Private One of Us is the Killer

[Zaavik Perl]

CORUSCANT // APARTMENTS
Less than an hour later...

「The Sun Won't Come Up」
​

The news had yet to break. It would only be a matter of time before Bastra's face was plastered across the tabloids, and the security footage flooding the holofeeds. It didn't matter how confident or meticulous he was, to say he wasn't nervous would've been a monumental deception. All that was important now was getting back home. Raising no alarms. Leaving no trace. Thankfully that had been just his forte, trained for it since before he could even read.

A ventilation cover over the main room of his apartment jostled and slid out of place. The sound of the ceiling material groaning echoed through the apartment. Zaavik would flicker into visibility, hanging from the egress of the ventilation shaft with one hand, robes still adorning and obscuring nearly his every feature. The opposite hand reached up to reset the cover before dropping and letting it fall into place.

A small flicker of pent up aggression showed when he erratically forced the robe off, discarding the bundled fabrics with a hard toss onto his couch. Disfigured epidermal murals displayed on the vermillion canvas of his arms and shoulders, black tanktop hiding the continuation of their macabre spectacle. A deep breath. Then another. Hands rand flat against his hair, pushing it all back to make way for the next sputter deep breath.

Whispering vague Zeltronian expletives, Zaavik took a moment to get ahold of himself.

Something panged at his extrasensory awareness.

A presence. Behind. Kitchen.

He swung around, calling Aradia's saber to his hand with the force. The crimson blade shot out with eager malice. His heart dropped. Adrenaline coursed. Tense posture eased almost instantly when he saw Ryv's face staring back at him. "Fuck me," he groaned as he retracted the blade and sighed with relief. More self-uttered Zeltronian curses followed. "Couldn't have warned me?"

Ryv ​

 

[Ryv]

CORUSCANT // APARTMENTS
Less than an hour later...

​

A faint flicker caught Ryv's attention as he moved about the home. He looked up, brow perked as he listened for the faint sounds of movement. When nothing came, he nodded his head, thoroughly impressed by the Padawan's expertise. He continued through the kitchen, a singular goal in mind as he set the plate atop the counter and reached for the nearby loaf of bread. One at a time, he pulled two slices from within and set them on the plate. He snagged a blunted butter knife from a drawer at his waist. Roving hands then went to work in the cupboards, searching carefully for his impromptu meal's proper spread. By the time Zaavik's feet made contact with his apartment floor, Ryv found the hazelnut goodness he yearned to enjoy.

He dipped the knife within and scooped out a clump of the chocolatey spread in a well-practiced flick of his wrist. The knife soon found its way to the first slice of bread as he went to work coating the soft, flaky substance. Before he knew it, the room was alight in a crimson glow as Zaavik's borrowed saber snap-hissed to life a few feet from the kiffar.

Ryv met the zeltron's blue-eyed gaze with a perked brow.

"Hard to warn you I'm coming when you don't answer your phone, huh?" Ryv dug his gloved hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. He flicked it open and set it down for Zaavik to see. A cursory glance would reveal three outgoing calls to the zeltron. "I'm surprised, to be honest. You don't normally skip game night, but uh, I guess something kept you busy."

He finished spreading the chocolate-hazelnut on one slice and turned his attention to the other. "You want something while I'm up? I can fix you a sandwich or something if you're hungry."

The Jedi Knight set the butter knife down and slapped the two slices of bread together with a cheerful hum. He pushed the plate across the counter to an empty seat and pivoted to the fridge behind him. As his gloved hand grasped the handle, he looked back at Zaavik. No words were spoken as Ryv opened the fridge and allowed its iridescent white light to flood out and over the pair. He looked in, decided on a can of Galactic Splash, and shut the door behind him. Drink in hand, he cracked open the soda and took a sip.

"So, Z, buddy old pal, what's going on? You look and feel like you've been up to something tonight. Care to let your old buddy Ryv in on the secret?" the kiffar remained standing as he posed his questions. Apparently, the offer to put together a meal for his overeager companion wasn't a joke.

