Chapter Text
Remember. A disembodied voice called to The Bearer of The DOOM Slayer in the recesses of his mind during the late hours of the night.
He was not asleep but he was not meditating either when his eyes suddenly snapped open. Glancing around while breathing heavily, he found himself amidst an absolutely devastated grey landscape. Chunks of massive ships, Mandalorian and Republican, were sticking out of the jagged rocks. None of the formations looked natural. It was as if an incredible force had taken the planet apart before smashing back together after turning it inside out. A veritable cataclysm that left the entire surface in complete ruin, ravaged by a perpetual dark green storm that constantly sent down lightning. A sort of corrupted Force Storm he figured… but there was no time to analyse or make any sort of research. Those were the consequences of the Mass Shadow Generator… it was the first and only time that it had ever been employed in combat… and it was a terrifyingly resounding success that left behind the devastation around The Mercenary.
Somehow… some semblance of an atmosphere remained and he was able to breathe… somewhat. It was laboured and heavy, feeling as if only a small part of his lungs was even able to take in air. He stared down at his gloved hands, noticing that his whole body was covered in a thick blanket of grey dust. They were trembling ever so slightly. He'd been buried alive alongside anyone and everyone that had been on the surface. One of the most terrifying and traumatic experiences in his entire life. For all of his powers, all of his skills, he still needed to breathe as much as any living being. By an unknown grace and driven by the sheer desire to survive, he'd managed to dig his way out… emerging as the sole survivor of ground zero…
It was not the first time… and it was likely not going to be the last time either… but it still weighed on him.
Remember Malachor V. The disembodied call was heard again. He could not tell if it was a man or woman, only that it was a sinister, breathless whisper. Remember what he did… What the other you did. It urged with urgency as the mangled mountain made of stone and fuselage in front of him gave away to reveal a shocking sight. A formidable edifice amidst the desolate landscape of Malachor V. Architecturally austere, its structural integrity was marred by the scars of the recent conflict, with angular spires and dilapidated walls attesting to the ravages of time and warfare. The predominant aesthetic was one of ominous grandeur, exemplified by imposing, obsidian-hued towers that evoked an unmistakable aura of Sith influence. It washed all the way to the overlook that he was standing upon. The pervasive use of durasteel combined with the lightsaber deflecting cortosis, coupled with the esoteric iconography characteristic of the Sith, underscored this facility's martial character.
Dynamo had no idea what it was, what could possibly be housed inside… but instinct told him that this must have been a place of historical significance, a veritable crucible of Sith teachings and their darkened, unending legacy.
You must stop them… the Sith Triumvirate, the Sith Emperor. The whispers demanded harshly, growing more and more frantic. Stop what the Cardinal Tsar put in motion... or existence will be doomed….
His eyes darted around the desolate landscape surrounding whatever this place was mirrored the aftermath of the intense conflict that had just transpired, with jagged rock formations piercing the ash-laden sky. Eerie whispers of the dark side resonated through the air, while the ground, scarred by the ravages of the Mandalorian War, reflected the grim reality. The oppressive atmosphere was accentuated by the pervasive shadows that danced upon the remnants of crumbling structures. As the chilling wind gusts washed through through the lifeless terrain, The Final Knight could sense the palpable aura of malevolence that shrouded everything… but there was another aura that was exuding from him… one of endless rage, hate and pain.
The only thing they fear… is YOU!
A sudden realisation came to hthe demonic mutant as he recognised that whisper as if it was his own… That was because it was his own. Whipping his head to the side, he came face to face with an unmistakable figure. Darth Revan… clad in his signature dark Sith robes which conceal most of his body. His worn and war-torn robes were black and adorned with red and gold accents that had been dulled by conflict. His distinctive mask with a slanted T-shaped visor inspired by Mandalorian helmets was cracked over his right side. Beneath it, it was revealed that his vertically scarred royal blue eye was clear of any dark side influences.
The Jedi Weapons Master lifted his hand heavily, clenching it into a fist before he pointed towards his counterpart from the voided Realm Alpha and declared powerfully. The Slayer's time… is NOW!
*****
In the hushed embrace of the early hours of the morning, shadows draped their room in an obsidian tapestry. The figure of the demonic mutant stirred up suddenly beneath the weight of unrest, eyelids shooting open to reveal his royal blue eyes haunted by the remnants of his torturous vision. Waning moonlight spilled through half-closed curtains of the stone windows, casting a spectral glow on his anguish ridden expression. The disquieting silence was shattered as Dynamo's breath escaped in uneven rhythms, a symphony of unease echoing in the stillness. As he grappled with the cold tendrils of what he witnessed in his subconscious, the refurbished barracks within the Temple of Ancients seemed suspended in a surreal threshold between the waking world and nightmares. Cold sweat was running down his brow and the dogtags beneath his white shirt were chilling against his skin. He reached beneath to grasp them in an attempt to ward off the lingering specter of fear in the wake of a disrupted meditation.
With trepidation etched across his face, The Mercenary turned his gaze to the side, cautious not to disturb the tranquility of the room. A soft exhale came through his nose, carrying the weight of concern as he surveyed the peaceful silhouette of the sleeping Jedi Sentinel. Moonbeams caressed her serene features, seemingly oblivious to the tempest raging within him but he could see the slight strain on her expression. It had leaked through their bond. Realising this, anxiety filled his eyes, as he wanted nothing more than to shield his loved one from the disquiet that gripped him. There was no reason why she had to deal with his issues. In the muted glow, he grappled with the dilemma of waking her, torn between his need for solace and the delicate balance of shared dreams.
Opting for silence, he suppressed the urge to awaken Bastila from her peaceful slumber. With a tender touch, he slid out from beneath the covers, careful not to disturb the peaceful repose beside him. The mattress yielded as he settled on the edge, his well-defined form a silhouette in the dimness. The room echoed with the quiet murmur of his thoughts, and he cast a glance back at his still-sleeping Knight Sentinel, lingering on her for several moments. A silent Watchdog of her undisturbed dreams. At this point, his breathing had calmed down and he found some sort of solace on the bedside. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he let his face fall in his massive palms, running them up as he wrestled with the revelations of his vision within the cocoon of shared silence.
Awakening to the disturbance within their Force bond, The Jedi Sentinel became keenly aware of his silhouette on the side of the bed. Concern steadily spread across her features as she rose from the embrace of sleep and, with soft motions, approached him from behind. The mattress beneath cradled their shared vulnerability as she gently rested a hand on his shoulder, her touch a wordless inquiry into the unrest that had stirred him from her side. His head shot up upon feeling it, glancing over with a vulnerable look in his royal blue eyes. It was… comforting to feel the tender reassurance in the presence of a caring companion. There was so much that The Second Hellwalker wanted to say, to ask, but he found that words eluded him. Ironic for someone who proclaimed themselves a ‘wordsmith’. Sighing in frustration, he let his head down as he sat heavily.
Softly, Bastila inquired from behind, "Georgian… what troubles your meditation?" Her voice was gentle in the stillness of their chamber and it carried a warmth that sought to unravel the knots of his restless thoughts. She could feel it through their connection, the way it ate away at his subconscious and she wanted to understand better.
"It's nothing, just memories of the past that will forever haunt me…" Dynamo murmured under his breath, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken worries. With a fleeting small smile, he added while gazing at her "Forgive me for waking you, Tila..." His self-destructive nature showed as he hid his woes and vulnerability even from the solace of her presence. There was something… holding him back but not even he knew what it was.
Sensing the unspoken turbulence in his words through their bond, on top of it being obvious on his expression, she persisted with a gentle insistence. "I do not need our bond to be able to tell that something is on your mind, Georgian. Please, talk to me…" The Jedi Sentinel brought her other hand and delicately wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her chin on one of them as she leaned her head against the side of his face. Holding him there, she did her best to provide him with the reassurance and understanding that she knew he desperately needed. “What did you see?”
Hearing that question had The Bearer of The DOOM Slayer tense up with concern, his eyes widening as her whispered words lingered in his overly keen ears. “Wait… did you see it as well…?!” The revelation that she potentially saw and felt every bit of his vision sent a ripple of worry through his disquieted form. On the side of the bed, he readjusted the way he sat, slumping back slightly against her as he was drawn by her coaxing him with her warmth. Still, he was reserved in his vulnerability, still scarred by what had occurred the last time he allowed something to leak through their bond.
“Yes, I did, but not everything.” Her words were as reassuring as possible as she slowly stroked his hair with her delicate fingers, "I only caught a glimpse of the last part… and I heard what was ordained to you by… Revan… ‘The Slayer's time is now’... " She trailed off as she was rather unsure of what it truly meant. Seeing Revan again had triggered something in he'd, a dormant realisation.
The air around them fell still as they sat in a shared embrace. Methodically, The Second Hellwalker slowly tapped his fingers against the mattress before his brow furrowed deeply. Visibly haunted, he turned his gaze to her as he confessed in a breathless whisper… "I was… back at Malachor… and this voice was urging me to remember something… It was Revan who was urging me… I… I remember everything… Everything that Revan did…” The weight of this incredible revelation hung in the air, casting a solemn atmosphere all around them
A gasp escaped her lips as shock painted her expression. "You mean-?" She exclaimed and cut herself off at the burden of understanding carried by his words. If he knew all that Revan did… it meant that he had become one with him in a sense. For some reason, that made her heart race even faster, a whole host of emotions coursing through her at this astonishing unfolding of matters.
Nodding slowly, there was a sense of newfound understanding for what he needed to do next along with all of the events that had transpired and, most importantly, why they happened the way they did. “Yes…” Was all that Dynamo uttered at first as he searched for words to explain. "Now I know for certain why Revan fell and what I have to do going forward." Determination entered his tone and he seemed to be resolute in the path that he was going to take.
Confusion and concern became etched across her features as she inquired tentatively. "What do you mean? What must you do?" Even with the luxury of their bond, he was still a complex enigma for her, a myriad of unsettling emotions filling her as she saw the undaunted conviction in him. It was the same one that she remembered from Revan. Only now did she realise why she had found it so familiar in the demonic mutant. There was no stopping him, his decision had already been made but there seemed like he had more to say on the matter.
"We were manipulated, Bastila…!" Dynamo kept himself from outright exclaiming it, keeping his tone low yet deeply frustrated. "Fooled.” Getting to his feet and out of her otherwise comforting embrace, he emphasized direly. “Me, you, Revan, Malak, everyone.” In a swift motion, he turned on his heel to face her and motioned around them with his hands. “It was all orchestrated even before the Mandalorian Wars began. A meticulous plan explicitly designed to weaken this Realm.” There was a heavy pause as he allowed that information to sink in before continuing. “During that war, Revan discerned the lurking ancient evil awaiting its moment… I have reason to believe that it was the Sith Emperor. The only course of action he saw was power.” It was a notion that struck a chord with The Final Knight, the reasons behind this pursuit. “Somewhere on Malachor V, he unearthed something significant-” With a hand on the side of his head, he shook it, huffing in growing frustration. “I can't recall the details.” Letting out a long exhale through his nose, he placed his hands on his hips as he continued his explanation. “Upon discovering this… he made a choice… a dire one… The Galaxy needed to be prepared for this, to be united… and the only way to ensure that unity was to forcefully unite it under him… It was necessary in order to prepare the Galaxy for this impending threat.” Everything was beginning to click together in The Mercenary's mind as he further thought on the matter, rubbing his beard with a hand. “In the initial stages of this war, he wasn't obliterating worlds; he was conquering them, striving to unite the galaxy under his banner to stand against that ancient evil. Yet, he faltered. Makarov orchestrated Malak's betrayal and disrupted Revan's plan. That was Makarov's scheme, but what he failed to anticipate was me—the bearer of Revan's memories.” He motioned towards himself as his voice began to lose the intensity it had gained. “It is this unforeseen consequence that affords us a chance to resist.” His voice trailed off at the end, resonating with unwavering determination.
Stunned and momentarily speechless, she observed him with wide eyes. To think that all of it, all of the pain caused by the Mandalorian Wars was a mere pretense for something far far worse. It was nearly unfathomable. However, she could sense through their bond that he was correct… and that terrified her. Everything was merely meant to set the stage… and this meant that the malevolent force they dreaded, the one that Revan was preparing for… was coming as they spoke. After a long and heavy pause, she got off the bed, her steps quiet as she walked up to him. Quietly, she placed her hands delicately on his chest and looked up at him. “The Sith Emperor…?” Bastila questioned breathlessly as she firmly believed that this person was only a myth. Then again… beings like the Cardinal Tsar of Hell were very much and very painfully real. “What does all of this mean? I never imagined..." Her words trailed off, hanging in the air with deathly concern at the revelation and uncertainty of the path ahead. Never in a thousand years would she have imagined that her choice to preserve the demonic mutant's life and help his healing factor would lead to all of this.
Seeing how distressed she was by all of this, The Second Hellwalker enveloped her in a comforting embrace as they stood beside the bed. "I know it's a lot to take in, but we'll navigate this together. This evil, the Sith Emperor… its arrival may be impending but that is why we, the Watchdogs, are here." He reassured her with a sincere smile, slowly stroking back her brown locks. “I'm here with you… and, from tonight onwards, you are safe.” It was an honest promise from him and a promise made was a sworn duty.
With a grateful nod towards his promise, The Jedi Sentinel gently pulled at him with her hands and coaxed him to sit back on the bed. All the while, she was still embracing him as they settled onto the soft mattress beneath them. "I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you…" She murmured with sincere sympathy while she cradled his form and the bed cradled the both of them. Slowly, her hands made their way up his back and into his short jet black hair. Delicately, she began to caress and massage him in order to ease his worries. Beneath her touch, she could feel his tension ebbing away with every passing moment.
