Dark Jedi by D525

The lower depths of Coruscant were perpetually dark and dangerous, and it seemed that every surface thru this section of what was known as The Works was covered with a layer of industrial strength grime and grease. The artificial light only slightly reached to these lower levels, coloring everything a strange bruised purple, haunting the stale air like a ghost that was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

The silence was deafening.

The alley was coated with slime and grease and Force only knew what else, and walking became a skill of balance and strength as we trudged along with heavy feet, slowly, our route gradually taking us past one seemingly abandoned doorway after another.

"If I may," Mapache said to the black mud, his head down watching his feet slip and slide. "Where's your girl? The dancer you are always with?"

I walked side by side with the Weequay, his friend trailing directly behind me, shadowing my every move. I shook my head no.

"No girl? Nothing? Only Coruscant for the cause, mister name? Dedication to the kill, huh," Mapache said sarcastically, glancing over at me once.

"If I was going to kill you, I would have done it already." I smiled back at him.

"No, the kill I mention is you. You're suicidal, boyo. It's funny."

"How's that," I huffed. His blank eyes caught the faint light, glossing them over purple for a moment.

He made a turn at an unmarked and open doorway, changing our course towards it. "It's like I know your thoughts. Meeting you is always a measure, and violent is your real connection, what makes you. You want to kill some Jedi, and well, oh boy then. Ventress knows it too. It's why she likes you."

My mind flipped thru his strange words, reflecting on the fact that it was true. The hatred for the Jedi had always been there, and it had grown within me exponentially during the 15 months the War had raged on. And now here I was, in the depths of Coruscanti hell acting upon that hatred. As I stood at that doorway, it represented a portal of some sort or a rite of passage. I thought to myself, you enter that doorway, and there will be no turning back.

I heard him laugh as he stopped at the threshold, watching me. "Trust, mister name. I've been around your kind many times, and trust is your baddest enemy. Causes you pain to trust. It'll work. You got no idea the stuff Ventress knows, like that kind of knowledge. You know what it's worth?"

"Don't care what it's worth," I said angrily as I entered the door, scraping the souls of my boots in an attempt to rid them of the layer of slimey gunk. That only smeared the goop everywhere.

Inside I was met by two silvery, heavily armored Super Battle Droids. The small room was durasteel constructed and empty, and the only light emanated from a red emergency light situated at the base of a stairwell along the back wall. The two droids ignored us.

Mapache strolled to the base of the stairs. "So then, do what you feel. Wouldn't have it any other way, boyo. And while you're at it, you try to figure something out."

"What's that?"

"Why she's meeting with a nobody like you in the first place." He turned and started up the stairs, his partner silently waiting for me to take the steps.

The upper reaches were shrouded in darkness, but as we ascended and my eyes began to adjust a small figure emerged slightly from the depths, standing above us at the top step, quietly watching our approach. As we neared, the figure gradually became more feminine, with narrow shoulders and thin arms and curved hips. She was slim and athletic with pale Rattatakian skin and a shaven head, and she wore a black shimmering bodysuit. She stood, hands on hips, waiting.

"Love you, Ventress, queen bee pretty one," Mapache breathed at her. The faint red glow only served to highlight the wrinkles and creases of his leathery face.

"The mainline is a go, yes?" she snapped at him. She sounded arrogant. "So, this is the wonderboy which has cutter written all over him, huh. Looks like an addict to me, as they say, like a burnt out stim user."

"He's CSF. Wears the uniform in their ranks. He's okay."

"Skip it," she said. "Time for revenge now. This kind of strike is too subtle for the clones, and everything is positioned perfectly."

"To hear is to obey," Mapache replied. And he and his friend turned and went back downstairs toward the red light.

Asajj Ventress stared wickedly at me. "So tell me what you know, cutter boy."

I threw the datachip at her. She caught it gracefully in her left hand, her grey eyes never leaving me. When she moved I noticed the metallic glint of two lightsabers that hung from her belt.

"There is your confirmation," I said coldly. "They are both here, on Coruscant. They passed thru the planetary net early this morning and were confirmed by traffic control to have landed at the Jedi Temple. It's all there."

She adopted a rather annoyed expression. "Yes, I know they are here. The information alone matters not. It is not why you are here. We're going to be pulling one hardcore cut, isolate them and we're in business. So where you stand on fighting Jedi, sweet cutter? 'Cause that's what this is all about today. This is your audition."

I glared at her. "You're going to hit them? Both of them?"

She laughed. "You got it wonderboy. Both of them dead. That's the plan."

The Separatists, I'd decided, were some version of high-end idealists, wealthy individuals with a taste for either a phenomenal purpose or some violent statement. From what I could tell, the purpose of folks like Count Dooku appeared to fall on the more noble end of the spectrum, whereas folks like the banking clan had a purpose more along the financial. It was style that mattered, and Asajj's style had a very personal air about it, and of very deadly intent. I recognized it immediately. For the exact purpose she acted I couldn't be sure, but it clearly wasn't fame or fortune or political power. It was her anger that was personal to her. She wanted Obi-wan Kenobi and Quinlan Voss dead in a very bad way. That I did understand.

For me, this deal had the best of both worlds. It had fortune, and it had vengeance.

"There is the small matter of payment first. I delivered you the confirmation that you required, so I've held up my end. Now it's your turn," I gestured to the datachip.

"Routing number?" she asked.

"It's on there."

She calmly removed a comlink from her belt, and inserted the datachip into a slot. Pushing a button, she stared back at me. "It is done. The transfer has been made. You are now a very rich man."

Done? Not by a long shot. The Jedi had let our home world suffer with lawlessness and destruction for too long, while they sat in their temple. The warlords killed and killed and killed, while not a finger was ever lifted by the Jedi Order. They fought for peace and justice in the galaxy? That was the biggest lie told upon us, and Asajj Ventress knew it. And I knew it.

I had left our home of Rattataka in search of this chance. I was just an ordinary man, just another ugly duckling of the Outer Rim to the Jedi, but now I had a very extraordinary opportunity. I was standing before Ventress, the hero of our homeworld, and I was pledging myself to help her in her quest for justice against the hypocrisy of the Jedi Order. The Jedi only protected those that were of interest to them, while the rest of the galaxy suffered and died without the slightest concern. This was my most glorious moment.

There was just one small formality to attend to first.

I gave her a fake look of distress. "Now then, let's discuss my payment for joining in the hunt for Voss and Kenobi. Shall we?"

She smiled wickedly. "Name your price. Money is of no concern to me."