Zaavik Perl ​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

CORUSCANT // APARTMENTS

​

Ryv's presence had been initially defusing, to the point that it took a moment for Zaavik to process the corner he was in. Most astoundingly was that he didn't say anything about his unusual entrance, let alone the bright red illumination of the saber he'd drawn. His heart sank again once it had all sunk in. As soon as Ryv faced the fridge, Zaavik rolled the saber hilt behind his forearm, flicking it behind his back and using the force to accelerate the motion onto the couch, causing the discarded robes to fall over it.

Out of sight, out of mind.

"No, I'm not hungry. Thanks." It was hard to have an appetite after that. He slid past, catching the fridge door to weasel out a can of AvCola. Recently banned in Galatic Alliance space, but he had a stash of which the purchase had preceded the legislature. Zaavik strode around to the opposite end of the counter island and leaned in with both elbows. His hips swayed back and forth with a subtle, restless in-place marching. A leisurely claw grip at the top of the square can saw it dangle loosely, only tightening when his middle finger curled in to bend the tab. Hiss, then crack.

"Yeah, I just uh-" Playing for time, the can came to his lips. "I had some errands to take care of. Must've left my phone here." The keys to his bike and apartment were still lying somewhere in his bedroom. Out of sight, out of mind. Another drink. Silence. A very loud silence. "So, how'd tonight go? Same ol'?" Subversion. Game night catchup was a good topic. Better than complaining about how cold WeatherNet always made it as Lifeday approached. Talking about the weather wouldn't be nearly as subtle.

Ryv ​

 

[Ryv]

CORUSCANT // APARTMENTS

​

"Suit yourself."

Ryv shrugged and moved around the counter to take a seat. He set the can down beside his plate, lifted the sandwich, and took a bite. The sweet, sweet chocolate and hazelnut flavor exploded into his mouth, overwhelming his senses with the strictly superior flavor to a normal chocolate spread. With a nod, more to himself, honestly, he set it down and wiped away at a bit of loose nautella with his thumb. He sucked it off his finger as he studied the lightless apartment. Nothing stuck out beyond the mess of robes Zaavik discarded a moment earlier, but that was expected. The bare minimum for the zeltron's position included the ability to not appear incriminating. Bar the crimson saber, of course.

"Errands, huh?" he took another bite, only to swallow it as Zaavik finished speaking. "Yeah, tonight was alright. Auteme showed up and wiped the fucking floor with our sorry butts. Though, that was mostly the word games. She didn't do so hot when we brought out the more, uh... nuanced, games."

The kiffar took another sip of his mountain dew galactic splash and continued. "The session was pretty fun, though. I was surprised when she busted out a marauder instead of a healer for her guest appearance. Maynard almost died doing some dumb shit. Not sure how many times we have to break the curse between him and that Sith Sword, but it came in handy. Trapped the soul of an undead Krayt Dragon. Earned us a pearl the size of my goddamn head. Top value, big creds."

He finished the rest of his sandwich, scarfing it down with a complete lack of etiquette. Lazily, he lifted it with the Force and watched as it drifted through the air towards the trash bin. When the plate hung over the bin, he cut his concentration. It fell within as he turned back to Zaavik.

"You know, Z, I am an empath. Ignoring the fact you haven't been able to sit still or that you're given super vague answers, I can feel how distraught you are, man," Ryv lounged against the counter, chin propped up by his palm. "Normally, I don't like to do the whole, press for info thing. I trust you guys to talk to me if anything I should know comes up, but uh... I passed by a former-Senators place tonight on my way home and, well, a lot of marshals out front. Apparently, a Sith was sighted at Bastra's place... killing him this evening. I thought that was odd, did a bit of investigating inside, saw something familiar, and double-timed it over here."

Unsure of how to continue, he paused for another sip of his drink. "I beat you here by a couple minutes. Saw your bike was parked in the garage, so I can only assume you were out on foot tonight. I don't want to push, but I do need to know what happened."

He looked Zaavik in the eye at that.

"Did you kill him, Z?"

Zaavik Perl | Maynard Treicolt ​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

CORUSCANT // APARTMENTS

​

Just like that, huh?

Zaavik stared back, matching eye-contact with glittering cerulean which peeked behind the narrowing of heavy vermillion eyelids. Nostrils flared, lips twitched, a slow, sharp inhale flooded through the nose into the lungs. A glance away toward the countertop heralded by another drink from the can.