Attempting to lighten up the atmosphere, he remarked with a slightly strained snicker. "You can say that again." A long exhale left his lips as his shoulders relaxed a little. However, other thoughts soon occupied his mind and he felt his muscles tense again. Tenderly, he pulled his arms from around her but didn't move out of her embrace. There was a thoughtful expression on him as he was staring at the stone floor, musing in his beard. "At least I now know for certain why The DOOM Slayer has evolved and what must be done to preserve the continuity of this Realm. I know the path that lies before, what I must do to face it." With that declaration, he clenched his left fist, fully tensing up the muscles on his powerful arm, feeling his raw strength, before relaxing them.
Love and admiration softened her expression as she positioned herself to look right at him. "I am glad to hear that, Georgian." Her hand was still in his hair, gently massaging his scalp as she assured him with conviction, "Please know that we're in this together. You're not alone, and we'll face whatever comes our way together." Her voice resonated in the air around them with the newfound strength. “We will be able to put a stop to this.”
Silence settled between them, heavy with the unspoken emotions that burdened The Bearer of The DOOM Slayer. He averted his gaze from her gorgeous countenance and let out another heavy breath. Sorrow permeated through their bond, no matter how much he did not want it to. His hands clenched tighter around the mattress beneath them as his shoulders tensed again.
Concern etched across her face, she noticed his withdrawal and immediately voiced her worry. "Georgian, what's troubling you?" The Knight Sentinel inquired, her tone insistent as she sensed his quiet anguish. Her hand reached out around him to rest on his bearded cheek and gently draw his stunning royal blue eyes to hers. Beyond the rage, hate and pain ever present in them, she could see glimpses of the man inside… the man that he was in this Realm and the one she had saved.
At first, he did not answer, simply taking her with his eyes, memorising her all over again. A heavy exhale cut through the silence before his burdened tone came. "I cannot take you with me, Bastila… Where I must go… the evil that we will inevitably face… they prey on this…” As he spoke in hushed and concerned tones, his gloved hand reached upwards and he placed it over hers on his cheek. “On personal bonds, on hurting those that we love…” It was a heavy choice to make but it had to be done. There was no way that The Mercenary was going to put her through any more danger and… he was even contemplating if he had made the right choice in loving her… If loving her meant that he was inevitably going to lose her… No… “I cannot put you in such danger… Not again…” He expressed only part of his worry, hiding his other thoughts on the matter. “This… is a path meant for those that cannot be killed… for Hellwalkers like me and my sister-in-arms…" His grave words trailed off as a profound sadness permeated through the weighted air around them as his gaze fell away from hers. "To face these monsters of the dark side… these outright demons ahead… Only a Demon Worse Than Demons such as I can stand against them… because all others would inevitably falter…" Such was the way that it had been before and such was the way that it would be going forth. Such was the fate that Dynamo chose for himself and he had long accepted it.
Outrage ignited in her eyes upon hearing that and she vehemently objected. "You are not a demon! You're a man, the greatest man I've ever known and the greatest man that the Galaxy has ever known." Pausing, she slid off the bed, kneeling in front of him. A hand was on his chest and the other was still on his cheek as she resolutely declared. "Do not think for a moment that is not the case, Georgian!” Whatever may be inside you, even if it's demonic, it is undoubtedly a force for good.” She insisted adamantly and stubbornly, unwilling to let him demean himself like that anymore. “Those shadows do not define you. Do not let it define you… because you always have a choice." That was something that she had learned from him and now she was using those very same words to soothe him. Her inner turmoil regarding what she felt that he was hiding from her was left unspoken for now… Bastila truly did not know what this was going to mean for their relationship and bond going forward…
In all honesty… Dynamo didn't know either… However, they could worry about it in the morning. Conceding to her comforting words, a small yet genuine smile graced his face. "We will leave it at that then…" He expressed simply but warmly. It was not often that someone fought back on his preconceptions about his own being. Most would have agreed with them, many more would have vilely reinforced them. For her saying it, he was grateful. Gently coaxing her by wrapping his arms around her midriff to pull her closer, he moved back onto the bed for the both of them to get under the warm blankets once more. Rest beckoned and they still had a few hours until morning.
Knowing how The Final Knight was, she had expected him to be resistant to that notion. Pleasant surprise was etched on her expression as she obliged to his silent invitation, moving with him onto the mattress. “You are not going to argue?” Bastila asked with a bit of a teasing smirk while pulling the blanket over herself. Desiring to feel his warmth, she slid closer beneath it, pressing her form against his while feeling his strong arms around her.
Shaking his head once, there was a bit of a teasing glint in his eyes in the same way as he responded. "No, not this time at least.” It was clear that such a deeply rooted mentality regarding oneself was not so easily uprooted. Gradually, his voice lowered to a tender whisper. “It is not how I wish to spend the last hours until dawn..." Cradling her in his arms, a protective aura seemed to emanate from the demonic mutant, enveloping her as they laid together. However, even with the tender gestures, the weight of the day that was to come lingered in his thoughts… He would depart… and she would remain in the Galaxy… alone.
Thanks to the warmth of his protective embrace, The Jedi Sentinel relaxed, momentarily forgetting the impending departure that was… oddly familiar… for a reason that she didn't want to acknowledge. Teasingly, she looked up at him and asked. "How do you suggest we spend the rest of the night then? Any ideas, Supreme Commander?" There was a playful glint in her half-lidded silver grey eyes as she leaned upwards towards him on their shared pillow.
"Allow me to show you, Tila…" He murmured with a light snicker, his voice carrying a hint of jovialness. Closing the gap between them, he shut his eyes as he tenderly pressed his lips against her delicate ones. As the remainder of the night unfolded, these gentle moments shared between them allowed The Mercenary to… put his worries to the back of his mind. Eventually they nestled in each other's arms with The Knight Sentinel succumbing to the embrace of sleep before him. He cradled her beneath the blankets but did not sleep… Instead he set himself on his sleeping meditation yet again. Over and over, he chanted in his mind… Tei Slaven ben kar en tuk… Kar en tuk Hust en Vitar… Kar en tuk du tei exunt… (The Slayer will rip and tear. Rip and tear Hell and Heaven. Rip and tear until the death) All until the first rays of dawn would come.
*****
From the black vastness of space, the Rakata homeworld spun around its orbit, freed from the looming shadow of the Star Forge. As a new day rose upon its surface, veils of white clouds weaving their way across it. Beneath them, azure oceans spread between the continents. Those were dotted with various hues that had evolved over the past tens of thousands years as nature reclaimed its rightful place. Its various ecosystems coexisted in perfect harmony, as was ordained by those who had once been the very masters of destiny beofre their inevitable downfall. Ancient relics of their age still pierced upwards towards the atmosphere, an ever aging memory of an empire long gone. After so long, only an enigma remained as even the descendants of the empire had forgotten their methods… but they would never forget their history… lest they be condemned to have it rhyme…
Silhouetted against the cosmic abyss and among various other vessels, the Hellborne Battlecruiser named Hyperion commanded attention with its colossal presence. Its slick hull was a skilled mix of midnight blue and Gainsborough grey that made the rays of the sun bounce off its surface. It had an air of agreesiveness yet with a hint of elegance to its shapes. While most of the ship reminded of an aircraft carrier, the curvature of its prow was reminiscent of a predatory beast that hints at the sheer power housed within.
A simple and yet distinct emblem was proudly emblazoned on its underbelly, the white lines making the shape of an abstract wolf's head with a Triforce formed on its snout. It pulsated with a pure glow, powered by the quantum reactor that gave energy to the entire ship, allowing it to cast an almost ethereal aura to whomever gazed to the stars. This sigil served as a testament to the protective force that governed the gigantic vessel and represented the harmony brought between the technology of Terra and the mystique of the Triforce.
As the behemoth hovered in the celestial expanse, it beared the weighty title of Flagship of the Watchdogs Starkiller Quasar Armada. The title ‘Hyperion’ was etched proudly along its flank, evoking a sense of celestial might. Gleaming in the cosmic twilight, the largest Hellborne Battlecruisers ever constructed stood as a guardian among guardians, a behemoth among the other sentinel ships watching over the cosmos, its sheer scale dwarfing all others yet offering a sense of security and protection.
The corridors of the Hyperion carried a seamless blend of military precision and warmth that would not be generally expected within such a colossus. Bathed in a gentle, ambient glow from the functional yet inviting lights embedded seamlessly into the ceiling, the walls were adorned with subtle accents of the Watchdogs insignia, giving those who strode within them a sense of unity amidst the disciplined order. Permeating through the atmosphere was a faint fragrance of coffee wafting from the mess hall and various break rooms scattered on every deck of the Flagship. These lounge areas were placed strategically along the corridors to provide pockets of respite. Whenever they got off-duty, any of the crew, no matter their rank or role, could rest and unwind on the comfortable seating beneath a soft and invigorating. Even if it was only a brief respite, it was oftentimes when laughter would echo out of these rooms, forging the unbreakable camaraderie that the Watchdogs were founded upon. lightaccented by soft lighting, invites crew members to unwind during brief respites. Brief conversations would be exchanged between the staff, allowing them to know each other and bringing a better sense of community aboard the ship.
On the sides of the corridors and hanging from the ceiling at periodic intervals were holographic displays in order to quickly showcase updates, announcements or simple vistas of the Galaxy that lay just beyond the thick fuselage. Pairs of Watchdogs soldiers, clad in their distinct midnight blue and Gainsborough grey gear, patrolled the decks with a blend of vigilance and camaraderie. On their shoulders were the sigils of Watchdogs while the other had the sigil of the Starkillers. Right below, on their arms, was the emblem that designated the unit they belonged to. Perhaps surprisingly, some had opted to have subtle nods to their personal interests, ranging from video game patches, to comics and even anime or manga. However, there was no denying their expression as there was no levity in the sense of duty that they exuded, carrying their M5A10 rifles responsibly allowing the approachability of their ship to remain undisturbed. There was an air of levity that did permeate through, the relief that the war was over was almost palpable.
Despite the underlying military nature, the halls of the ship were able to transcend mere functionality. Valuing the individual and the mental state of those who lived under the banner of this multiversal paramilitary and peacekeeping organisation, they became an example of the camaraderie that bonded the Watchdogs Starkiller staff together, making the Hyperion feel like a shared home within the vast emptiness of space.
Each deck of the battlecruiser had its clear purpose and it was no different for the one that housed the chambers of the high-ranking officers, those who were actually in charge of running the entire operation. That included the ones that were at the very top of the Watchdogs, the Supreme Commanders. There were only two of them in the entire multiversal organisation and both of them had their own rooms. Only one of them was occupied at the present time.
Illuminated by a discreet ambient lighting, the room resonated with an air of authority yet there was no mistaking the personal touch that its resident had given it. Various holographic displays were adorning the walls on one side, displaying various maps of planets relevant with the Galaxy far far away along with one large overview of it with parts of the Unknown Regions that had been charted so far by the scouting parties of the Intel Unit with the aid of the Starkiller Hunter Strike Battalion. A sleek console sat at the heart of a meticulously organized workstation, humming softly as it awaited to be used. Close to it was a shelf that had several small statuettes made in the liking of remarkable people from Realms they had been to, protected, charted or even had yet to explore. Among them were also a few cups with engravings that stated when and where they were all. One notable commonality was that they were received at swimming championships. On the desk next to the shelf was a case housing a pair of dark blue hued swimming goggles and a Romanian Tricolor swimming cap on top of it. Oddly enough or not there were no medals or commendations outwardly displayed, perhaps a testament to the humble nature of The Second Supreme Commander of the Watchdogs.
The seating and work area at the desk had a blend of ergonomic functionality and aesthetic flair, inspired by the very mother of The Gamer Swimmer, with a black with red trim plush chair adorned providing a commanding view of both the strategic displays and a panoramic view of space beyond the vibranium crystal windows. Next to those was a Romanian flag with a hole in the middle of it, emulating the flag of the Romanian Revolution. This haven laid undisturbed for a while longer, allowing the person currently occupying the bed to enjoy these last few minutes of respite. This person was none other than Georgiana herself.
In the serene stillness of her quarters, she lay peacefully on the mattress and beneath the warm blankets in the embrace of a much needed slumber. The comforting ambient light cast a gentle glow on her tranquil expression as strands of her dirty blonde ponytail spilled across the soft pillow that she was sinking into. Cradling a second pillow in her arms, there seemed to be a plush poking out from beneath the blanket right next to her serene features. Her breathing was inherently deep and subtle, with long periods of letting air in and out, indicative of the higher efficiency of her respiratory system thanks to her swimmer side. A hint of a smile graced her lips as she was within the Realm of Dreams. In the recesses of her subconscious, almost like every night that she did have dreams, she saw herself swimming in the air, essentially flying over the luscious green hills of the magical kingdom of Hyrule.
All too soon, however, she could feel the pull of her body wanting to awaken. Still in the dream, she willed herself to keep going… before remembering fully where she was in the waking world. Her emerald blue eyes snapped open, wide and alert, as was her instinct from her earliest days as a swimmer having to train in the early mornings. With a swift movement, she flew from under the covers and reached for her swimming wristwatch. Both the digital display and the hands of its mechanical side read 06:23. A wave of relief washed over her and she let out a long breath that she didn't know she held. Taking steps back, she let herself fall back on the mattress with the watch in her hands. Laying on her back, she closed her eyes while putting it on, adjusting it to be comfortable before her EXO-Suit assimilated and integrated it. All the while, a subtle smirk was gracing her lips before she chuckled at herself. Once again, she had awakened before the alarm… though even merely thinking about it had the Warthog Run track start playing in the back of her mind. After all, she functioned on music.
