Chapter 40: Let Me Solo Them

The hum of The Sleepy Cosby's engines blends with the eerie whispers of Korriban's shifting sands, a lullaby for the damned. I'm strapped into the cockpit, leaning back as I feel the ship glide through the atmosphere, ancient metal groaning in protest.

"Vex," Sola's voice cuts through the static of my thoughts, her tone is all business, "We're almost on top of them."

A bunch of kids playing hide and seek with destiny. I smirk, picturing their terrified faces. They don't realize you can't just quit the Sith like it's some dead-end job at a diner. The Dark Side doesn't hand out pink slips. It deals death sentences.

"Running away from their future, huh?" I muse aloud, flicking switches on the control panel almost absentmindedly. My gaze drifts to the viewport, watching the rocky expanse of Korriban stretch out beneath us.

"Doesn't seem like a long future now." Sola quips back, and I can hear the smile in her voice. She's standing behind me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off her.

"Shame, really. Some might've had potential." My fingers dance over the controls, the familiar motions grounding me.

"Potential means nothing if they lack the will to harness it," she says with a sigh that's too elegant to be frustrated.

"True," I admit, feeling the weight of her gaze on the back of my neck. "Prepare for landing," I announce.

"Finally, some action," Sola comments, a hint of excitement lacing her words. She's a Corde through and through, poised and ready for whatever the galaxy throws at her.

As the ship touches down, I can feel the anticipation building inside me. A twisted sense of pleasure at the thought of the hunt, the power, the control.

'Why do I feel like god when I kill. The power to take life away from someone is so intoxicating.'

"Let's get to business," My fingers curled tightly around the hilt of my lightsaber, feeling its familiar coolness against my palm. It was time to remind these kids why you don't turn your back on the Sith.

The ramp descended with a metallic clang. Stepping out, we were greeted by the sight of twenty students, their faces etched with fear and uncertainty. They clutched training sabers, their grips white-knuckled and unsure, while a few brandished real lightsabers with the awkwardness of infants taking their first steps.

'Oh, this is like shooting babies in a barrel.'

I smirked beneath my helmet, the ease of the impending slaughter sending a thrill down my spine. These pitiful beings thought they could evade the inevitable.

"Look at them," I whispered, more to myself than to Sola. "Scared little acolytes playing at rebellion."

"Pathetic, isn't it?" she replied, her tone laced with disdain.

I couldn't help it. A chuckle bubbled up from my chest as I eyed the trembling group before us. It was like looking at a pack of loth-cats that had somehow convinced themselves they were nexu. "Tragic," I murmured, the joy in my voice echoing off the barren landscape.

And then an Idea from earth struck me like Miquella the kind's smile. "Hey, Honey, dearest. Let me solo them?" I asked, tilting my head ever so slightly towards Sola, seeking a challenge in her gaze.

With the sigh of a housewife watching her husband dive into another weekend project he'd undoubtedly abandon by sundown, she replied, "Yes, yes, good luck, sweety. Just please keep your shirt on this time." Her words dripped with indulgent sarcasm.

"Thanks, darling," I said, the corner of my lip quirking upward beneath the second skin. I relished the idea, the simplicity of it all. No grandstanding. Just me and my handy dandy saber.

The moment stretched, a thin wire ready to snap. I ignited my saber with a hiss that cut through the stillness of Korriban's air, crimson light painting the faces of the trembling acolytes before me. They were statues of fear, carved from desperation and naiveté.

"Oh, maker, he's gonna use the saber and lightning on us!." One of the obstinate little worms yelled.

"Force lightning?" I scoffed my voice loud in the quiet. "Hardly worth the effort."

With a grace that contradicted the violence of my intentions, I lunged forward. Their training sabers came at me in a flurry of panic-stricken swings, each one as predictable as the cycle of day and night on this forsaken rock. I parried effortlessly, my blade arcing through the spaces between us, severing limbs and aspirations alike.

Each movement was a symphony written in the key of chaos. I was both the conductor and the lead instrument, playing a requiem for their misguided dreams. I danced through them, the embodiment of death's elegance.

"Are you rushing, or are you dragging?" I screamed at one of them. 

His eyes lit up in fear as my incredibly well timed movie reference completely blew over his head. "I don't know what that means!" He screamed back.

"Guess you haven't seen that one?" I laughed as his head went flying off his body.

'It's always beheaded but never de-bodied? Why is that?' I ponder in the midst of this beautiful catharsis.

I could feel Sola's eyes on me, her presence a heat at my back.

