, and the long, leather-wrapped hilt slid across the floor before flying to his open palm, and one of the blades ignited quickly, swinging to meet the blue plasma of Skywalker’s weapon in a flash of white light. Caden relentlessly defended against the power and fury of Anakin’s Shien Onslaught, powerful blows raining down on the golden blade of Caden’s Guard Pike. It was everything he could do to defend each strike, leaving no time nor strength to lash out with his own attack. He had no hope of beating Skywalker head on.
“Skyw-” CLASH! “Skywal-” CLASH! “Skywalker, please!” Tiring, Caden missed a block, and the blue plasma cut a slash through his upper arm, cauterizing it immediately. He cried out momentarily, but then The Force gripped his throat as it had Ashla’s, lifting him up and carrying him towards the Fallen Jedi, until their faces were mere inches away.
“That’s. Not. My. NAME!” He roared, then flung Caden hard into a wall.
Ashla let out another yell, this one definitely from pain as her arm was caught by his hand, the unnatural strength almost snapping the fragile bones. She didn’t beg, however, for him to stop – begging was weak. She wouldn’t. The only noise she’d offer is her gasping breath as the pain forced her eyes to squeeze shut. But, as soon as she did that, she was flung backward and her back slammed against the column, head snapping back and bouncing off the hard surface.
She saw stars and tried to blink them away, but she soon had bigger problems. She couldn’t breathe. Ashla’s mouth opened wide to try and pull in air, but she was propelled upward and her saber clattered to the ground. She grew weak, but her eyes remained locked on Vader; she struggled, however she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of her suffering. So Ashla tried to tap into the force herself, trying to do something to get him to let her go. But she was too weak and choked for breath. She wasn’t focusing. The stars remained in her vision as it clouded. And then she fell to the floor, gasping and her body crumpling into a ball. Her breathing was ragged and the blood was rushing from her ears, she barely heard ‘RUN’.
Ashla glanced up then, eyes refocusing on the battle at hand. Who was that? She couldn’t hardly see, but he had helped. Skywalker. She made a noise, but her throat wasn’t allowing much to get past as the fighting ensued. She had to stay. She had to help. Ashla forced herself to stand, a pain ripping through her side and head. She almost doubled over, but kept her feet planted as she raised a shaky hand, and her blade flew up to her fingers.
“Vader!” This might be stupid, but she was trying to distract him. Skywalker wasn’t his name? Then she’d use the one name that she knew he preferred - the name he knew struck fear into those around him. Her voice was strained, but she used what strength she could to yell. And then she slipped into Form I, her eyes half lidded and grip tightening on her bright saber. Round 2?
Slowly, the man who was once called Anakin Skywalker turned, rage-filled eyes bearing down on the girl, bionic hand wringing so tightly on the lightsaber he gripped that it audibly creaked under the stress, the blue-blade giving a slight flicker for only a moment. He didn’t speak, but a growl that sounded like a rabid beast escaped through grit teeth. Caden manage to raise himself to his knees, picking up his weapon again.
“No... run...” He huffed, struggling to push himself to his feet. “Get out of h--” Without even turning to look at him, Vader flung a hand, and Caden was knocked off his feet, again.
“Stop talking. Stop breathing.” He growled, taking slow, stalking steps towards the Padawan. “Stop! LIVING!” He roared, blade raised. And then, suddenly, he, too, was knocked to his back. The ceiling rumbled above him, and if she looked, she’d see Caden, though on his back, with his hands outstretched to the roof of the Temple.
“GET OUT OF HERE!” He screamed to her, and his open hands clasped shut suddenly. The ceiling cracked, fractured, and began to fall, piece by piece. With a roar, Vader pushed himself to his knees, his hands flying upward, using the Force to catch the rubble that threatened to crush his body. Caden struggled to stand, stumbling towards the hallway, where he knew of a hidden exit.
She was very shaky, but regaining herself the more time passed. But, it wasn’t much; the flickering blade made her heart jump into her throat, but she remained steadfast, catching her breath. She wasn’t paying much attention to what the temple guard had to say, she was focused on the shell of what was one of the greatest Jedi known.
“Come on... come on...” She was muttering to herself, trying to give the other a chance to run as he kept telling her to. She was quick, she could get away! He needed to go! Ashla was about to charge forward, almost take a page from the Sith’s book to strike first, but the rumbling stopped her from moving forward. She looked up, and then to Caden. He was doing this. As Vader was distracted, Ashla ran then – moving to Caden to see if he needed help. They were both in bad shape, but she was pushing through it. Meditation came in handy, pushing past the pain.
Her arm throbbed, her rib no doubt was bruised or cracked, and her head was on fire... but she still reached for Caden, helping to pull him where he was heading.
Caden grabbed onto her, using her as a support.
“The Hallway. Come on.” He urged her, directing her down the corridor which led to the access hatch for the ventilation. “Down. In here.” He kicked the hatch in and knelt down, crawling inside. “C’mon, c’mon!” He urged her to go faster. The avalanche of debris had no hope of killing Vader, he was simply too powerful. They only had a few more moments before he, or even maybe more of those Clones, came upon them. And in their current state, he wasn’t sure he could take on a handful of trained soldiers with Republic-issued blaster rifles, even with the red-headed Padawan to help him.
Assuming she followed him in, he quickly scrambled to replace the hatch grate, breathing a heavy sigh before turning to crawl down the long tunnel until they came to a metal-paneled hallway.
“Service Droids use these corridors to do maintenance around the Temple. If we take the next left and keep going straight, it should take us out. Then we need to find a ship. We need to get off Coruscant.” He breathed heavily, glancing back over his shoulder at her before turning to look forward.
He didn’t say anything after that. The trip down the corridor was a long, quiet one. There wasn’t much to say. Not much that needed saying. Everything was different now. Even through the thick walls, the sounds of blasters and screams echoed softly through the ventilation. Through the Force, they could feel all the death around them. By the end of the night, they’d be an endangered species, these lone Jedi on the run.
They’d be Outlaws...