In the hushed ambiance of her quarters, the gentle hum of the Hyperion remained, almost like a lullaby that would draw her to sleep again. There was only one lullaby that could do that and, right now, her mind was playing the complete opposite of a Royal Lullaby. Deciding to not waste any time and get on with her morning routine, she rose from her bed with a tempered exhale, mentally preparing herself for what was to come in mere minutes. She was to meet with the officers in command of every aspect of the Watchdogs Starkillers and she had to brief them on their next mission. There would be little rest but, at the very least, their troops would have the ability to rotate.
With one last exhale, she got up from the bed, taking off her sleeping shirt and pants to replace them with her usual outfit. Each movement was practiced and methodical as she'd done this for hundreds of thousands of times. At this point, it was more instinctual than anything. This allowed her thoughts to drift on the impending meeting and briefing on what their next steps would be. Due to the unavoidable threat that the Ancient Sith of the Unknown Regions posed to the Galaxy as a whole, they were to set up several defensive points at key strategic locations along with Quick Response Forces to reinforce these positions should they be overwhelmed. Making such decisions, giving out such others, was a great burden of responsibility upon her shoulders given to her by her brother-in-arms upon recently turning eighteen. In the eyes of many, such a decision on his part was seen as odd… but Georgiana had long held the responsibility of all the Realms on her shoulder… as the One Above All… To all but The Mercenary and a very small circle of people, they only knew that she was the Herald of the aforementioned Realmmaker.
Even with such experience, she was nervous, mainly because the knowledge that they had was sketchy at best or downright misinformation at worst. Thanks to her background in swimming, she'd had to deal with distress almost her whole life so she knew what to do to cope with it. Music was one great way to cut through the judgment clouding mists of anxiety.
Her fingers deftly pulled on the belt of her Gainsborough grey cargo pants after putting on a pair of simple black socks. Next came her Romanian tricolor shirt over her well-toned and distinctly swimmer body. Curiously enough, she was already wearing a skintight swimming suit, but that was only her EXO-Suit in disguise. For now, Georgiana had left it in Incognito mode yet she never took it off nor fully deactivated it. It was far too dangerous to do so. That fact was resolute as she put on her dark grey with silver accented fingerless gloves, clenching her fists to feel her own strength. Her thoughts drifted back to the incoming meeting and she took solace in the fact that Crokess, the steadfast Jedi Master who'd grown to be a reliable brother-in-arms, was going to be her anchor amidst the uncertainty. His presence at the meeting was a testament to their shared journey and the trust that bound them, one which eased the burden on The Dolphin Swimmer's broad shoulders. Last to be put on before she headed out was her signature dark grey cap, adorned with symbols representing each of the four swimming styles.
There was a long pause in her movements as she finished, her emerald blue eyes glancing to the mirror and towards herself. The knowledge that Dynamo, her counterpart and brother-in-arms, shared this burden of being Supreme Commander with her made her sense of solidarity with him grow ever more. While they were fundamentally the same being, this also meant that neither was alone in this eternal endeavour. They shared the burden of leadership now that she was an adult as well, synchronising their decisions with perfect precision in order to navigate anything that the unknown dared to throw at them. Her attire donned and her reflection mirrored the determination etched on her expression.
The last piece of her outfit was the sigil of the Supreme Commander pinned on the left side of her chest. It was a stylized image of a white eagle with its wings spread out on a white edged with a blue inverted triangle background, representing the ideal of the Watchdogs, unity and strength for the greater good of existence. Alongside it was the Mark of the Hellwalkers, a stylised Argenta Crucible sword stabbing down into the flames of Hell itself, otherwise known as the Mark of the Slayer. After one last glance at her own figure and a deep breath, she stepped out into the corridors of the Hyperion, poised for the meeting.
Inevitably in her determined stride, she went past several vigilant Watchdogs patrols. Clad in their uniforms, they also bore the sigils of their units alongside the ones of the Security Staff. Without delay, they saluted The Second Supreme Commander with the utmost respect and even a reverence that was reserved for their Big Boss, The Mercenary himself. “Good morning, Commander!”
“At ease!” She acknowledged their presence by returning the gesture gratefully, showing that it was more than just a formality for her as well, it was mutual.
Indeed, they were under her command, she was their superior as named by the man they all looked up to, Dynamo. However, she fought and bled alongside all of them. The Dolphin Swimmer wanted to show them that very fact, carrying herself with a near perfect blend of authority and benevolence. The main reason why she was able to do so was from spending so much time in the Realm of Virtues, specifically the Kingdom of Hyrule and learning from its Princess across the many Eras that she visited. Each passing encounter became an opportunity for her to silently remind them and reaffirm the fact that she was one of them. After all, the power of the Watchdogs as a whole, not just the Starkiller branch, relied on the unwavering unity of those who served the greater good, no matter their roles. Cohesion, discipline and dedication bound them together in order to stand guard at the gates of doom itself.
“Georgi!” A familiar voice called out from behind her.
Turning quickly upon hearing it, her smile widened at the sight of her brother-in-arms. “Morning, Kessi…!” Both of them were swift to embrace each other, sharing a warm moment that was a testament to a bond that transcended traditional friendship or even camaraderie. They were siblings-in-arms, family, and these past months had granted them an unspoken understanding for which they were both grateful. “Slept well?” The Butterfly Dolphin asked while stepping back from the embrace so that they could walk together to the meeting.
“Yes, thank you.” The Blind Jedi nodded gratefully as he began to follow at her side down the path that had become familiar to him as well after joining her following the events on Dantooine. “I must admit that I haven't slept this well in a while.” There was a bit of a sheepish look on him when he admitted that, rubbing the back of his head with his synthetic hand.
“You and me both.” She chuckled but glanced at him understandingly as they were approaching the entrance to the War Room, guarded by two Watchdogs Starkillers. “Ready?” With a tight-lipped side grin, she questioned her brother-in-arms with mounting anticipation.
There was a pause as he drew in a heavy breath through his nose before declaring determinedly. “Yes, I'm ready.” His glazed over eyes exuded a clear focus on what was to come as well as reassurance that he would support her in this endeavour as she had aided and continued to aid him.
Adorned with the sigil of the Watchdogs in white lines, the door to the War Room was guarded by two Watchdogs Starkillers. Upon seeing the pair approach them, they saluted, a gesture that was graciously returned by The Gamer Swimmer and Jedi Watchman. Stepping inside, the notion that the following length of time had a high probability to decide the destiny of not only this Galaxy as a whole but the entire Realm of the Force and even Existence itself.
The chamber itself was a technological marvel and the very nerve centre of strategic, operational and tactical decisions when the Supreme Commanders were out in the field. Made to be reminiscent of the Command Centre on the Command Platforms back on Mother Base within Realm Prime's Terra Prime, its familiarity was comforting for The Dolphin Swimmer. Bathed in the soft glow of holographic displays spread out around them, the room exuded an air of coldness that invited one to keep calm and calculate their every decision with pinpoint accuracy. On the walls, interactive panels could be found, ones that seamlessly shifted between scaled maps of their surrounding sector of space, real-time data feeds that were continually updated by the Starkiller Intel Unit and projections of the few celestial bodies that they had information on within the Unknown Regions. They seamlessly transitioned between one another in a blend of technological functionality and subtle aesthetic that was pleasing to the eye.
A large, imposing table dominated the center, its touchscreen surface serving as a canvas for the holographic projections. This was the full version of the Strategic Mission Interface notably used by The Second Hellwalker, a cornerstone that sat at the heart of planning each and every operation within every branch of the Watchdogs in every Realm that they were stationed in. The SMI was surrounded by high-backed chairs, yet comfortable chairs that allowed those seated easy access to see and take in any information that was discussed. At the head of the large variant of the SMI, the Supreme Commander's seat was distinguished with a direct line of sight to every corner of the room. There were two of them, one of them belonging to her brother-in-arms. The ambient lighting was modeled on the one found throughout the rest of the ship and was commonplace on all of the Watchdogs Quasar Armada Hellbornes and Rest and Recovery Spaceship. The subtle hum of the ship's systems was a constant reminder of the power held within the hull of the Watchdogs Flagship, its one of a kind quantum fusion reactor.
Both the emblem of the Watchdogs and the sigil of the Starkillers were etched into the walls, a constant reminder of the organization's purpose and the unity of those who serve under its banner.
The entire ambiance had shifted when The Butterfly Swimmer and Jedi Master had entered the chamber, the assembled officers rising in a synchronized show of respect. Admiral Yorgos Skybound, the First, Second, Third and Fourth Mates along with the Colonels commanding the sea, land and air expeditionary forces respectively greeted them as was formal to, yet they did it more than willingly. Acknowledging their salutations with a brisk nod, she motioned for them to stand down with her hand, each officer taking their seat around the large table. The atmosphere inside the room was heavy with a grave anticipation, one that mirrored the gravity of the impending mission to the edge of the known Galaxy and beyond… into the Unknown Regions. Taking her seat at the head of the table and leaving the one to her left empty, Georgiana had to assume the focal point of leadership. The Mercenary's absence was not lost on those present as The Blind Watchman took the first seat on her right. After all, the was their main figurehead, the one to whom everyone looked up to. The silence that followed held a moment of reverence as she looked between all of them.
With a calm, cold and calculated demeanor that was identical to the one of the demonic mutant, she placed her hands on the sides of the SMI in order to commence the meeting. This was it, this was where the decisions that would set them on their fates were about to be made. Her eyes stared right at the Watchdogs Admiral. “Admiral Skybound, what do we have?” She questioned in an assertive tone, all of her previous nervousness and apprehension replaced by a leader's benevolent authority.
As a seasoned officer who'd grown accustomed to collaborating with her, he responded with a respectful nod. "Supreme Commander, we've compiled the latest intel on the Unknown Regions based on the comprehensive report given to us by the Boss regarding all of the Sith's operations and the plans that the Butcher of Realms had.” Tapping his fingers on the SMI, the holographic projections came to life to corroborate his words. “I must admit, the information when it comes to this ancient Sith Empire is rather sparse and shrouded in uncertainty. However, the Starkiller Intel Field Unit has identified potential points of interest and navigational experts of the same Intel Unit have charted plausible hyperspace routes." He gestured to them, where blinking points of light represent uncharted territories and potential anomalies. Two other images projected alongside showed the ships that had been sent as support for this scouting mission, the Dobrogea and Caraiman, which had fortunately returned safely to the Forward Operating Base Sierra Whiskey. “While the details are limited, we've mapped potential Sith worlds based on how they are related to Moraband and identified patterns in their growing recent activities.” Before them all, the displays shifted to show images of the surfaces of these worlds. “Concerningly, we have sufficient evidence to believe that the Hand of Doom has been spreading its influence within these regions.” His gaze shifted to the Blind Master while he continued. “It is fortuitous that Master Crokess was present and able to annihilate what we estimate to be a significant contingent of the Cardinal Tsar's fleet in this Realm.” There was a grateful incline of his head when he'd spoken of that, especially since The Jedi Watchman's actions had saved countless lives.
To that, The Blind Master only offered a silent nod towards Admiral Skybound, one that conveyed a subtle yet profound assurance, acknowledging the significance of the aid provided during the Battle of the Star Forge. There was no need for him to say anything. While not fully a Watchdog, he was still an honorary one and he could see how many among them saw him as a fellow Hound thanks to his time as their liaison during the Mandalorian Wars.
Looking back at The Third Hellwalker, The Flagship's Leader's report resumed deftly. “This has given us more time to adequately prepare a contingency for every foreseeable possibility as well as marshal additional forces in order to ease the pressure on the exhausted Republic fleet.” Such was the very doctrine used by Watchdogs since before they were even established, as employed by The First Supreme Commander. It was an effective one. "The Starkiller Expeditionary forces stand at full readiness for deployment, whether it is in the Unknown Regions themselves or along strategic defensive points at the edges of the Outer Rim.” He gestured to the display, emphasizing strongly. "Our approach will be cautious, and we'll prioritize reconnaissance to gather more detailed information before committing to any direct engagement. Our primary focus will be on mobility, fluidity and adaptability, given the unpredictable nature of this mission." As The Watchdogs Admiral concluded his briefing the holographic displays shifted to show resource allocations, fleet positions, and contingency plans.
A heavy silence settled within the chamber, allowing the gravity of the information to settle in the room. All eyes slowly went towards the sole Supreme Commander present, inquisitive for her guidance and anticipating her words with bated breath. With a motion of her hand, she assured The Flagship's Leader that he could take his seat, taking a moment to reflect on the efficiency and dedication of their organisation. It was absolutely remarkable how they were able to compile the report and strategic presentations in less than twenty-four hours. This ability to swiftly gather and analyze critical information was a testament to the proficiency of the Watchdogs' command structure. The unspoken synergy and seamless collaboration among all of the units and the staff adjacent to each, all contribute to a collective competence that is their cornerstone in facing the challenge of maintaining the very balance of existence. Her intense emerald blue eyes swept between all of them as she drew in a subtle but deep breath through her nose. "Very good. Thank you, Admiral Skybound," She acknowledged with an incline of her head, her voice carrying a blend of authority and gratitude before asserting. "That means everyone is up to speed, right?" She questioned, her tone both benevolent and firm.
