A/N: Either this is gonna go great, or go horrible. Lets hope for the former. A bit gore ahead so flash warning. wanted to update yesterday but had an assignment to do.
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She poured everything she had left into the blade pressed against his helmet. The Force screamed through her ruined body, her heart slamming arrhythmic beats against her ribs as power flooded muscle and bone and will.
For one desperate second, she felt the give. Felt the plasma bite deeper. Smelled melting composite.
Got you—
Then something snapped.
Her Force Barrier.
It shattered like glass.
And then she wasn't on the ground anymore.
The alley tilted. Neon streaked across her vision in wild smears of pink and green. Her stomach lurched as her boots left stone and the world spun backward, too fast to process.
What—
The impact answered before her brain could finish the question.
CLANG.
Her body smashed into the metal siding with a sound like a gong struck by a hammer. The breath punched out of her lungs in a wet, choking gasp that tasted of copper. Pain detonated across her ribs, her spine, her skull. Something inside her chest gave way with a sickening crack.
Maybe more than one thing.
Her saber slipped free.
Three fingers gone meant there was nothing left to grip it with.
The weapon tumbled through the air, spinning once, twice, before it clattered across the alley stones and skidded to a stop meters away.
Too far.
Way too far.
She stayed upright through sheer spite, boots scrabbling for purchase on slick stone, shoulder grinding against metal as her legs threatened to buckle. Her chest wouldn't expand. Every attempt to breathe came shallow and broken, air rasping like it was being dragged through water.
L-lung… rib…which…?
Her vision blurred at the edges, the poison clawing its way deeper into her veins and wrapping cold fingers around her thoughts. The world swayed. Her knees wobbled.
No. No no no—
She jammed the heel of her good hand into the cauterized wound on her waist.
White-hot agony spiked through her gut.
"Aghhhh—!"
The scream tore out of her, raw and ragged, but it worked. Her vision sharpened. The fog pulled back just enough.
She forced her head up, blinking through tears and blood, searching for him through the haze.
Please be dead. Please—
The hope died before it even finished forming.
Red light carved through the smoke, the glow of his saber illuminating the scene in harsh, unforgiving clarity.
He stood three meters away, shoulders squared, posture steady.
The helmet was wrecked. A deep, ugly groove split the side where her blade had bitten in, the casing half-melted and smoking. Internal components sparked and died in stuttering fits, wiring exposed like raw nerve endings.
But there was no blood.
No flesh. No blood. Nothing.
He stumbled. Once. A single half-step to the side, like he'd tripped over uneven ground.
That was it.
That… that's all I did…?
Her stomach twisted, bile rising in her throat as the reality settled over her like a shroud.
I gave everything. Everything. And I just... rattled him.
She coughed and thick spotty blood spattered onto her chin. Every breath felt like something sharp was poking into her lungs from the inside, scraping with each shallow inhale.
Her hand twitched, muscle memory reaching for the familiar weight of her saber.
Empty air.
She looked down at her ruined hand, at the stumps where her fingers used to be, then across the alley to where the weapon lay gleaming in the neon glow.
Pull it. Just pull it. You've done it a thousand times—
She reached for the Force.
Pain lanced through her skull like a spike driven into her temple. Her vision whited out. Her body screamed in protest, exhaustion crashing over her in a wave so heavy she nearly collapsed on the spot.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck—
She shoved the thought of defeat down deep, clawing for something, anything usable.
I'm Reva fucking Sanders. I don't go down like this.
Her mind scrambled for logic, for tactics, for a way out.
Sensors. Displays. He has to be blind on that side. Has to be—
Her ears rang, a high-pitched whine drowning out everything except the wet rasp of her own breathing. The world sounded distant, muffled, like she was submerged underwater.
And then his voice cut through it.
"Oh."
Laughter threaded through the word, distorted and echoing through the broken helmet.
"You bitch. You almost killed me. Nearly fucking killed me."
The words settled over her like a balm she didn't deserve.
A-At least it… wasn't in vain…
He straightened slowly, rolling his neck once. The damaged side of his helmet sparked again, then went dark.
And then she felt it.
It came around her such as if it was always there.
The air around him felt wrong, thick and oily and suffocating.
Dark Side? Is this it? No...It feels different...
It bled into the alley like smoke pouring from a cracked seal, but it wasn't… it didn't feel right. It felt alien. Foreign. Every bit of her existence wanted nothing but to get far away from whatever it was.
Her hatred flared hotter, fueled by the wrongness of it, by the fact that this bastard was standing there wreathed in power while she bled out on filthy stone.