His eyes unfocused, something assaulted the middle distance between them. A minuscule crevasse, like a crack in a windowpane. His eyes followed the length of it back towards Ryv. A shattered web of lines intersecting a meandering like a shattered windshield obscured his view of the prying expression in front of him. Eyelids blinked, trying to readjust, but it was no error in his perception. Peeking between the obscurity, he looked back to Ryv.

Could he not see this too?

Every line felt like it meant something. Zaavik didn't know how or why he knew. It just was, Himself. Bastra. Ryv. Zeltros. Every choice. Every event. Every fault together became one in the center; this moment. What was this thing? Why didn't Ryv see it? Zaavik was starting to sweat ever-so-slightly. Was this some kind of trick? Was he going insane? All he could do was stare, tracing every fault with his pupils.

"Z? Answer me."

Was there any use in trying to hide it now? Another cracked formed as soon as he came to terms with it, and just like that, the invisible pane between them was gone. It took only a split second for him to snap out of his initial surprise at the indescribable thing he'd witnessed. Zaavik took a step back, turned, and moved back into the main room through the doorless threshold. He wasn't running, any empath would have felt his internal concession.

When he returned, he placed a phone onto the counter island. It wasn't his, a dated and blocky device that looked more the fit of one Ido Bastra. It was all in there. The messages, the call logs, the cartels, the underhanded deals, Zeltros, all of it. Zaavik was too ashamed to speak. Too afraid. With a flick of his fingers, he slid it across the surface of the counter toward Ryv on the other end.

Elbows returned to the counter. His hands clasped together to support his head, tilted to the side and averted from Ryv. It was all there. He didn't have anything to say. He didn't deserve to say anything.

Ryv ​

 

[Ryv]

CORUSCANT // APARTMENTS

​

Patiently, Ryv waited. He said nothing as Zaavik's internal struggle took place before him. He watched the Zeltron with intense interest. The Jedi Knight's aura pushed beyond himself, the sense of calm he felt allowed to blend at the edges of his friend's turbulent presence. To feel the emotion in such a way offered insight he probably couldn't gain through just speaking to others. Every twitch of his friend's body was accompanied by a momentary spike on the emotional spectrum. It was a whirlwind to work through, but the kiffar found it easier to pick through the chaos as he grew within the Force. Someone like Zaavik once would've overwhelmed Ryv entirely. Nowadays, the Sword didn't hesitate.

The thin layer of sweat that slowly glossed over Zaavik's body was the turning point. Ryv stepped closer, his hand extended towards the Padawan. A gloved hand passed through the same space the invisible screen shattered. Be it coincidence or fate, the kiffar couldn't know. Whatever the zeltron saw didn't exist before his amber gaze. All Ryv cared about was closing the distance between them. Unfortunately, Zaavik had something else in mind entirely.

He turned away and moved deeper into the apartment. Ryv paused, crossed his arms, and returned to the counter for his inevitable return. The likelihood his fellow Jedi would flee was near-zero. And that was before Ryv factored in the shame he felt exuded from Zaavik. It drove his every step from the moment he left the kiffar to the moment he returned.

When the phone hit the counter and slid towards him, Ryv snatched it up and turned it over in his hand. The blocky device surprised him. Someone like Bastra had enough money to buy the latest and greatest technology. This beater had to be well over five years old.

"Man had all the money in the world, and he opted for this, huh?" he peered over at Zaavik and sighed. "Z, it's okay, dude. I dunno what happened, but I've got your back."

Ryv reached over gently placed a hand on the zeltron's shoulder. He expected his friend to pull away or knock his hand aside. Everything about his demeanor reminded the kiffar of his own trauma. Unsure of how to better approach the situation, he squeezed the skinnier man's shoulder, planted his elbows on the counter, and lazily leaned forward. His free hand tapped the screen to activate it. When prompted for a password, Ryv sighed and withdrew his hand from Zaavik's shoulder. He slipped the glove from his fingers, took hold of the device in his bare hand, and reached out with his cybernetic limb. Another cautious touch was delivered. Ryv hoped whatever he felt could wash away the tumultuous emotions that raged within his friend.