With a crisp, "Yes, Commander Georgiana…!" Admiral Skybound affirmed the collective preparedness of the officers in the War Room. The affirmative response echoed through the chamber as the other officers nodded silently in confirmation, their readiness evident in the collective posture of the assembled leadership.
One of them raised his hand from his seat, drawing everyone's collective gazes. It was the Colonel of the Starkiller Terrestrial Expeditionary force, the one in command of those who were going to be boots on the ground with their mechanised units. He was a Twi'lek man originally from one of the Mid Rim worlds who volunteered to be a Watchdog during the Mandalorian Wars specifically because he idolised The Final Romanian Knight. “If I may, ma'am?” He inquired respectfully and awaited her nod of acknowledgment for him to pose his question. “Where is Commander Dynamo?” While his tone remained respectful, his words introduced an undercurrent of skepticism regarding The Gamer Swimmer's ability to lead them as well as her brother-in-arms had for countless years.
With a composed demeanor and burning emerald blue eyes, she addressed him sternly, "Commander Dynamo is currently attending to other urgent matters of personal nature. “The sheer weight in her voice left little room for further questioning or interpretation. “He will tell you personally if he feels the need to." She added shortly after, drawing a clear boundary on the matter. In the brief silence, she felt Crokess’ blind gase on her, silently assuring her that she could do this. Her heart was hammering in her chest as those in the room took in the declaration, a reminder that the Watchdogs' leaders operate with a delicate balance between duty and personal considerations. Even someone like The Mercenary, her brother-in-arms, had a life of his own and a right to enjoy it. The Second Supreme Commander's gaze lingered for a moment longer. “Rest assured, Colonel, that I am fully briefed and prepared to lead our forces in this mission. We operate as a unified front, and every decision is made with the collective wisdom of the Watchdogs in mind." Her response carries a subtle but firm assurance, emphasizing the cohesion and trust that defined the Watchdogs. The silent glance exchanged in the pause afterwards between her and Crokess transcended the need for words.
In that moment when the rest awaited the Colonel's reply, there was a profound understanding and reassurance offered readily by The Jedi Master towards her. It was an unspoken pact between siblings, bound not by blood but by the trials of shared experiences over the past months.
The heavy silence in the War Room persisted as all eyes remained fixed on the Colonel, awaiting his response. He exhaled through his nose, before nodding respectfully and in acceptance. "Understood, ma'am." He acknowledged, his tone now devoid of the earlier skepticism.
An incline from The Butterfly Dolphin took note of that fact as well, the previous tension between them now easing up. Her gaze returned to The Blind Jedi, humbly seeking that silent reassurance once more. The unspoken understanding between them resonated, reinforcing the bond that extends beyond words especially with the subtle smile on his expression. Emboldened and going back to addressing the assembled leaders, she posed her next inquiry. "Any further questions?" Her tone remained poised and benevolent, inviting any lingering doubts or concerns to be brought forth so that they may be discussed and resolved.
There was one. Embodying the spirited nature of many pilots found among their staff, The Colonel of the Watchdogs Starkillers Expeditionary Air Forces, a human man who'd been a smugglers before the Mandalorian Wars, raised his hand with a daring question. "What is exactly our next mission?" He asked boldly, anticipation filling his voice and eager to face any oncoming challenge.
Georgiana eyed him for a moment and there was a slight upturn of the corner of her lips upon making eye contact with The Watchdogs Airman. "Our next mission is a journey into the Unknown Regions, where no one in the Galaxy has dared to venture, beyond what they charted and beyond the Outer Rim.” There was a heavy pause as she let that information sink in, tapping her finger on the table to make the holographic projections come to life right above the SMI before continuing in a stern tone. “Based on what Admiral Skybound has just told us, that is where Makarov, the one we all know as The Butcher of Realms, has gathered his fleet." With a motion of her hand, she guided the projection to zoom in towards the borders between the Outer Rim and the Unknown Regions. Accompanying it were images that showed the fleet of the Hand of Doom, with massive yet decrepit ships similar to the ones that they had encountered at the climax of the Battle of the Star Forge. The same ones that The Blind Master had thrown into a sun with an absolutely superhuman and herculean effort. Beside it was a profile image of the Cardinal Tsar himself, their ultimate nemesis. The strategic significance of what they were going to do was more than apparent as the Watchdogs Starkillers prepared to venture into the cosmic unknown.
The War Room absorbed the details of the mission, most of their attention focused on the borders between the known and unknown since most of them were natives of the Galaxy. The air was charged with the anticipation of the challenges that awaited them, guided by the determined leadership of the Supreme Commanders and the collective resolve of the Watchdogs. A raised hand drew the attention of the sole Supreme Commander currently present. It was the First Mate, a Twi'lek man who'd been an officer with the Republic until the Battle of Malachor V. “The Unknown Regions.” He prefaced before inquiring with his brow furrowed in slight concern. “Is that not where the Ancient Sith Empire is?”
Hearing that, The Gamer Swimmer gave a rather solemn nod of confirmation, motioning with her hand to change the projection again. “Exactly.” While her answer was towards the First Mate, her gaze shifted to each staff member present in turn as she spoke. "The Republic is too weak to face them, and I'm afraid they won't be able to withstand a third war after the Mandalorian War and the Jedi Civil War." The weight of their responsibility hung in the air and on her shoulders as she set her hands on the table, her emerald blue eyes unwavering. "It is up to us, Watchdogs, to meet this threat with our might and protect the people of this Realm, allowing them time to heal and rebuild." Despite the grave words spoken, there was a fiecs determination boiling within her. This was why the Watchdogs existed in the first place, why they had expanded to so many other Realms beyond their original Realm Prime, to be the vanguard against an ancient and formidable foe, to keep the balance of the Realms and preserve existence as a whole for the greater good of all.
While they were all in agreement on this matter, there was no denying the concern that was etched across Admiral Skybound's expression at the uncertainties lingering on the matter. "Commander, the intel we have is sketchy at best, and we're venturing into the unknown.” His tone was calm and respectful, understanding the fact that she wanted to initially inspire them, however they had to maintain a realistic perspective. “Beyond Makarov's forces, particularly the Hand of Doom and their operations, we're in the dark. No one in the Galaxy has seen the Ancient Sith in millennia, let alone fight them.” He paused for a moment with a pensive look.“This mission is a strategic gambit on both the defensive and offensive reconnaissance fronts because we do not entirely know half of the forces that we are facing." His inquisitive tone sought a collective strategy on top of the approach he'd already advised in his previous brief to the War Room.
Those were all valid concerns that he'd raised for them all to keep in mind and The Butterfly Dolphin acknowledged their validity and recognized that their was a complex situation. Just another day at the help of the most complex multiversal paramilitary peacekeeping organisation. "Admiral, you've raised crucial points which I do take into consideration.” She assured with an incline of her head, looking right at him. “However… we do know them." She emphasized with a slight upturn of the corner of her lips. "We are dealing with Sith, Ancient Sith. Dark Lords of an empire of old, along with the one and only Sith Emperor… essentially their Cardinal Tsar even if nothing can compare to his horror.” Her tone had gained a steeled edge as her brow furrowed. “They have existed unknowingly to the rest of the Galaxy since the time of the Infinite Empire, long before the Republic was even formed."
"Sounds like they were not just rivals, but perhaps mortal enemies." The Fourth Mate, a Cathar man that they had recruited from Tatooine during the Mandalorian Wars, commented, nodding thoughtfully as he leaned back in his seat while observing diligently.
"Indeed." Georgiana gave an incline of her head while glancing towards the one who had commented. "And the simple fact that they lasted for tens of thousands of years, when the Infinite Empire didn't, is a testament of their power." Her tone was steeled yet trusting of those before her that they could overcome the Sith with their unwavering unity.
"But how are we supposed to face these Sith Lords?" The Colonel of the Starkiller Naval Expeditionary Force, a stern Selkath woman, leaned assertively on the table towards Georgiana, her beady eyes narrowing as she sought concrete details. Her sutble disdain for the sketchy intel was evident in her expression as much as all others. "None of our soldiers can command the Force in such a way, if any." One of her clawed hands rested on her seat's handle while the other thoughtfully stroked one of her snout lobes.
This was heading into the domain of The Jedi Master, who quickly looked to his sister-in-arms almost as if asking permission to speak with his glazed over gaze silently. One which was immediately granted. Thusly, Crokess interjected with a kind and understanding tone. "It's crucial to remember that having command over the Dark side of the Force doesn't make them immortal." As a Grey Jedi, he held an understanding of both sides of this cosmic coin. "We, Watchdogs, possess unique equipment, Force dampeners, shielding us from their direct influence. Additionally, many among our ranks can be considered Force sensitive, even if they aren't powerful Force Users." His blind eyes flickered to the others, but mostly stayed on The Navy Colonel. "Their rigorous training is further augmented by this advantage. In an open conflict, we can use this relatively unknown fact and the inherent pride of a Sith to gain the upper hand.”
Briefly exchanging a glance of quiet understanding with the Supreme Commander, The Blind Watchman fell silent and passed the word to her. "On top of that fact, our soldiers won't be the ones fighting. They will be the guards at the borders of the Outer Rim in the strategic locations previously mentioned." A brief pause follows as she informs them of the specifics of their mission. "Meanwhile, me, Dynamo, and Crokess will explore the Unknown Regions." Two Hellwalkers and a Master Jedi should have been enough, even with such a daunting task. The main reason for this distribution of forces was that neither Supreme Commander wanted to risk heavy casualties. The Starkillers were volunteers or willing recruits from the Galaxy, and their families from all corners had suffered enough loss.
The Third Mate nodded in satisfaction with the answer, grateful that it was given readily by both of them. However, the Colonel of the Terrestrial Expeditionary Forces didn't share the same sentiment. His brow furrowed, nostrils flaring in aggravation. Clenching his fist on the table, he raised his voice in demand. "So we're supposed to be a border patrol?" His narrowed eyes focused on Georgiana, his superior in rank. "Just sit around and wait for them to attack?”
"You're more than just a border patrol." Immediately, The Third Hellwalker countered, her voice carrying a grave weight as she looked directly at him, her gaze holding knowledge that transcended her eighteen years of age. "Doom is on the horizon, and we must stand as Watchdogs at doom's gate.”
"Do we have any indication of when they might launch an attack?" The Second Mate, a human man originally from Onderon, inquired while glancing between her and her brother-in-arms, his question echoing the shared concern within the War Room's strategic discussions. The uncertainty of the Sith's movements added another layer of complexity to the already intricate mission, and the answer to this question held implications for the readiness of the Watchdogs Starkillers along the borders of the Outer Rim.
She shook her head, her initial negation carrying a caveat. "No, but both Dynamo and I concur that time is running out. This galaxy is at its weakest, prime for conquering. That's why we have to intervene. We've worked to mitigate the damage as much as possible, and now we must step up," The Dolphin Swimmer declared firmly, her words resonating around the room with a sense of urgency. "Any other questions?" She asked, her hands clasped together on the SMI before her.
The atmosphere in the War Room hung with the weight of the impending mission and the responsibility borne by the Watchdogs Starkiller leaders currently assembled. The room waited for any lingering inquiries, the collective focus poised on The Second Supreme Commander's unwavering resolve. There was one, the Colonel of the Air Forces, who raised his hand with a wide grin spread on his expression. "When do we depart?" He asked from his seat, his eagerness reflecting the readiness of the airmen under his command.
"As soon as possible.” The Butterfly Dolphin declared resolutely, rising from her seat with her hands on the table. "I will speak with Dynamo and determine an ETA." Her words carried a sense of immediacy, reinforcing the urgency of their mission. "Anything else?" She inquired, casting a final glance at the faces around the War Room.
All of the leading officers present exchanged glances amongst themselves before their attention returned to Georgiana. The look in their eyes was a clear indication of the silent understanding that they were. For the moment, there were no further questions to be had.
Satisfied, The Gamer Swimmer nodded. "Then you are all dismissed. Return to your posts and prepare for departure." She ordered with a decisive tone that echoed through the War Room.
"Yes, ma'am!" The response came in unison, a chorus of acknowledgment that resonated with the disciplined efficiency characteristic of the Watchdogs. The officers swiftly rose from their seats, the atmosphere charged with a sense of purpose as they dispersed to carry out their respective duties in preparation for the imminent departure into the Unknown Regions.
Georgiana remained alone in the War Room, or so it seemed as she sat back down in her seat, leaning heavily into it. Running her hands across her face, a long exhale came through her lips. The day had barely started and this had already been exhausting mentally, which was the most taxing even for someone who was inherently enduring. Close to her seat at the head of the table, still seated at the head of the table, was none other than Crokess who offered a reassuring smile. "I would say that the meeting went well, Georgi.” He lifted his hand to place it on her shoulder and squeezed it firmly. “They all understood what they need to do and they see you as a leader.”
“Thanks, bruv.” She remarked a little sheepishly, glancing to look right into his blind eyes. Praise always had her humbleness rise within as well as a hint of red spreading on her cheeks. “I admit that was a worry of mine… Even if me and Buff Boi are basically the same person.” There was a thoughtful pause as she stared at her right hand resting on the table.
“You still act differently.” The Jedi Watchman spoke with plenty of understanding for her… especially since he felt that his situation might have been similar. Namely, being a variant of someone from another Realm, much like how Dynamo and Revan were also the same person at their core, just from different Realms.