"That was good," he added, voice still laced with that awful amusement. "I would've been fucking pissed if that was your limit."
Her knees threatened to fold.
She locked them through habit, training, fear.
He lifted one hand.
Her lightsaber jerked.
No—
It tore across the stone and flew into his palm.
He caught it without effort, turning the hilt over like he was examining produce at a market stall. Blood slicked the grip.
Her blood.
He tilted his head, studying it.
"You tuned the emitter yourself," he said, voice clinical. "I can tell. Uneven power bleed. Cheap focusing ring. You compensate by overfeeding the crystal."
He ignited it.
The blade sputtered for half a heartbeat before stabilizing into its familiar crimson glow.
"Works," he continued. "Just barely. Kind of like you."
His fist closed around the hilt.
The casing crumpled like wet parchment, components compressing and folding inward with a sound that made her teeth ache. Then black smoke poured from between his fingers, oily and wrong, dissolving the crushed remains into nothing.
W-what... the fuck...?
For one impossible second, she saw it—the kyber crystal, her crystal, floating in his palm with red light pulsing once. Then it turned black and shattered, dust scattering across his gauntlet.
Her stomach lurched. Her brain refused to process what she'd just seen. Kyber crystals didn't dissolve. They didn't turn black and crumble like ash. They were eternal, unbreakable, the heart of every—
He turned his own lightsaber off and clipped it back to his belt. Just put it away.
Wait, what is he doing!?
Silence rushed back in, broken only by the wet rasp of her breathing and the distant hum of traffic overhead.
"You lost fingers," he said, tone flat and almost bored. "I don't enjoy bullying disabled bitches."
He raised both fists, knuckles cracking in sequence like breaking branches.
"Come on."
Terror spiked cold through her chest.
Terror spiked through her chest. She tried to step back but found only wall, even as her legs wobbled, her vision swam, and the poison dragged at her thoughts, making everything slow and thick and wrong...
She forced words past her broken teeth, stammering and desperate.
"E-even if... even if you k-kill me... ISB will know. They'll... they'll find you. Y-you can't erase the evidence. Can't erase the t-traces. You can't just... vanish an Inquisitor and expect the Empire to—"
Her voice cracked.
The confidence she tried to inject into the threat evaporated before it even left her mouth.
Her voice cracked. The confidence she tried to inject into the threat evaporated before it even left her mouth. Because she knew that he knew too much to be scared by such paltry threat...but that was all she had left.
She hadn't expected an answer yet he stopped walking after hearing that.
Looked at her through that featureless, scarred helmet with the same dead, emotionless gaze.
It unsettled her more than the threats had.
"You know what gives me pleasure?" he said, voice soft. Almost conversational. "Knowing there are fewer psychos with red blades sniffing around Force-sensitive children. Sniffing around me. That's all I care about."
You're the bigger psycho, she wanted to scream. You crushed a lightsaber with your bare fucking hands and you're lecturing me about—
She bit it back.
Forced herself to speak instead, clinging to the only lifeline she had left.
"W-why... why are you doing this?" Her words came wet and slurred. "Obi-Wan... that traitorous Jedi isn't worth anything to a... a dark sider like you."
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he spoke, and the words weren't what she expected at all.
"The more I think about it, the more I see you... the angrier I feel. I thought I had control over that anger, but that may have been the wrong belief."
The air turned colder.
She regretted asking.
He took a step forward.
Then another.
"You see, someone close to me was taken away. By your Empire, no less." His voice dropped, quiet and venomous. "I will not live in a world like that. I will not allow a world like that to exist. Be it the Empire, Hutts, Sith, I don't care. The whole galaxy can go to hell."
He was three meters away.
Two.
One.
"I'll burn it all fucking down. Starting with you."
He vanished.
Her danger sense didn't even twitch.
Then something metallic crashed into her jaw.
Her head whipped sideways. Stars burst across her vision. Blood filled her mouth, hot and metallic, teeth rattling loose in her gums.
She tried to scream.
A fist drove into her ribs and air exploded from her lungs. She doubled over, gagging, and his knee came up to meet her face.
Cartilage shattered.
She flew backward, boots skidding, arms flailing uselessly. She hit the wall, bounced off, stumbled forward.
His boot caught her in the stomach.
She folded around it, bile and blood spraying from her lips as she collapsed to her knees.
Hands, fists, elbows, boots came from everywhere—merciless, mechanical, each impact deliberate and devastating. She couldn't block, couldn't dodge, couldn't even see where the next strike came from.
Her broken hand instinctively reached for the Force.
Pain detonated in her skull.