As his fingers brushed against the phone, his eyes momentarily glazed over. Flashes of the device's memory appeared within his mind. He witnessed the old, wrinkled hand of Ido input the four-digit code.

"Noice," Ryv chuckled and input the same passcode. He immediately went to work when the security faded away. His fingers flicked furiously across the screen, allowing him full access to the less-than-legal affairs of the late politician. A mixture of emotions assaulted the Jedi Knight, so he settled on one he knew Zaavik would share.

Disgust.

Ryv set the phone down and eyed his friend. "Zaavik, I dunno if it matters or not, but you weren't in the wrong for this. It's okay. You aren't a failure, you didn't let the Jedi down, and you certainly didn't let yourself down. I'd of done the same thing, buddy."

Zaavik Perl ​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

CORUSCANT // APARTMENTS

​

"No. No, Ryv you really don't-" A disfigured hand rubbed across his brow, covering the eyes as they squeezed shut. A laborious inhale hissed with a tortured undertone which only furthered in intensity with the sputtering on the tail end. "I know what you're trying to say, but, I shouldn't have. I know I shouldn't have." Zaavik shook his head faintly. Until Ryv had brought it up, he hadn't felt anything. No remorse, nothing, he was just empty. Reassurance, somehow, just made it all worse.

"If it wasn't me, though, it wouldn't have been anyone. These people, the Alliance protects them as they weave suffering under our noses." It hadn't yet occurred to him that he wasn't telling Ryv anything he didn't already know. He was overwhelmed, his own internal conflict of interest now dribbling out of his lips. "It all just- It pisses me off, Ryv. I want to cut them all down, and I know I shouldn't."

There was a moment of silence. Closed eyes, a pensive sustained shake of the head, and shallow breaths. The dam erected could not stop the flow of what was coming. Zaavik's jaw clenched hard enough that his whole head shook as his eyes shot open. A frustrated expletive in Old Corellian bellowed from his throat as he slammed his prosthetic fist on the counter. Hardened linoleum cracked and sundered, leaving a jagged web of faults beneath his fist.

"I fucked up man, really bad," his concession had broken from anger into a dissonant panic. "No one was going to catch me on Zeltros," a past digression slipped through the cracks. "But this is different. People care about politicians. I thought if I used her saber they wouldn't know any better. But I was sloppy, man. Impulsive. My anger moved everything, I just know I slipped up somewhere. They're gonna know it was me. Droyk!"

The Zeltron's head slumped forward, forehead against the counter. His fingers ran through violet locks and clasped tightly behind his head. A sniffle. Remorse had been short-lived. Even if Zaavik knew he shouldn't have, he still held that the fucker deserved it. Now, there was only fear. If what he'd done didn't let the Jedi down, like Ryv said, surely getting caught would. Wouldn't it? Doesn't failure have that effect on others?

The Prodigy of Master Shadow Locke lie here exposed; a child yet to come into his own.

"What am I gonna do?"

Ryv ​

 

[Ryv]

CORUSCANT // APARTMENTS

"Hmm."

There wasn't anything Ryv could think to say to change his friend's mind. Guilt nagged at him, reminding Ryv of his place in the Alliance's foundation. He was the go-between, a connection between Emmen Tagge's Core Federation and Lisza Starseeker's High Republic. Every step of the way the young Jedi Knight guided those who relied on his wisdom. He thought it all settled on Unity Day. Peace in the Core, control given back to the people, Imperials ousted, all the headlines told him things would be better. And he believed them. Why wouldn't he? The Sword of the Jedi had a hand in every step of the way.

Abandoning the Core to go fight against the Sith kept the Order busy. Made it easier for bastards like Ido Bastra to get his claws in. Ryv knew that would have to change, now more than ever. Zaavik's actions weren't the first of their kind, nor would they be the last. Those who joined the New Jedi Order weren't traditionalists afraid to use their power. They were people broken by the galaxy, left to drift without direction, unified only in their desire to bring about the peace denied to them.

Ryv didn't interrupt Zaavik's display. He kept quiet and considered their next steps. Kiyoshi was the first attacked by their order, Bastra marked the second. The Sword needed a proper lay of the land. He'd ignored his home for too long.