“Yeah, exactly.” She nodded with a wider smile, glad to sense that he comprehended her words and whole situation. It felt good to have someone who could truly relate. She lwt the silwnce hang in the air for a moment longer until drawing in a deep breath to mentally prepare for the next part.“I guess now I have to go speak with Buff Boi.”
“You got this, Georgi.” The Blind Master immediately reassured her, smiling still as he looked right back at her. “I'll meet you both at the Ebon Hawk.”
The Butterfly Swimmer nodded with a determined expression, standing and snapping her fingers. At that, the War Room quieted and the lights dimmed, the screens turned off and all that remained was the underlying hum of the Hyperion's major systems. Another deep breath came from her lips before she commented towards herself. "Hai, s-o facem și pe asta!" (Come on, let's do this as well)
Finally, the both of them headed out, with her being the last to cross the threshold before the doors slid closed behind them. They bid the two guards standing at the sides of the entrance to the War Room farewell with a salute. Then, they went their separate ways, with Crokess using a Force Leap to head down to the surface while The Dolphin Swimmer walked with purpose to the docking bay. Her headphones formed around her neck and she lifted them over hwr ears, letting her rocking and metallic tunes fill her with determination. Just like before when she'd strode through the corridors of the Hyperion, she saluted the patrols that she'd walked past. At the same time, she took in the general atmosphere. One that was relaxed yet not overly so, a family yet assertive. The massive doors smoothly parted before her, allowing her passage to this part of the Flagship. Stepping through while nodding towards the airmen and staff she passed, she found herself at the expansive edge of the bay once more. Behind her, the staff was working hard to prepare every Mustang Starfighter and Bifrost Troop Carrier for their next missions at the borders of the Outer Rim.
The massive Hellborne Battlecruiser hovered in stand-by mode, a sentinel in orbit around the Rakatan homeworld below. Looking up and around, just beyond the edge of the force field that kept the atmosphere inside, the sleek hull of the Hyperion gleamed faintly in the ambient light, a testament to the might of the Watchdogs Quasar Armada as a whole. Her expression was reflective as she thought on what was to come, their mission and its difficulties.
However, her thoughts were far more on her brother-in-arms. He had found love, someone that he could care for… but she knew that he was going to refuse it now. They could not be together… not them, unfortunately. It was not their destiny because their paths were about to separate for a very long time, potentially forever. Moreover, there was the matter of immortality… a concept many had difficulties grappling with. Of course most Jedi, especially those that were very much attuned to the Force could live on eternally through it as Force Ghosts… but that was not what The Bearer of The DOOM Slayer would have wanted… It would have been a tease of what they had shared when she would have been alive. The Waverider knew all too well how her brother-in-arms’ mind worked… and she could use her intuition to guess what The Jedi Sentinel would decide… Time would tell soon enough if she was correct or not.
Her eyes closed as a heavy breath left her lips… she'd seen it before, the way Dynamo would force himself or be forced to leave someone that he loved behind. Ironically and bitterly so, she knew that it had hurt him more to leave the Kingdom of Hyrule after Calamity Ganon had been sealed away compared to how much it was going to pain him to leave this time. It was a cruel routine that he had fallen into, one that stemmed from the fear of losing them. After all, many of those that he loved… he was later forced to bury them. So, he would rather leave before and that was what he had done. He had left them, both The Princess and The Hero, specifically to come and mitigate the damage of the Mandalorian Wars. Now, with the knowledge that had been imparted between them… she was absolutely certain that The Butcher of Realms had specifically done it to get him to leave… just like before.
A grunt of deep annoyance came from deep within her core. With purposeful resolve, she leaned forward, surrendering herself to the force of gravity as she plummeted through the atmosphere of the Rakata Homeworld. Her specialized EXO-Suit enveloped her whole body and brought up the silver grey faceplate over the lower half of her face, shielding against the intense heat and strain of re-entry. Her descent targeted the temporary camp of the Allied Forces. Jets igniting, she broke the fall with controlled bursts from her feet, hands and back. The suit's nigh Ethereal technology ensured a gentle landing, with The Third Hellwalker touching down athletically at the entrance of the camp. The soldiers on guard duty, both Watchdogs Starkillers and Republic, were at first surprised to see her before theyinstinctively parted to allow her passage. Further on, they saluted, a gesture that she respectfully returned.
The camp sprawled across the terrain in front of the Temple of Ancients, a seamless blend of Republic, Elder Rakatan, and Watchdogs Starkillers tents and temporary structures standing side by side. Each faction's emblem fluttered atop their respective shelters, symbolizing the unity forged during their shared mission to stop the Sith Lord Malak and destroy the Star Forge. Landing pads dotted the camp, strategically placed to facilitate seamless coordination. Soldiers and personnel of all units moved purposefully between the tents, a dynamic blend of uniforms representing the Republic, the Elder Rakata, and the distinctive Watchdogs Starkillers gear. The atmosphere hummed with shared determination, a collective spirit that transcended the varied backgrounds of those assembled in this temporary haven before their journey into the cosmic unknown and the gradual reintegration of the Rakata into the larger galactic landscape.
Navigating through the camp, she swiftly located the landing pad where the Ebon Hawk rested near the heart of the encampment. It sat with an air of quiet readiness, its sleek form, a fusion of advanced technology and battle-tested resilience, stood as a symbol of unwavering determination for the Allied Forces. The soldiers in the vicinity acknowledged her with nods of respect as she approached, the air around them electrified with a sense of purpose as they prepared for the imminent journey into the Unknown Regions to face threats beyond comprehension for many. The landing pad was opened, revealing the vessel's interior, where The Mercenary himself sat in calm, cold and calculated anticipation.
He occupied the ramp, his signature nanofibertech black jacket underneath which he wore a white undershirt that featured a distinctive red streak running up the middle, right over his neck. His brown backpack, adorned with a Triforce sigil on the carabiner holding the straps together, rested as comfortably and form fitting as ever on his back. Visible over his right shoulder were orange arrowheads, and a few pouches adorned his brown belt, secured by straps with silver carabiners around his legs from front to back. Navy camo greaves and black nanofibertech boots completed his signature outfit, offering a seamless blend of style and functionality characteristic of a Splinter Cell. His nanofibertech gloves, made from materials akin to his boots and jacket, bore a Triforce sigil dimly outlined emblem on the back of his left hand. Distinctly, the area of the fingers where the adherent cells used to climb most if not any surface was dark green. However, the most striking features were his gauntlets – a grey one equipped with a distinct grenade and grappling hook launcher, paired with a khaki one dominated by an embedded vibranium crystal screen. This screen, the Strategic Mission Interface, symbolized the very best of the cutting-edge quantum powered technology that the Watchdogs had to offer. As he sat, he looked up, his royal blue eyes settling on his sister-in-arms approaching him.
The demonic mutant rose to his feet as she did, stepping closer in greeting. "Bună dimineața, Georgi." (Good morning) Despite his expression being suitably hardened, characteristic for both of their roles as Supreme Commanders, his voice carried an openness reserved for family. "Nici nu este ora opt." (It is not even eight o'clock) He commented rather teasingly and with a hint of cheekiness as he folded his muscular arms.
An amused puff of air escaped her lips as she grinned warmly, her hands resting on her hips. “Neața și ție!” (Morning to you too) There was a comfortable ease in their interaction, a shared understanding that extended beyond words. “Știi cum sunt eu.” (You know how I am) She shrugged with a sense of familial warmth yet smug at the same time, taking the tease from her bigger brother-in-arms in stride. “Nici n-am nevoie de alarmă să mă trezesc dimineața." (I don't even need an alarm to wake up in the morning) On her lips, a smirk played for a brief while, yet her emerald blue eyes held an understanding that went even beyond that of a brother and sister. It was as if they were the very same person. "I-a spune-mi... Ești gata?" (Tell me… Are you ready?) Her words were heavy with the shared burden of the mission they were mere hours away from embarking on.
Dynamo paused, taking a deep breath before nodding with a sense of resolve as he affirmed. "Sunt gata.” (I am ready.) Despite any lingering reluctance, his tone carried a resolute certainty. “La zece fix plecăm." (We leave at ten o'clock exactly. ) He declared, setting a precise time for their departure into the mostly uncharted depths of the Unknown Regions. This was it, the culmination of all their preparations and the beginning of a new journey into the cosmic unknown.
"Bine.” (Good.) The Gamer Swimmer acknowledged with an incline of her head, her gaze momentarily shifting to the SPN, a device very similar to the SMI of The Second Hellwalker, on her left forearm as she sent the message detailing the departure time to Admiral Skybound and the rest of the assembled Watchdogs Starkiller Quasar Armada. "Am avut ședința privind ce vom face exact înainte ca eu să vin la tine.” (We had the briefing on what we are going to do exactly this morning right before I came to you.) She informed her brother-in-arms with a bit of a smile that indicated it had gone well overall, especially for the first such meeting that she held by herself.
The Mercenary listened attentively to her and visibly perked up as he took note of the smile she wore. He was quite curious to hear how she handled herself for her first solo briefing. "Și?” (And?) His inquiry carried a desire to delve deeper into the details as he folded his arms and rubbed idly at his beard.
"Au reacționat mai bine decât m-aș fi așteptat.” (They reacted better than I would have expected.) Georgi remarked with a positive tone as it had gone the way she had hoped, not the way she had anticipated. Always a preferable outcome. “Mai ales când iei în considerare că le-am zis că o să fie singurii care o să stea la porțile cataclismului…” (Especially when you consider the fact that I told them they will be the sole guards at doom's gate.) Her hands rested on her hips as she trailed off with a pause as if wishing to build up a sense of excitement. "Nu s-au contrazis cu mine… prea mult." (They didn't argue with me... too much.) A brief chuckle escaped her before she added. "Kessi a fost de asem*nea acolo drept suport.” (Kessi was there to support me as well.) There was no way that she would not mention the support she had from The Blind Master and she would always be grateful for it.
The Bearer of The DOOM Slayer's expression softened ever so slightly upon hearing about The Jedi Watchman's upport. “Mă bucur să aud că Kessi a fost acolo pentru tine.” (I'm glad to hear Kessi was there for you.) He remarked with a nod, a genuine warmth underlying his words. His gratefulness extended beyond their current situation, forming an unspoken vow to reciprocate the support for their brother-in-arms on his own mission. A playful note entered his tone as he added with an upturn of his brow. "Nimeni nu se contrazice cu tine, Comandante.” (No one argues with you, Commander) His teasing tone had a hint of smugness as he tilted his head to the side. The banter between them was something that he would always appreciate, it was a clear reflection of their familial bond.
"Ba da!”(They do!) The Butterfly Dolphin retorted with a playful laugh before grinning smugly. "Doar că am argumentele cu mine." (It's just that I have my arguments with me.) She shrugged, maintaining a light tone before her demeanor shifted to her more serious side. "Deci. Cum facem asta?” (So, how do we do this?) Her question focused on the specific plans for their team, namely herself, Dynamo, and Crokess, as they prepared to venture into the Unknown Regions. The transition from banter to strategic inquiry emphasized the multifaceted nature of their roles as leaders within the Watchdogs and how fleeting the jovial times were. There was a look in her eyes that indicated she wanted to know everything from his perspective.
Becoming calm, cold and calculated himself, The Mercenary nodded as he took the cue to delve into his own perspective. "Totul de la începutul Războiului Mandalorian a fost doar o fațadă menită să destabilizeze galaxia." (Everything since the beginning of the Mandalorian War was just a facade meant to destabilize the galaxy.) He began to explain in a dire tone. "Când eram pe navă, Canderous însuși mi-a zis că Sith au venit la ei și le-au oferit oportunitatea să se testeze contra unui inamic vrednic, anume Republica… iar Mandalore a acceptat și așa a început războiul. Ceva îmi spune că Sith știau că nu o să câștige. Oricare ar fi fost urmarea, fie că Mandalorieni câștigau, fie că erau înfrânți, scopul era atins. Galaxia era slăbită. După ultima luptă, la Malachor V, Revan a descoperit ceva." (When we were on the ship, Canderous himself told me that the Sith came to them and offered them the opportunity to test themselves against a worthy foe, the Republic… and Mandalore accepted and, thusly, the war began. Something tells me the Sith knew they weren't going to win. Whatever the outcome, whether the Mandalorians won or were defeated, the goal was achieved. The galaxy would be weak. After the last battle at Malachor V, Revan discovered something.) His words wove a narrative of the hidden machinations and motives, setting the stage for the events that had unfolded during the Mandalorian Wars and Revan's subsequent discoveries at Malachor V. The ones that led to him disappearing into the Unknown Regions before coming back as a Sith Lord and starting the Jedi Civil War.
"Poți să vezi ce? Ai memoriile?" (Can you see? Do you have the memories?) The Dolphin Swimmer asked eagerly, leaning in with a curiosity that mirrored her readiness to uncover the secrets hidden within Revan's discoveries. Her brother-in-arms’ recounting of a history that she had only read and heard about sparked an eagerness in her to delve deeper into the past, seeking to understand the elusive revelations that had transpired at Malachor V.
