The need for more (Solo-Thread)

[WolfMortum]

The Baccara was silent throughout the ship where the others slept and the vessels navigational computer held them on a course that would avoid most known and public shipping routes. Everything had changed since Eriadu, since Shinju Ayasha had found him on the run, seen the potential in him and taken him in only to have him turn his back on her and her order a standard year later. Since then, he'd struck out on his own, found a few like minded people and gotten it in his head that maybe they were all meant for something more, something that they can build on their own, to fight for and elevate themselves above societies pathetic expectations and the cycle that was their past soon to be broken and founded anew into the future that awaited them.

Eventually someone would move to take what they had, Zarack knew this more so than most, he'd seen it happen time in and time out, where one person profited, another secretly desired. It wasn't just the Dark Side and it certainly wasn't the way of the Sith, Zarack knew nothing about the latter but knew sentient design well, their ambitions and their selfish ways that all people eventually fell in line too, no matter their cause. Rather than run from it, Zarack had owned it, never once claiming but to anything of a good person or trying to live by a morale code; with everything on the line his way was simple. Take what you want, honor those loyal and forget about the rest.

His breathing had become staggered, fast paced and difficult as his hands pressed against the durasteel grating of the cargo bays cold floor. Stripped of his upper half, Zarack pushed himself away from the floor using his arms, his toes keeping his lower half from relaxing as he continued to do his press-ups for the morning. Sweat rolled down his forehead, from around his neck and chest as he neglected to give the burn his body wanted to acknowledge, a moment of his focus. His muscles ached but he was not listening, his mind was elsewhere, always looking ahead, always with his eyes on his goal. The Covenant of the Black Rose had introduced him to his abilities, his proficiency in the Force and started him down the path with his two lightsabers and little more than an instinctive learning of swordsmanship yet he was far from being at his best. He knew not the complexities of the force, understanding only the basics despite how he talked himself up. He had managed to keep himself alive, fighting off bounty hunters and fleeing at the opportune moments yet that wasn't enough for him, he needed so much more. Zarack was too proud to forever be on the run, where his opponents found him, he wanted the power to cast them down like the galaxy had done to him and his family, not to run but to strike them hard and without flaw.

He had left his former mentor because he refused to bow to any person, man or woman. He would not conform like a dog, and yet her training him had not been allowed to finish because of it. He had chosen his moments all wrong though his self involved nature of the time wouldn't allow him to see this to come, instead he was on his own now where his abilities were concerned and without proper guidance he had come to decide that the best way to move forward was to focus on his physical self, his body mass and skills in the lightsaber arts. His unorthodox and improvised style of swordsmanship.

 

[WolfMortum]

Zarack slowly picked himself up off of the floor, his body ached yet he wasn't finished for the time. Moving with a slight stumble he sought one of the nearby shipping containers and pulled a towel from the roof of it in order to wipe himself down, drying his shoulders and his neck before turning his attention to his shirt, his two lightsabers and his datapad sitting just on the left. With all the fancy technologies that Zarack had never been privy too before he had met those of the Black Rose, to have things like datapads and holo-imaging tech never ceased to make him smirk to himself, relishing in just how much had changed all because he refused to sit there and take it like a slave; to fight and to earn his way to greater things. He wasn't an overly proud young man, there was little in his life that he had worth admiring save for the ship itself and the two friends he'd recently made, yet to know that things could change, to have proven to himself that he was in control of his fate; that was something that no one else could take from him.

Taking the Datapad from the shipping crate, he activated the small device and soon opened the connection through to The Baccara's secondary functions, finding the holographic projection commands and soon activating one of the training modules that he'd been using to practice with his saber skills. The lights of the cargo area dimmed while the sensors in the four corners of the room came to life and first scanned the area, blue lines with minimal opacity moved out seeking everything that would be the make-shift dueling environment, tighter than one would like though enough for up close and personal confrontation, Zarack switching the device for one of his lightsabers, returning the second weapon to his belt before stepping away from the crate and taking to the center of the room. In his right hand he held the hilt of his lightsaber yet did not activate it. The Program that was loading would do all that he required, soon coming to life and projecting an imaginary blade all the same. Hilt heavy as were most lightsabers, there was little difference in weight between taking to the program and wielding an active blade. When his opponent stepped forward, Zarack's head lifted and his eyes narrowed, turning his focus to the other and forgetting that none of the program was actually real.

The older bearded man appeared out of nowhere, his eyes soulless as he looked to Zarack void of any emotion unlike the live target. The projection captured his features as perfectly as Zarack's memory had allowed, programming the holographic settings to display the image of his father as his enemy; or at-least what he remembered of his father. Wielding a weapon of his own, the false image moved to trigger it's own lightsaber, the projection flaring to life wielding a blue bladed sword and moving to approach; the session beginning. It wasted no time, sweeping horizontally for Zarack's midsection, swinging the blade out as far as it could reach whilst continuing to step forward, soon bringing the hilt back to follow with another blow, this time inverted and slashing down on the angle, intent on taking Zarack's throat and torso.

The lightsabers clashed, the program offering as close to real life sounds depicting the would-be life threatening duel. The red blurred and snapped out as Zarack met the first strike rebounding it back with a heavy parry, soon raising his hilt to defend against the second strike, again parrying it off sideways from the diagonal arc of his own blade, yelling in defiance as he threw the projected foe backwards several paces, the program reliving as best it could a realistic response to Zarack's defense before he himself could pursue the image and drive his lightsaber forward, the hilt taken into both hands and thrusting it out at the chest of the image in a stabbing blow.

The stab was blocked, the blade of the younger male thrown to the floor as the projection shunted the attack with a violent blow, forcing it down before moving to try to step passed the weapon, raising his own once more to sweep out across the neck of Zarack within close range, pivoting on the back of its right foot, it spun around expecting Zarack to try to counter and wound up behind the boy, whether or not the first strike for Zarack's neck had landed, it again delivered a second attack, intent on separating his torso from his legs.

His blade was pushed to the floor, his eyes catching sight of the program as it advanced on him, Zarack being forced to step towards it and ducking his head just shy of the foes lightsaber as it swept across over his head, the image of his father stepping passed and turning behind him, Zarack's mind focused and senses open, he moved swiftly, dropping to one knee as he turned and slung his hilt out across his line of sight just shy of the images shins. He was low enough to the floor for the second strike to again sweep just too high to be successful, his own taking the image by the knees and dropping the impersonation of his father to the ground, losing its weapon in the process.

Panting heavily, Zarack rose to regain his composure, his vision marred with his own sweat, moving to step over the projection, the program not over until the target was finished. Looking down at his would-be father, he could feel the anger in him swell, the hatred for the mans desertion of his family, though this was clearly not the real man, it wasn't difficult for Zarack to find it in himself to degrade it so, within. With one swift and finale strike, his fathers head was taken while he still lay at Zarack's feet. The Datapad beeping loudly and the lighting of the room returning to normal, leaving Zarack standing alone in the center of it, looking down at the floor, his mind still picturing the image of where the older male had been.