A gauntleted fist smashed into her temple and her vision whited out. She tasted copper and something sharper, something wrong.
She tried to crawl.
His boot slammed down on her spine and pinned her flat against the filthy stone.
"P-plea—"
The word died as his fist drove into the back of her skull, mashing her face into the ground. Her nose broke again, flattened against stone, blood pooling beneath her cheek.
He grabbed her by the hair and hauled her upright.
She dangled there, boots scraping uselessly, vision swimming in and out of focus.
Then he slammed his helmet into her face.
Scarred, ruined metal with its jagged protrusions bit into her skin. Her nose caved inward. Her cheekbone cracked. Blood poured into her eyes, hot and blinding.
He did it again. And again. And again.
She stopped trying to scream. Her throat was too raw. Her lungs too empty.
When he released her, she couldn't but crumple yet wasn't allowed to.
His hand closed around her neck, lifted her effortlessly, and then she was airborne.
For one weightless moment she saw the alley spin past, neon lights blurring into streaks of color.
Then her back slammed into the wall.
Everything went black for a moment.
She slid down, leaving a smear of red on the metal siding, and crumpled into a heap at the base.
A-Am I dead..?
She tried to move her arm but felt nothing.
Tried to open her mouth but blood bubbled out instead of words.
I'm going to die ?… in this filthy alley? … alone…
And for the first time since the Temple burned, Reva Sanders felt truly, utterly afraid.
Her jaw tightened. Fingers curled weakly against the stone.
N-No...I-I must survive. No matter w-what it takes.
She forced her breathing slow and shallow, each inhale scraping her ribs like broken glass. The effort took focus she barely had left. Her saber was gone. The Force felt far away, wrapped in layers of damp pressure, as if she were reaching through soaked cloth with hands that barely obeyed.
A shadow crossed her.
She squinted up through one working eye, teeth clenched, body bracing for the next blow.
Instead, metal struck stone. It was a hollow clatter followed by a roll.
Confusion cut through the pain as her gaze slid toward the sound, slowly.
The helmet lay on its side near the refuse pile, sparks crawling weakly across its ruined faceplate. The blank visor stared up at nothing.
Her breath caught halfway in.
Cold dread bloomed in her gut as she looked back up.
He stood over her without the helmet.
Reva's lungs locked.
The face beneath the armor was young.
Too young.
Smooth, unfinished, with the faint roundness of youth clinging stubbornly to his cheeks beneath the hard set of his jaw. No scars. No weathering. No years carved into bone or skin.
A boy.
A literal boy...no older than 12.
Her mind skidded, refused to settle on it. The image slid away every time she tried to grab it.
A thin, broken sound dragged itself out of her throat. It might have been a laugh. It might have been a sob.
"K...kid," she slurred, the words thick and wet. Blood bubbled at the corner of her mouth. "Fu...fuckin'... kid."
He stepped closer, boots crunching on grit and broken glass.
"What," he said flatly. "Were you expecting Master Yoda in disguise?"
She didn't answer. Just stared at him with that dazed, uncomprehending look people got when reality stopped matching expectations.
He stopped a couple meters out.
She saw him actually look at her then, like he was seeing her for the first time. His eyes tracked across her body, cataloging damage with clinical detachment.
Wide open, some distant part of her brain noted. He's wide open. Attack. Move. Do something—
But her body wouldn't listen. The poison had sunk too deep, turned her limbs to lead and her thoughts to syrup.
"That had been a nice attack," he said, more to fill the silence than anything. "The last one, I mean. Would've really taken me out."
She looked at him.
For a moment, anger tried to flare. The urge to spit venom and tell him to go fuck himself rose in her throat.
But there wasn't any energy left.
Her jaw worked. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Then the words came out, quiet and broken.
"...please."
He said nothing.
The silence stretched. The distant hum of traffic felt like it was coming from another world entirely.
"M'not... not with them," she choked out, words slurring at the edges. "Us...used them. Work— worked to... get close. T'reach... him."
Her hands were shaking in her lap. One of them was missing fingers. The stumps hurt less than they should. Everything hurt less than it should. The numbness was spreading.
"C'n help," she continued, desperation leaking into every syllable. "Routes. Codes. Fort...Fortress lay... Who watch— shift. Know how... how they..."
Her gaze dropped for a second, then snapped back up to his face
"I'll..." Her voice cracked. "...give m'self. I'll—submit. Obey. Do whatever you want."
Her breath hitched, shallow and uneven.