He sighed, a wistful expression on his face as he held his chin in his fingers. "Doar flash-uri… Nimic concret. Dar știu că de acolo a aflat de acești Sith Antici și de amenințarea pe care o reprezentau. Așa că s-a dus spre Korriban, o lume care este la marginea acestui imperiu și nu numai că a aflat mai multe despre Hărțile Stelelor, dar și despre imperiul lor antic. Când te uiți la modul în care opera," (Just flashes... Nothing concrete. However I know that is where he learned of these Ancient Sith and the threat they posed. So he went to Korriban, a world that is on the edge of this empire and where he not only learned more about the Star Maps, but also about their ancient empire. When you look at how he operated) He continued, his words carrying a thoughtful weight. "Ataca cu precizie, destabiliza planetele, dar nu le distrugea, infrastructura rămânea, doar conducerea se schimba. El convertea lumile sub mantra sa. Le unea cu forța." (He attacked with precision, destabilising the planets, but did not destroy them, the infrastructure remained, only the leadership changed. He was converting the worlds under his mantra. He united them by force.) It was the exact same strategy that he would have employed if the need existed. His recounting unveiled the uncannily familiar strategic precision of Revan's actions, offering glimpses of his journey and the discoveries that fueled the impending conflicts that came or were yet to come. "Mai este ceva… anume Generatorul de Umbre în Masă.” (There is something else…namely the Mass Shadow Generator) He added, his thoughtful expression unchanging as he had to harden himself at the memories. “Nu mi-am dat seama atunci ce a fost sau cum a fost.” (I didn't realize back then what it was or how it was) To this day, he was haunted by how it had unfolded, how everything was splintered apart then smashed back together, how he was literally buried alive and had to claw his way out, barely making it out before suffocating. “Bănuiesc că știi felul în care a decimat flotele Mandaloriene și Republicane, nici măcar ai noștri nu au scăpat nevătămați…” (I suppose you know the way he decimated the Mandalorian and Republic fleets, not evenours didn't escape unscathed either…) For a moment, the demonic mutant had to pause, especially since he felt like he had failed his fellow comrades that day. Steeling himself, he continued in an even tone. “Dar, peste toate acestea, a creat și o masă umbroasă care a avut un efect devastator asupra Jediilor care erau acolo. Aceasta armă distrugătoare de galaxii… se pare că Sith au avut acces la tehnologie similară de pe perioada Imperiului Infinit al Rakata." (But on top of all that, it also created a shadowy mass that had a devastating effect on the Jedi that were there. This galaxy-destroying weapon… it appears the Sith had access to similar technology from the time of the Rakatan Infinite Empire.)
A gobsmacked Georgiana was silent as she absorbed everything that he was saying. It was a lot to take in and even though she was aware, hearing it made her blink several times. Words escaped her until the revelation struck her. "Știa ce urmează!" (He knew what was coming) She realized right then and there with wide-eyed astonishment. "Știa că urmează să atace!" (He knew that they were going to attack)The realization added a new layer of understanding to the unfolding events. Revan's actions, strategically precise and purposeful, hinted at a prescient knowledge of the looming threat. The pieces of the puzzle began to align as both Supreme Commanders grappled with the implications of Revan's foresight and the intricacies of the Ancient Sith's impending assault.
The demonic mutant nodded, his fingers idly rubbing his chin in a thoughtful manner. "Probabil că a știut dintotdeauna și d-asta s-a implicat în război.” (Perhaps he always knew and that is why he involved himself in the war.) His musings hung in the air, emphasizing the uncertainty surrounding Revan's motivations and the enigmatic foresight that guided his actions. While he could use his intuition and basis of the fact that they were fundamentally the same person, the differences were notable. “Deocamdată nu pot ști sigur… dacă a avut vreo previziune datorită Forței sau nu." (For now, I cannot know for sure… if he had some sort of premonition thanks to the Force or not.) The mysteries of the past seemed to be ever haunting. There was still much that needed to be discovered. Intertwined with the looming threat of the Ancient Sith and the Hand of Doom, it was a complex environment in which they were required to operate while keeping the greater good at the forefront of their actions. While Fifth Freedom granted them the privilege to do anything in the name of it, they were ever mindful of selfishly abusing that.
Nodding in comprehension, she was silent for a brief while, her mind going to the other aspects of the matter that they could discuss. "Dar Malak?" (And Malak?) She asked, her hand thoughtfully on her chin. The mention of Malak opened another chapter in their exploration of the past, prompting the Dolphin Duo to seek insights into the dynamics between Revan and his once-trusted ally along with the hidden influence that ran parallel with Cardinal Tsar Nero and his ploy with the Ancient Sith. The intricacies of their relationship held implications for the challenges they would definitely encounter in the Unknown Regions.
At first, The Second Hellwalker tilted his head from side to side as he tried to choose his words carefully but ultimately decided to get straight to the point. "Malak era... prost. Nu avea viziune." (Malak was… stupid. He had no vision.) While he spoke, a grimace of disgust crossed his face at the thought of Malak's thoughtless destruction. Telos, Taris, and Dantooine—all ravaged because of him. "Nici nu cred că a înțeles vreodată de ce Revan făcea ce făcea. A fost o cauză pierdută, tot ce dorea era să distrugă." (I do not even think he ever understood why Revan was doing what he was doing. He was a lost cause, all he wanted was to destroy.) The last part was a testament to the nefarious influence of the Dark side... moreover... the one stemming from the Eden wielded by The Butcher of Realms. The visceral distaste in Dynamo's tone reflected the destructive path Malak had chosen and the stark contrast between his lack of vision and Revan's strategic purpose. The mention of the Eden, the source of that dark influence, hinted at deeper layers of malevolence that unfolded during their journey in the galaxy.
"Deci… Revan nu a decăzut pentru că a vrut… ci a decăzut pentru că a trebuit…" (So… Revan didn't fall because he wanted to… he fell because he had to. ) The Gamer Swimmer concluded with a disturbed expression as she completely understood. The realization that Revan's fall wasn't a mere desire but a necessity added a layer of complexity to the Dolphin Duo’s shared understanding. Essentially The Fallen Weapons Master had made excellent use of the principle of Fifth Freedom, anything for the greater good. From their positions, they could comprehend the gravity of the choices he faced in the face of an impending threat. These revelations about Revan's journey continued to reshape their perspective as they prepared for their own venture into the Unknown Regions.
"Înțelegi și tu acum, nu?" (You understand now as well, no.) It was a rhetorical question, as Dynamo could clearly see that in her. His voice was dire as he gave the answer. "Ei erau cei care așteptau în întuneric.” (They were the ones waiting in the dark.) Those words were very familiar to The Final Romanian Knight as he had heard The Jedi Sentinel warn them of this during her discussions with Carth when they were making their way through Taris. “Acești Lorzi Sith Antici și Împăratul lor." (These Ancient Sith Lords and their Emperor) The gravity in The Mercenary's voice echoed the weight of the revelation, confirming that they were dealing with the Ancient Sith Lords and their enigmatic Emperor on top of the Cardinal Tsar and the Hand of Doom cult. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, revealing a myriad of formidable adversaries lurking in the shadows, awaiting their confrontation in the Unknown Regions where the fate of the Realms themselves might be decided.
She nodded despite the inquiry having been rhetorical. "Da." (Yes) Before following up with a burning question regarding their eternal archnemesis... The Butcher of Realms. "Și atunci cum se încadrează Makarov în toate astea?" (And then how does Makarov fit into all of this.) While she did have an idea, she wanted to have it confirmed by her brother-in-arms.
"El a fost catalistul." (He was the catalyst) The Mercenary began to explain, not bothering to hide the hate he harbored for Vladimir as every single hardship he had endured over the course of his long life thus far. Theirs was a long and even intimate history, having grown up together amidst the breast of the Brotherhood of Harbingers in Realm Alpha… before Vladimir betrayed everything that he had stood for out of lust and jealousy… directly leading to Realm Alpha's destruction and the deaths of trillions of people as a Multiverse died. "El s-a dus Sith cu un plan... un plan să cucerească galaxia.” (He went to the Sith with a plan… a plan to conquer the Galaxy.)A silver lining to the fact that they were once brothers-in-arms was that he knew The Butcher's modus operandi. After the conquest of the weakened Galaxy by the Sith… Hell would come to ravage and consume them all… bolstering its own ranks to a terrifying extant. “A vrut să se folosească de Revan și Malak, dar Revan și-a dat seama." (He wanted to use Revan and Malak, but Revan realised that.) It was only a hypothesis but a likely one based on the events that had unfolded. "Așa că Makarov l-a manipulat pe Malak să-l trădeze… şi de aici ști ce s-a întâmplat." (So Makarov manipulated Malak into betraying him… and from there you know what happened.) He concluded with the events that essentially led to the Jedi Strike Mission that had sought to capture Revan so many months ago.
With a deep breath, The Butterfly Dolphin nodded slowly, letting it all sink in. It was not unusual nor something that she had never heard off before, however, it still had not lost its impact. Seeking to draw her mind off it since the discussion was essentially ended, her emerald blue eyes glanced towards the Ebon Hawk. "O să iei nava cu tine?" (Are you going to take the ship with you.) With her right hand, she motioned to the retrofitted spacecraft, the other resting on her hip. It had been improved open as best as it could be by a team of Watchdogs Starkillers technicians, under the diligent supervision of The Republic Pilot and Twi'lek Scoundrel, of course. While they did not specifically need it, considering the sheer amount of ships in their fleet, the Ebon Hawk represented something else after all that had transpired.
“Da." (Yes.) Came The Bearer of The DOOM Slayer's resolute reply as he turned his gaze to the ship, reaching out a hand to place it on one of the pistons holding the loading ramp. "O să fie un semnal." (It will be a signal.) Firstly, it heralded their departure into the Unknown Regions, however, he was already planning on sending the ship back to the known Galaxy once the need would arise. After all, it was now a symbol of union and resilience for the Allied Forces with a significance that went far beyond mere utilitarian purpose. Its return would signal their return as well… at the very least the one of The Blind Master. He already knew that it was unlikely that he would return to this Realm during this period of time.
"Deci T3 și HK sunt la pachet?" (So T3 and HK come with the package.) She asked with a bit of a smirk regarding the ship's and crew's resident droids. After all, T3-M4 had been with the ship since the beginning and the little astromech was perfect for keeping its systems in the best shape. At the same time, while HK-47 did not do any maintenance with the ship, it was Revan's personal assassin droid, by proxy meaning that it was Dynamo's droid. That meant it was likely for it to not take too kindly to being left behind, especially if there was killing to be done.
Those matters were well known by The Final Knight. "Ceva la stilul ăsta." (Something like that) He affirmed with an incline of his head, having the same line of thought as her regarding them. The inclusion of these droids was going to ensure their practical assistance and a link to the ship's storied history, further connecting their journey with the legacy of those who had ventured into the unknown before them.
She nodded in perfect understanding, falling silent for a moment. Her gaze wandered around before looking at her brother-in-arms inquisitively. "Le-ai spus? Care ce să facă?" (Did you tell them. Who is doing what.) She asked regarding the rest of the crew, knowing that this was the massive last hurdle that he had to leap over before they could leave. Carth, Canderous, Mission, Zaalbar, Juhani, Jolee... and Bastila... Each of them was going to have their own roles while the Watchdogs Starkillers stood guard at the gates of doom itself.
The Mercenary's responsibility extended beyond the Ebon Hawk's crew to coordinate and communicate their roles. That way, the Galaxy would be safe while himself, Georgiana and Crokess would be away. All fronts would be locked down. While the weight of leadership rested on both components of the Dolphin Duo, this was something that only he could do as Commander of the Ebon Hawk. It was a delicate balance as they navigated the complexities of their mission and the responsibilities entrusted to their crewmates. A crucial aspect in ensuring the success of their mission overall. He paused for a second as that fact was weighing heavily on him. With a sense of purpose, he left to fulfill this task, instructing his sister-in-arms to wait for his return. "Acum. Așteaptă-mă aici." (Now. Wait for me here.)
*****
With the weight of his massive responsibility felt in each heavy step, The First Supreme Commander walked through the camp. The camp sprawled across the terrain in front of the Temple of Ancients and he had to admit it to himself that he was proud of the diverse forces gathered for a common cause, Rakata, Republic, and Watchdogs unified in purpose. Tents of varying designs and origins dotted the landscape, forming a mosaic of makeshift homes. Ancient Rakata architecture blended with modern makeshift structures. The remnants of ancient technology repurposed by the Elders coexisted with Republic and Watchdog tents, showcasing the unique and growing synergy of the three forces. Sturdy and uniform, Republic tents formed organized clusters. Each tent bore the insignia of the Galactic Republic, a symbol of unity among the varied forces present. Military precision was evident in their arrangement as commanded by Admiral Forn Dodonna. Alongside them, Watchdogs tents, though pragmatic, displayed a touch of individuality. The Watchdogs and Starkiller branch emblem adorned their shelters, standing out amid the broader amalgamation of forces. A blend of military discipline and personalization. In the center, a communal area formed around a campfire where members from each faction gathered. Soldiers and staff shared stories, strategies, and camaraderie, fostering a sense of unity amidst the diversity of their backgrounds. Various tech equipment, both Rakatan relics, modern Republic gear and cutting-edge Watchdogs kit was scattered across the camp. The coexistence of ancient artifacts and state-of-the-art technology reflected the unique challenges they faced.
It wasn't long before he found his companions, the crew of the Ebon Hawk. Those who stood with him through thick and thin, who followed him without question. The very individuals without whom this mission would have been destined for failure. Now, he faced the solemn duty of leaving them behind, a decision made for their sakes. The gravity of the impending journey into the Unknown Regions meant that sacrifices had to be made… ones that he had made before, and he approached this parting with a mix of determination and the acknowledgment of the emotional toll it would take on those he considered more than just a crew. They were siblings-in-arms… family… and he was abandoning them… to protect them.