"First things first, you need to take a breath, man," Ryv drummed his fingers on the phone's backside. "Like I said earlier, I took a look at the crime scene. If not for my psychometry, and our history, I'd of had a very difficult time placing you. The red saber and skin will push folks in the direction of a Sith Pureblood. Once it hits the media? Lot of speculation, lot of pointed fingers, but it'll wind up being another incident to drum up more support for the war. We'll play to that. Bastards like Bastra will go their entire lives leeching off of society, doing the galaxy no favors."

He paused, attention drawn back to the phone. Quickly, the kiffar typed in the code and began his search anew.

"His death will do more for the Galactic Alliance than his life ever could. We'll take everything we got here and do some digging. He's probably not working alone. Means we gotta find the folks he's connected to and rip 'em down, one by one."

Ryv slipped the phone into his jacket pocket and shifted to face his friend. "You aren't alone in how you feel, Z. There are corrupt people out there protected by the nation we fight to protect. The same laws meant to do right for the people can easily be twisted and used by someone like Bastra. We're not gonna let that happen. I want your help to deal with this, Zaavik. I need someone I can rely on to be my shadow. Our order isn't like the Silvers or the people who came before us. We're here to do what needs to be done. But right now? I don't think you're ready. Not yet, anyway."

Curiosity led him to the jumbled up pile on the sofa. He nudged aside the dark robe and took hold of the lightsaber hilt buried beneath. Slowly, Ryv turned the weapon over in his palm, the weapon's ethereal cries audible through the force.

"For now, just relax. Lets get our heads back in the game and get a handle on our emotions. I need your help, but not at the cost of your health, Zaavik. If we're gonna do this, it'll be my way. And my way means you're prepared for what this work entails," he set the saber hilt back down and wandered towards the fridge.

"What's our next best move?"

Zaavik Perl ​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

CORUSCANT // APARTMENTS

​

Ryv was right, he needed to breathe. In slowly, and then out. Zaavik's shoulder drooped with the exhale, a portion of the tension released along with it. An open palm rubbed over his face, brushing hard backwards away from his face. Thoughts began to flow straight as he continued to focus on his breathing. Even if he had slipped up, there was enough to play on people's emotions and galatic tensions that the finger would be pointed abruptly. Certainly not at him. I'm a Shadow, I was made for this. He tried to reassure himself with a sprinkle of confidence.

"Even if he deserved it, even if his death is better for everyone, I dunno-" He gulped, looking back down to the counter. There was a quiver in his voice. "He was helpless, and the way his eyes-" A tight clench of his eyes cut the words short. "I should have just arrested him," he considered, but deep down he knew it wasn't so simple. SIA or not, you don't just walk in somewhere and make an arrest. Especially not when you're a Padawan. "It doesn't matter now, anyway."

"I want your help to deal with this, Zaavik. I need someone I can rely on to be my shadow. Our order isn't like the Silvers or the people who came before us. We're here to do what needs to be done. But right now? I don't think you're ready. Not yet, anyway."​

Had he ever truly been ready? For anything? Soldier, Jedi, Shadow, Assassin; he'd only ever chosen to be one of those things. Duty was too often overlooked for vendetta. Deep down, he hardly felt ready to be a Jedi at all, yet here he was. "I-" Zaavik couldn't make verbal sense of a reply. The attempt fizzled unceremoniously, leaving him leaning silently against the counter.

A clattering of saber against counter baited his eyes to it, and then up to Ryv has he moved back toward the refrigerator. So easily? Here he thought he'd been slick enough to hide it. It was just further reassurance that he wasn't ready. That, or just how much he still had left to learn from Ryv.

"What's our next best move?"​

Zaavik sighed steadily. "Head down. Don't go poking around at the scene. SIA is going to be in a frenzy." A hand reached down to pull his phone from his pocket. Seventeen messages already, all SIA related. "Already in a frenzy," he corrected. "We'll dig around too, but I'm kind of hoping this is going to be one of those 'kill the head and the body will die' situations."

"Something tells me it won't be that easy, though."

Ryv ​