"Bravo!" Her cheer cut across the battlefield, laced with dark amusement. It was like a perverse form of encouragement, spurring me to greater heights of butchery.

"The more she cheers me on, the stronger I become lads." I laughed as I taunted them more and more. This was that Grand Theft Auto like freedom that should probably never exist. But once you get a taste for blood I dont think you can move on.

'Not literally, though Mom and Sola both said I shouldn't indulge in that kind of intrusive thought. Even if it would be funny to see my enemies freak out if I drank their blood on the battlefield.'

With a sudden burst of athletic fervor, I flipped over a pair of would-be Sith who thought they could flank me. My saber was an extension of my will, an instrument that sang a song of destruction and painted the ground with the essence of those who dare oppose me.

"Look at you go!" Sola's voice was rich with delight. The way she said it, you'd think we were at some holodrama premiere, not knee-deep in these unceremoniously snuffed-out lives.

I landed in a growing puddle of blood, the color of our order, the color of power. And yet, here it was spilled so cheaply by those who thought they could escape their destiny.

The sickening smell of fear cuts through the carnage. Glancing over, I spot a cluster of trembling acolytes. Their faces are ashen, eyes wide with horror that mirrors the grotesque scene before them. One wretches and begins vomiting, his stomach rebelling against the sight of his comrades reduced to mere parts and pieces. A jigsaw puzzle of discarded arms, legs, hands, and weirdly, a couple jaws.

'Can't just be a one-trick pony after all.'

The Vomiter and his buddies start dashing in the opposite direction as soon as he gets a handle on his stomach. "Running?" I mutter, almost to myself, as they turn on unsteady legs, trying to flee. But there's no sanctuary on Korriban for cowards.

I feel a surge of disdain, my grip tightening around the hilts of my saber. I sigh and grab my other lightsaber. The one I usually only use as Vex Eras. Sure, I could use the force to stop them, but I gave myself a goal here. With a flick of my wrist, my second lightsaber ignites and spirals away from me, a crimson comet homing in on its prey.

A satisfying thud signals the end of the acolytes sprint as they're split in half screaming. I retrieve my wandering blade like Thor. The hum of its energy is a comforting purr in my palm.

"Deplorable," I growl, scanning the field for any left standing. Then, like a whisper beneath the chorus of the dead, I hear it. A muffled cry. I stalk towards the sound, boots kicking aside debris of flesh and bone.

There, under a tangle of limbs, a quivering shape betrays itself. A young man probably thought he was clever for playing dead. His eyes meet my visor, and there's nothing but raw terror staring back. He scrambles, clawing desperately at the dirt, futilely seeking some crevice in the world where I cannot reach.

"Please!" he chokes out, but I have no patience for pleas.

"No." I state calmly. My saber descends an executioner's grace to his frantic thrashing. I slashed him 12 times before taking his life.

'I just wanted him to feel physically bad for hiding under the dead. That's gross.'

"Is that all of them?" Sola's voice slices through the stillness, pulling me back to the moment. I look down at the ruin at my feet, a grim testament to treachery's reward.

"Every last one," I assure her, the weight of victory embraces me.

*****

I step into the dimly lit confines of the Sleepy Cosby. Blood drips from my gauntlets to the grated floor, a ghoulish metronome keeping time with my heavy breathing.

"Welcome back," Sola's voice, laced with mischief, greets me as I ascend the ramp. She stands there, arms crossed and helmet off. A tempest in her own right, framed by the flickering lights of the console. "You've made quite the mess, Vex. Do you realize how hard it's going to be to get all that blood out of your robes?"

'Does she do my laundry? I thought she was rich?'

I laugh. "I'm not worried about the laundry," I retort, stripping off my sopping gloves and letting them thud against the deck.

Her laughter rings out, a sharp contrast to the screams still ringing in my ears, "Oh, I'm sure you're not." She struts over, the click of her boots a familiar rhythm, and envelops me in her embrace despite the gore that paints me head to toe.

"Let's just get home," she murmurs, "We can take a long shower together... wash away the day."

A smirk tugs at my lips beneath my mask. I nod, feeling the weight lift ever so slightly at the prospect. "That sounds perfect."

"Oh, by the way, Vex, did you meet our new council member? My dad made me take her on." Sola added with a smile. "I haven't had a chance to talk with her yet."

"Yeah she's really cool." I respond to Sola with ease, excited to tell her all about how Rana and I both like space 4chan.

Sola's eyes became soulless as she looked at me. "What the fuck did you just say?"