Carth sat with a weariness in his eyes, a seasoned soldier who had faced the challenges of their journey with resilience. The lines on his face told a tale of battles fought and hardships endured. Still, through it all, he was glad that it had all ended, even if he knew that all of the effort was going to be in the reconstruction efforts. At the very least the Watchdogs Starkillers were with them, supporting them.
The Mandalorian, Canderous, exuded a stoic strength as he was diligently cleaning his Baragwin Repeating Rifle, sitting slightly apart from the rest but closer than before. His Bes'kar armor was worn and marked with battles, a living testament to the warrior's path he had walked alongside the demonic mutant. There was a burning dedication towards him, a vow from warrior to warrior and he was more than willing to walk alongside to Hell and back.
Mission, the young Twi'lek Scoundrel, had a mix of exhaustion and determination in her expression. Despite her youth, her experiences had matured her and her bond with Zaalbar was evident. She could feel how she had become a better person and The Final Knight had been more than just an adult barking out what to do, he was an inspiration for her almost like a father figure.
The Wookiee Scout, Zaalbar, sat beside her like usual and both of them were rather close to The Republic Pilot on his right side. His fur bore scars of their shared struggles, a silent testimony to the battles they faced together. Bacca's Sword was in his hands and he was looking it over rather thoughtfully. After all that he had been through and being inspired by The Second Hellwalker as well, he did feel prepared to be the leader of his people.
Juhani, The Cathar Jedi of the crew, displayed a sense of inner peace as she sat cross-legged close to the other three but at a slight distance from the Mandalorian. Even if she had not been officially raised from the rank of Knight to Master, her experiences spoke for themselves which was why she wore her red with black trim Jedi Master robes forged within the Star Forge. Her time spent grappling with the Dark Side had transformed her into a Jedi who had found balance within herself. All she needed to do was focus it in the same way The Bearer of The DOOM Slayer did and she would always remain in the light.
The wise old Jedi Consular, Jolee, wore a bemused expression as he sat on a plasteel crate. His journey had been long, and the gray in his beard hinted at the years of wisdom gained through the recent trials of life. Making the decision to accompany The Mercenary had been one of the best that he had made in his lifetime. While he was still a Padawan officially, similar to his fellow Jedi present, he wore distinct brown Master robes made by the Star Forge itself.
As they sat together, each member of the crew bore the marks of their shared journey, a collective testament to the trials and tribulations they had faced throughout the galaxy. Their mission to find and destroy the Star Forge had been successful… the Jedi Civil War had ended… Yet there was an even bigger one looming on the horizon. One foretold by Dynamo approaching them.
Being the first to notice it, Mission perked up as Dynamo approached them, her eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and anticipation. She was the first one to vocalize the unspoken sentiments lingering in the air. "So, this is it?" Her question hung heavy in the air around them. All of them knew all too well that they were at a crossroads of destiny itself, on the verge of a mission that held weight not just for The Mercenary, but for each member of the crew.
The Final Knight gave a short but firm nod while looking between all of them. "This is it. Your mission with me is accomplished. It's over." His words carried a weight of finality as he addressed the crew, acknowledging the completion of their shared journey with the destruction of the Star Forge… yet his dire work was never done. "However, mine continues with my forces. There's something out there in the Unknown Regions. Something dark that wanted this galaxy to be divided." As he spoke, his gaze shifted to Canderous, emphasizing the impact on the Mandalorian Clans and their involvement in the conflict with the Republic. The War that started everything. “That something… someone, was the one who goated the Mandalorian Clans into attacking the Republic."
Canderous was visibly shocked and infuriated by this unbelievable revelation. His Mandalorian pride clashed with the realization that their actions might have been manipulated for a darker purpose, nothing but mere puppets. "You mean that my people, our clans, we're just fodder for some greater conquest!?" He outright demanded yet his blood boiled towards the Sith manipulators.
The gravity of the revelation stirred a range of emotions among the rest of the crew as well. Carth's expression darkened, a mix of anger and frustration evident as he processed the implications for the Republic. Near him, Mission's eyes widened with concern and disbelief reflected in her features. Next to her, the Wookiee's low growl echoed a sense of displeasure at the manipulation of their actions. Juhani's gaze held a solemn understanding, recognizing the gravity of The Second Hellwalker's words. Jolee's cynical demeanor softened briefly, replaced by a sense of resignation at the complex web they found themselves entangled in. It seemed like matters were only going to get more complicated. This reveal had stirred a storm of emotions in each member of the crew and they had to grapple with the unsettling truth that their endeavors might have served a darker purpose beyond their immediate understanding.
After the long moment of silence in which the weight of everything had settled, the demonic mutant spoke. "I am afraid that it appears to be so." He confirmed to the Mandalorian in a solemn tone regarding the truth of the case. "You told me that the Sith came to Mandalore with an offer. They manipulated you." The gravity of those facts lingered in the air, underscoring the depth of the manipulation that had ensnared not just the Mandalorians but the entire galaxy. The revelation brought an uncomfortable truth to the surface, challenging their understanding of past events and casting shadows on the motives behind the Mandalorian Wars and the onset of the Jedi Civil War that came right after.
"Wait, so the Mandalorian War and this Sith War that we just ended were just a façade!?" The Republic Pilot stepped forward with his brow furrowed deeply, questioning in shock and disbelief. The revelation that the wars they had fought in these past years might have been orchestrated as a larger scheme sent ripples of anger through their ranks. The Supreme Commander's disclosure had unraveled the narrative they thought they knew, leaving them to grapple with the unsettling reality that the Republic's and Revan's actions might have served a purpose beyond the apparent war against the Mandalorians and then later when the schism in the Jedi happened…
"They were." Dynamo affirmed gravelly, his gaze focused on Carth. "And I intend to find out the identities of all who were behind this and stop them before they can attack." His commitment to unraveling the hidden orchestrators behind the façade of the Mandalorian War and Revan's fall resonated with unyielding determination. The crew of the Ebon Hawk was now confronted with the complexities of a manipulated conflict and they were forced to stand at the precipice of a new conflict, one against an enemy that they did not know… but The Bearer of The DOOM Slayer did.
"Then we're coming with you." Carth stated adamantly, the rest of the crew echoing his sentiment with nods of clear assent. Their collective determination resonated in unison. "You will need allies, friends by your side." The crew's pledge to stand alongside The Mercenary, despite the revelations and challenges that lay ahead, reflected the bonds forged through trials and victories. Whatever differences they might have had towards each other, they were put aside for the sake of their leader. Their commitment to each other and, most of all, towards him, remained unyielding.
"He speaks for all of us." Canderous joined him, stepping right beside him, a fierce loyalty underlying his words. It was quite a sight to see a Mandalorian and Republican Standing shoulder to shoulder… but they did it for him. "I said I'm your man until the end. Whatever and wherever it may be, I will fight by your side!" His declaration encapsulated the unwavering loyalty that had bound this diverse group together. First to destroy the Star Forge and now, potentially, to face the Sith Emperor and Cardinal Tsar.
The Wookiee Scout's roar echoed through the area around them as a declaration of his unwavering commitment. He'd sworn a life debt towards Dynamo and was determined to see it through to the end of the Galaxy, even beyond if need be.
“Zaalbar's right…!” Mission chimed in, stepping forward next to her massive furred friend. "You're not getting rid of me that easily." There was a cheeky note mixed into her determined grin as she looked up at him. "We've been through too much together. I'm sticking with you."
Jolee, ever the cynic, added his own touch of humor to the moment. "Well, I might as well see this through.” He groaned as if fed up with all of it, but it was clear that his commitment was unwavering. “It's not like I have anything better to do."
Juhani's expression softened as she spoke, a reflection of her deep sense of duty that went beyond that of a Jedi Knight. "I swore to protect and serve. I will stand with you, Dynamo, against whatever darkness awaits."
The Second Hellwalker stood in silence for a moment, his gaze moving across each determined face. They meant every word, ready to follow him even into the unknown reaches of the galaxy regardless of the fact that it would possibly lead to their demise… However, that was something he couldn't allow…. Not while he still drew breath. "No… Not this time, unfortunately." Slowly, he shook his head with that declaration.. "Where I am going, I have to go alone. I don't know how terrible these worlds are, and I cannot take anyone I care about with me. I cannot place you at risk." His words hung in the air, a solemn acknowledgment of the dangers that awaited him and the only two who were accompanying him in the Unknown Regions.
Upon hearing such words, the crew's expressions shifted from determination to concern, grappling with the realization that their paths would temporarily diverge… if not forever. The camaraderie they had built over the past months now faced the test of separation, and their leader, the one binding them together, bore the weight of the decision he had made for their safety.
Inevitably, there was going to be resistance towards that. "But you're taking your entire fleet!? What about that?" The Republic Pilot argued, a hint of irritation in his voice as this was a clear point of contention for him. That fact was valid for the rest of the crew as well as they looked at the demonic mutant with a mix of frustration and confusion. The presence of the Watchdogs Starkiller fleet offered a potential safeguard, yet his insistence on facing the unknown alone despite all that they had accomplished together demanded explanation.
One which Dynamo was more than prepared to offer readily and calmly. "I have a plan." He stated in a steeled tone, meeting Carth's gaze before glancing at all of them. "The Watchdogs will stand guard at the borders on the very edge of the Outer Rim, in case they attack sooner than expected. That will allow the Republic time to heal and recover." His mentality as The Soldier shone through, the one responsible with choosing the best strategic approach, emphasizing the crucial role the Watchdogs Starkillers would play in safeguarding the galaxy's borders and buying precious time for the Republic to regroup and reorganise with their aid as well.
A heavy silence fell upon the crew as they absorbed this new perspective, reassessing their roles in the plan envisioned by the leaders in charge of the Allied Forces. There was no other argument to bring and The Republic Pilot had to relent, recognizing the determination in The Final Knight's decision. "What do you want us to do?" He asked in a resolute tone, folding his arms and awaiting his orders like any good soldier would. Around him, the rest of the Ebon Hawk's crew did the same, awaiting their commander's instructions and ready to carry out their roles.
"I want you to keep the Republic strong for when I return… if I return." The Bearer of The DOOM Slayer stated simply, his royal blue gaze encompassing all of them. "That is all I ask of you." His mundane sounding request carried a weight of responsibility, urging the crew to maintain their vigilance and contribute to the stability of the Republic during his prolonged absence or even departure. There was a great amount of trust unlining his plea, one which brought forth the faith he had placed in their capable hands.
Just as he'd said that, The Second Hellwalker's SMI beeped as a message came through in his comms. "[Watchdog, the Hyperion and the Watchdog fleet are ready for departure. Awaiting command. Over.]" The message signaled the readiness of the Hyperion and the entire Starkiller Watchdogs fleet, prompting him to make a decision that would set their plan into motion.
Letting out a long sigh, he brought up his left forearm and looked at the vibranium crystal screen. "That is my cue to leave." His determined eyes turned towards the Ebon Hawk.
However, before he could even lift his foot to leave, Canderous ran up to him and got right in his face to stop him in his stride."You can't be serious!" He exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice as he stared at him intensely. "You will need an army if you're going to take on these Sith! And I don't want to sit around doing nothing for these weaklings!" His outburst conveyed both concern for Dynamo's safety, whether the Mandalorian ever admit it or not, and his disdain for the idea of standing idle while others fought his battles. The rest of the crew exchanged glances, each harboring their own thoughts on the matter, their expressions mirroring a mix of determination, worry, and uncertainty.
There was a long silence as the demonic mutant stared right at him. Despite the height difference, they seemed to be on similar footing. They were both mercenaries, after all, warriors in their own right. "You're right, I will need an army." He acknowledged with a brisk nod, reaching into his backpack and handing a datapad to The Mandalorian. Next to them, the crew watched the interaction and exchange with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.
With a grunt, Canderous took the datapad and scrutinized its contents. There was a galactic map on it which revealed a location with a distinct pin, leading him to a place of profound significance for every single Mandalorian Clan. The very site where Mandalore the Ultimate's mask rested, the last of their leaders before they were reduced to this sorry state. More than that, it hinted at the presence of the iconic black lightsaber, the rightful symbol of a Mandalorian leader which was presumed to have been lost when Mandalore the Ultimate was defeated by Revan. The weight of the information sunk in as Canderous recognized the historical and cultural significance embedded in the coordinates.
"Go to where the map points," The Final Knight directed him resolutely, raising and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Assemble an army. That is my order to you, Canderous. That is your mission. Make it count." The order carried with it a sense of urgency and purpose, recognizing Canderous as a key assest to a force that could play a vital role in the impending struggles against the Ancient Sith Empire.
With a nod of understanding, The Mandalorian accepted his mission. "Yes, sir! You will have it!" A mixture of determination and respect radiated from his gaze. "I'll gather the clans. We'll be ready for whatever comes our way." Was the determined promise given. The crew of the Ebon Hawk, witnessing this exchange, looked on with a range of emotions. From concern to pride, understanding the weight of their individual roles in the unfolding saga.
“Good. Thank you, Canderous.” That was not all that The Mercenary had for them in terms of orders. His attention turned towards his fellow Knights but from a different Order. "I know that you are not entirely part of the Jedi Order anymore, Jolee..." He addressed the seasoned Jedi before turning to The Jedi Guardian. "And, Juhani, you are still only a Knight technically, not a Master..." His directive was addressed towards the both of them, entrusting them both with this shared purpose. "But Master Vandar will need your help in rebuilding and reshaping the order. Both of you are unique Jedi, seeing the light and dark, embracing the grey. Your experiences are invaluable in guiding the order toward its true potential, shaping into what it should be.” Despite the firmness, it was clear from his gase that they could decline it.