"Orders. Chains. Kill me later if you want. Jus'—" she swallowed hard, eyes glassy and unfocused, "—jus' let me stand. Walk. Breathe. Gone. I won't run. Won't fight. Swear. I swear."
The words spilled out ugly and desperate, tripping over each other as if she was afraid silence might kill her faster than the poison.
They hung in the damp air between them.
Shame crawled hot beneath her skin, hotter than the venom burning through her veins. She'd said it. She'd actually said it. Offered herself up—will, body, name, everything she had left—like a thing to be owned, commanded, discarded when convenient.
But pride was a luxury for people who weren't dying.
He crouched down until they were eye-level.
For a moment, something flickered across his face. Was it pity? It should have angered her for anyone to even dare pity her but she didn't had any energy left in her for that.
After a few moments, he asked quietly,
"What about them?"
She blinked, confused. "Wh... wha...?"
"The ones you dragged off worlds. The sensitive children taken to the Fortress. The minds you peeled apart until they would do anything. The families who died because you cut witnesses."
His voice was soft, very different from moments before when he was brutalizing her. He paused, blue eyes holding hers.
"Are they less dead than your friends in the Temple?"
Her mouth opened. Closed. She swallowed, and the motion felt like dragging razors down her throat.
"Was... necess..." she whispered. The conviction was gone, even she could feel it. It felt like echoes now, hollow and empty. "F'r plan. Stay... place. Keep... cover. No... clean..."
She was shaking her head slowly, a broken, repetitive motion.
"Justice," he said.
The word felt heavy. Final.
A flicker of hope lit in her chest. Stupid, fragile, desperate hope.
He understands. He gets it. He's going to—
"Please," she breathed. "Please. Deal. C'n... help. Give... ev'rything. I'll—"
"Do not worry about Vader," he cut her off, voice softer than before.
Her eyes widened slightly. The hope grew, blooming like a flower in her chest despite everything.
Yes. Yes. Please—
He reached out slowly. His fingers brushed against her cheek.
The skin was cold. Unfamiliar. But the touch was gentle.
She leaned into it slightly, like a starving animal offered scraps of kindness.
"I will make sure he gets what is due," he continued. "There will be no forgiveness this time. Not for him. Not for anyone like him."
Relief tried to surface, weak and trembling.
Is he letting me go? He's—
"But for you," he said.
His eyes met hers, and she saw something shift in them. The blue trembled, and something black moved behind it like a stormfront crawling across a clear sky.
"Try to do better in the next life, Reva Sanders."
Her blood froze solid.
Before her mind could even form a question around it, metal fingers closed around her throat. There was no ceremony. He squeezed.
The air vanished and sound collapsed into a roaring rush. Her hands flew to his gauntlet without strength, nails scraping uselessly as she tried to wedge fingers between the plates. Nothing gave. Her legs kicked once, then slid weakly against the stone.
Darkness crept inward.
She thought of the dormitory bunks. Jax's snoring. Mira's awful singing. The little ones wobbling with training sabers, desperate to copy the older kids.
I'm sorry, she thought, something tearing loose inside her. I'm sorry I failed you.
Vader's mask loomed in her mind.
I hope you rot. I hope something worse than me finds you.
Another thought followed, late and poisonous—that she had become the same thing. That every child she had delivered had been another Jax. Another Mira.
Her fingers slipped from his wrist.
Darkness swallowed her.
For a moment, she thought she saw them again, standing in light, calling her name.
J-Jax… Mira… Arno…
Relief brushed her, thin and fragile.
Then something wrapped around her. Not just her body—inside her. Around her organs, her lungs, her heart, her spine, her eyes. Wet rope, alive, slippery and clinging, pressing inward everywhere at once. The pressure was wrong in a way pain was not. Repulsive. Intimate.
Dying would have been easier.
She tried to scream, but there was no air to give it shape. The light pulled farther away. The figures dissolved.
N-no… don't… don't go… t-take me…
Something felt wrong beyond the fight or the poison crawling through her veins—a fundamental wrongness in the air itself. Worse than the burn was the numbness following it. Sensation was stolen mid-scream.
Panic tore through what little awareness she had left.
She tried to force her eyes open. She needed to see, just once, to know what had taken her. Even if death was her destination...
Her vision cleared for a heartbeat.
And she saw...I̸̖̜̤̔̾̊̍̚͝t̴̢͈̺̰̀͒̈́͘͝
Every remaining shard of her reason recoiled.
She tried to say a word, but her tongue pressed against teeth that were not there. She tried to scream, yet couldn't scream, for there was no mouth left to scream with.
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A/N: Don't forget to vote, its a great motivation to have!
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