The Dusk Consular gave him a long look, his eyes reflecting the wisdom and hardship of past decades before they had ever met, before he let out a heavy sigh. "Well, I suppose someone has to keep an eye on these young Jedi, make sure they don't go rushing off into a mess they can't handle. I'll lend my old experience to the cause.” Suddenly he raised a finger and warned. “But don't think I won't be keeping a critical eye on things."
Hearing that, The Mercenary almost chuckled. “That is exactly what I am relying on, old man.” There was a hint of teasing underlying his words before his expectant gaze shifted to The Cathar Jedi.
Juhani gave a brisk nod with a sense of duty and commitment filling her. "I understand, Dynamo. I will help guide the order toward balance and strength. It's time to rebuild, and I'll do my part." It was a sincere promise from her as this was the best way in her opinion to repay him for everything that he had done for her.
There was nothing else for The Bearer of The DOOM Slayer to do but give a definitive incline of his head. There was nothing else that he could ask them. He had already asked plenty and they had accepted his orders without hesitation. Upon his otherwise hardened expression was a hint of a smile as he looked at them with nothing but pride and… gratitude. "Stay safe, everyone... May the Force be with you." His words lingered as a shared wish for safety and success, leaving the crew to navigate their distinct roles in the imminent challenges ahead.
*****
As The Supreme Commander traversed the camp, a mix of emotions played across his features. Determination and a sense of duty were evident, but there was also a subtle undercurrent of uncertainty. Seeking to calm himself in a sense, he listened to the bustling camp around him, the amalgamation of Rakatan Elders, Republic, and Watchdogs Starkillers tents. Many Watchdogs Starkillers, their belongings in hand, were preparing to depart with him, showcasing the unwavering loyalty they held toward their big boss. The air around was filled with the sounds of soldiers exchanging farewells, the clatter of equipment being stowed, and the distant hum of various conversations. He moved through this dynamic environment with purpose, occasionally nodding to those who acknowledged his presence as he always would. As he approached the landing pad where the Ebon Hawk was located, the ship's silhouette stood against the backdrop of the Allied camp, a symbol of the upcoming journey into the Unknown Regions.
The encampment mirrored the complexities of the impending mission, and The Second Hellwalker was well aware of the weight of responsibility that rested upon his shoulders. However, he was more than resolute to carry it from the day he was named Commander of the small Rogue Foxhound squad of founding members centuries ago for him. It was awe-inspiring how far they had come. Each step toward the Ebon Hawk carried a blend of anticipation and the recognition that the path ahead was fraught with challenges yet to be unveiled. Hope for the best yet expect the worst and nothing will surprise you most of the time. Around the ship, the area was alight with activity as technicians and crew members worked diligently to ensure the vessel was prepared for the upcoming journey.
Sitting on the loading ramp much like he had, Georgiana was waiting for her brother-in-arms and fellow Supreme Commander to come. A silent exchange of understanding passed between them, the unspoken connection of shared purpose and mutual trust evident in their glances. With a silent acknowledgment that transcended words, the Dolphin Duo greeted each other like the true comrades they were. The unspoken bond of trust and shared purpose manifested in their exchanged glances, a testament to the deep connection forged through countless trials and victories.
As they stepped onto the ramp of the Ebon Hawk, the familiar vessel that had weathered many storms, there was a sense of anticipation in the air. The ship's interior beckoned with its characteristic hum, an echo of past adventures and the promise of the uncharted that lay ahead. The Dolphin Duo embarked on the Ebon Hawk, ready to face the challenges of the Unknown Regions together as they had faced Hell itself. The loading ramp sealed behind them, cementing their commitment to the journey that awaited beyond the veil of uncertainty.
Inside the Ebon Hawk, the metallic companions, T3-M4 and HK-47, awaited their return, mainly The Final Knight's. The loyal astromech emitted a series of cheerful beeps as it rolled toward Dynamo. At the same time, the protocol-assassin droid approached with clanking steps, its photoreceptors fixated on Georgi. Though unsettling, she figured that the peculiar and scrutinizing gaze from it was a reflection of her deep connection to Dynamo and, thusly, what it must have perceived as an echo of Revan within her. Their shared traits drew the droid's attention, recognizing fundamental similarities in the two individuals who had played pivotal roles in the galaxy's tumultuous history. Both droids stood ready for the journey that lay ahead.
Dynamo addressed them with a clear directive. "T3, HK, both of you are coming with me." He declared with a glance between the two.
The astromech responded with a series of affirmative beeps, ready for the upcoming mission.
Meanwhile, HK-47 expressed its compliance through a nodding motion, prepared to accompany its master and the Supreme Commander into the Unknown Regions. "Statement: Affirmative, Master. That is a pleasing arrangement. Let the carnage commence.” It commented with an eagerness that was characteristic to it before inquiring. “What is our target?"
That inquiry was more than expected by The Mercenary. He knew his droids well after all and how contrasting their personalities were. At the very least, their loyalty was unquestionable which he could appreciate. "We'll see, HK.” He addressed it sternly, instructing with a knowing look in his royal blue eyes. “For now, keep your weapons warmHe could easily play on its anticipation to prevent it from killing anyone he shouldn't. There was going to be plenty of hurt to be delivered to the right beings.
Knowing and understanding what her brother-in-arms was doing did not really ease Georgiana’s uneasiness regarding The Protocol Assassin Droid but she would have to tolerate it for the sake of a mission. Admittedly, a part of her did find its mannerisms to be morbidly amusing.
HK's compliance reverberated through the Ebon Hawk. "As you command, Master." It responded with unmistakable satisfaction, holding its Blaster Rifle poised and ready for the challenges… and massacres that awaited them.
With a resolute nod, The Second Hellwalker turned to The Gamer Swimmer, signaling the commencement of their operation in the Unknown Regions, where shadows of Ancient Sith and Hand of Doom awaited them. "Georgi, dă ordinul. Ne întâlnim la punctul stabilit." (Give the order. We will meet at the rendezvous point.)
She nodded in acknowledgment of his command. "Am înțeles.” (Understood.) Was her firm reply as she lifted her left hand and spoke into her SPN, her right hand going over her ear. "Watchdogs Starkiller Quasar Armada, this is your Supreme Commander speaking.” She addressed the entire fleet in a stern tone. “Greenlight for departure. Follow the beacon to the designated rendezvous point. Over." The general order set the wheels of their mission in motion, each word carrying the weight of responsibility and determination. At the same time, the Ebon Hawk's engines hummed to life as they embarked on a journey into the vast unknown, each passing moment bringing them closer to the looming threat that awaited beyond the borders of the known Galaxy Far Far Away.
Acknowledgments echoed through the communication channels as each ship in the fleet responded in unison, affirming their readiness and commitment to the operation.
With a renewed sense of purpose, The Dolphin Swimmer made her way to the co*ckpit, quite eager to reassume her familiar role as the co-pilot. While she hadn't been co-pilot of Spaceship before, she did ride shotgun in a car. It couldn't be thst difficult and she had the EXO to aid her. The demonicmutant, following his sister-in-arms, abruptly halted in the midst of the Ebon Hawk's hub. His keen ears twitched as the rhythmic tap of approaching footsteps reached him and, based on the distinct scent, he already discerned the familiar presence. As he turned, none other than Bastila rushed into his arms. In a heavy silence, they embraced, finding solace in each other's company.
Her embrace tightened, and she lifted her gaze to meet his. "I had to ask you..." The Knight Sentinel uttered suddenly, her voice hushed, hanging in the air with a weight of unspoken words.
"What?" The Mercenary inquired gently, locking eyes with her. However, he observed that she couldn't muster the courage to meet his gaze. His expression softened, revealing a questioning concern.
"Stay…" Bastila pleaded, her fingers entwining around the folds of his jacket, her gaze finally meeting his. "Please. Stay." Her expression contorted with the weight of the plea, each line on her face revealing the emotional toll as she strained against the intensity of her feelings.
A momentary pause lingered between as he tried to carefully chose his words. "I can't…" He finally uttered, averting his eyes from her intense gaze as he shut his own. "I'm sorry…" He added, gritting his teeth. "I'm so sorry. I want to, Tila. I want to so badly, but I can't." The weight of his apology hung heavily in the air, casting a shadow over their vulnerable moment. A dark spectre shadowed his mind and he knew what he was doing was incredibly cruel but there was no turning away from this.
"I… I know…" She said with a tinge of sadness in her voice, leaning her head into his chest. "But I had to ask..." Her quiet acknowledgment carried the echoes of unspoken emotions. There was no denying that she loved him deeply but theirs was a love that could not be. Their destinies were no longer intertwined nd clinging to what could not be would only cause more suffering.
"I understand." Dynamo sighed heavily, a pang of pain evident in his actions as he began to pull away from the embrace. He knew it would be equally painful for her. "But this... us... Our paths diverge now, and I do not... I do not want any further harm to befall you." The weight of the memory, the burden of her fall to the dark side for which he felt partial responsibility, hung heavily his vulnerable tone.
"I know..." She hesitated, the pain evident in her voice as he withdrew. It felt like something tearing from within her. "The Force brought us together... but is now pulling us apart..." Yet, a persistent thought nagged at her. She distinctly remembered his words about choices. "Can you not come back to me? Please...?" Her nigh desperate plea hung in the air, a fragile hope seeking reconciliation in the face of an inevitable separation.
That question almost broke him. He understood the cruelty in his actions, but he did it anyway just as he had done it before to those that he cared for deeply, believing firmly, maybe even deluded, he was sparing them from a deeper heartbreak. "I do not know if and when I will come back here, Bastila," He replied with a heavy heart, all traces of his Soldier and Mercenary hardness gone. "You... may be long gone when I do... if it takes me a hundred years..." The weight of his immortality, the burden of outliving almost everyone else that he knew and cared, was something that he would forever have to live with.
"I would still wait for you, Georgian…!" She insisted in a strained tone, stepping closer with tears burning in her silver grey eyes. "Even if I were to become one with the Force, our bond would remain…!" Her words held a resolute determination as she was growing more and more desperate.
While Georgian deeply appreciated her commitment, he couldn't bring himself to accept it. The harsh reality that she was mortal, destined to die while he remained alone, was a burden he couldn't bear again. "But... I wouldn't be able to feel you... You'd be there, but there would be a void in me as well..." His voice quieted as he forced himself in an attempt to keep it from breaking. "I'd be alone among those who remained..." The ache in his words mirrored the internal struggle tearing at him.
The Jedi Sentinel had no immediate answer, the words cutting deep into her. The bond they had formed felt like it was actively unraveling, him pulling away, shutting her off. "So this is it?" She inquired with a sorrowful furrow of her brow, the question sounding harsher than intended.
He nodded silently, a heavy acknowledgment of the pain they both felt. Turning away, The Bearer of The DOOM Slayer didn't look back. He did not have the strength or courage to do it. It was over. The weight of finality hung in the air, a poignant end to a chapter neither wanted to close.
With a heavy heart and tears burning in her eyes, she turned and left the Ebon Hawk for the last time. Refusing to glance back, her tears spilled over, marking the painful departure from a shared history.
Dynamo stood alone in silence, a heaviness lingering in the air. He lifted his gaze up, staring into nothing… wondering if he did the right thing. Now, it did not matter anymore. All that mattered was his duty and the mission at hand. After a deep breath, he made his way to the co*ckpit, assuming the pilot seat with a sense of quiet determination.
Quietly, they were joined by The Blind Master as he had mentioned he would. A wordless exchange passed between the three. Nothing needed to be said as he could already tell what his brother-in-arms had done. While he did not agree, there was nothing to be done now. Duty called all of them so he positioned himself between the pilot and co-pilot.
"Ești gata?" (Are you ready?) Georgi asked beside him, concern evident in her voice as she watched him adjust his setup. She knew all too well the toll that this break-up must have had on him… yet she was also aware that he was going to shut himself off from it. A fact that he had to fix… and she had to see to it.
He hesitated for a second… several in fact. "Da." (Yes.) He let out a heavy breath. "Sunt gata." (I am ready.) The co*ckpit of the Ebon Hawk was dimly lit, with an array of controls and flickering holographic displays casting an otherworldly glow. The worn leather of the pilot's seat bore the traces of countless journeys, and the soft hum of the ship's systems surrounded The Mercenary as he prepared for the next leg of their uncertain journey.
Soon enough, the one and only Ebon Hawk was cleared to leave and it took off, leaving the planet behind, seamlessly joining the Watchdog Fleet at its forefront. As The Thrid Hellwalker punched in the coordinates, the hyperspace drive engaged, propelling them like a bullet through the vast expanse of space, with the rest of the fleet following closely in its wake. The collective hum of engines and the streaks of light from hyperspace marked the beginning of a new chapter to be weaved in the records of the Watchdogs, each Hellborne Battlecruiser and Rest and Recovery Spaceship carrying its own tales of conflict and destiny. Words echoed in his mind, passages written long ago about them, about The DOOM Slayer within hin. The weight of ancient prophecies lingered, a constant reminder of the deeds of the past and what he would always be.
So you walk endlessly through the shadow realms… standing against evil where all others falter. May the blood on your blades and claws never dry…. May your thirst for retribution never quench… And may we never need you again… For you will be their saviour… your strength will be their shield… and your will... their sword. You will remain… unbroken. For your fight… is…
ETERNAL!!!
