Private Lights Out

[Ibaris Varanin]

THE SEPULCHRE
Prior to the Invasion of Coruscant Superhex
Zaavik Perl • Tayiji • Allyson Locke

Investment in the growth of the Emperor’s chosen, both in their acquisition and development was an investment in his vision, a task their founder had tended to from the outset of her willing agreement to support that vision. Varanin was particular, as he was, but that was independent of the precision of the search across billions of worlds; some of the most surprising potentials slipped under the radar.

Sometimes, the comb was not fine enough, and useful talent languished for longer: when her search dredged up the files of one particular Zeltron, on Coruscant of all places, still rotting in the deepest of holes close to a year and a half on from that earlier mission, her brows knit as she read. Fingers drummed on the desk. Her mouth curved downward. He could have been a useful asset before now.

There was no-one she could strangle for this oversight, and the window was growing ever-narrower with the next operation imminent… no, it was precise in timing. A test for one of the Elites inducted in the months since the Betrayal. An Elite who was before her in the Sepulchre's forge a short while later, his features lit by the glow of a handheld holoprojector. She peered at Tayiji, through the projection, her eyes somewhere between hazel and orange. There had been many preparations to tend to, as of late.

“This is a map of an S.I.A. lockup on Coruscant; you will be inserted around here,” Varanin flicked her gaze back to the projection of the facility, layouts acquired during that previous breakout, and indicated at ground level, at which point a highlighted path struck out from that location on the projection of the map, into the sublevels, “your retrieval will be in the underground,” then she brought up the next projection, “this is Zaavik Perl - he will be in one of the holding cells in the lowest level. You will release him and proceed with him to link up with the rest of our number in the upper levels.”

Where most Elites soon would be - preparations were ongoing all over the Sepulchre. She deactivated the palm-sized projector and handed it over.

“He will be unarmed, somewhat,” Varanin pulled the cold cylinder of a recently sealed lightsaber into her hand from the workbench it laid on, and handed it over to Tayiji, “give him the means to be effective.”

It was unlikely they would encounter no-one. It was expected. Then, at last, she unsheathed a well-worn, sharp ritual knife that seemed wholly out of place with her uniform, and turned, quietly uttering the words of an ancient tongue. Then she raised the knife, and carved through the empty air. The rift split open with the invocation, pulsing, indelibly and profoundly corrupt, and quickly stabilised under her will.

“The time you will have is exceedingly finite,” Varanin continued, her voice a thin warning, turning back to the Evereni, her eyes now distinctly orange, “as such, a rift will be your means of insertion. You'll be there in an instant,” Ibaris’ brows lifted faintly, “swallow whatever dis-ease it may give you,” she clipped flatly, “it will not be a regular occurrence.”

She gestured open palm to the crackling opening torn through space, through the Force, and directed him to enter.

“The rift will close upon your arrival... now go. ”

 

[Tayiji]

|| LIGHTS OUT ||
Epiphany - Chapter 1
———
TAG: Ibaris Varanin | Zaavik Perl
​

FEED YOUR HEAD
​

THE SEPULCHRE, HOURS BEFORE THE INVASION

Another day, the invasion of Coruscant is getting closer. The Sepulchre is making it ways toward the core. There is no New Sith Order now, it’s just the Dark Side God and His Elites. They had received new initiates to bolster their ranks and annihilate the New Jedi Order for good, yet it turns out there is still one last missing pieces.

“Zaavik Perl…,” Tayiji muttered at Ibaris’ brief. Perl, the Zeltron family. He has heard of a Sith Perl before, even if it’s just by reputation. He doesn’t know that he was holed up in a Coruscanti secret jail, but this would mean that he’ll be deep behind enemy lines with an uninitiated Elite. Breaking in, wrecking havoc, those won’t be the hard part, he is used to it. It is keeping the Perl alive that’s going to be the biggest challenge for temperamental barbarian. He accepted the lightsaber from the Dark Side Elite founder, who proceeded to open a rift from thin air with a ritual knife.

The Evereni growled at the mention of diseases; what others lament he consider a gift from the Dark Side. He knows how to live with it, or to absorb all of the crippling consequences until it becomes strength.

“The rift will close upon your arrival... now go. ”

His gaze travelled from Ibaris’ orange eyes to his one way ticket to destruction. “It will be done,” he gnarled, leaving the Sepulchre, the Dark Side Elite, and Ibaris behind, stepping deep into the enemy’s territories. The Emperor has trusted him with the mission, and he will get it done.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Click, click, click.

Prosthesis tapped against the floor in rhythm with Zaavik's pacing. Along with his whispered muttering, those were the only sounds that routinely graced the oppressive silence of the cell.

Click, click, click.

They'd stripped him of all his replacement parts, leaving him with a stump for a left limb, a hole where his right eye once was. The only courtesies he'd received were an eyepatch and a non-cybernetic replacement for his right foot. It was more than anyone thought he deserved, but even a hole like this had some standards. Yet they weren't above chaining his ankle to an anchor point on the wall, nor slapping a collar on him like an animal to suppress his ability to channel the force.

Click, click, click.

Indignified? Absolutely. Indignation ran dry a long time ago; thus, Zaavik no longer cared. It was what it was. Now his only source of satisfaction was the fear the guards still regarded him with when they came to deliver his meals through the slot in the door. He reveled in the unease in their voices when he refused their initial order to back away from the door, simply staring one-eyed through the viewport. Their anxiety was barely palpable through what little connection in the force he clung to. It was like a drug.

One day, he'd get this collar off, phase through the door, make them all pay. How? Still an uncertainty, but what was certain was that they couldn't hold him forever. No one ever could. This was no different. It was only a matter of time. Waiting for someone to slip up, waiting for a viable idea to pop into his head, waiting for something, anything. And so, he paced his three-step stride back and forth across the cell, waiting.

Click, click, click.

_____________________________________________________

Tayiji
​

 

[Tayiji]

|| LIGHTS OUT ||
Epiphany - Chapter 1
———
TAG: Ibaris Varanin | Zaavik Perl
​

FEED YOUR HEAD
​

CORUSCANT

The rift was a one way ticket to the center of the upcoming battle. Tayiji emerged in Coruscant from the Sepulchre, the abrupt transition from the rift leaving his cicatrized scars scald and burn. The rift closing down behind him in real-time, leaving behind the Sepulchre, Ibaris, and the rest of the Elites. One hour left and he’s on his own. He got time, but it must be properly managed.

Moving with practiced efficiency, the Dark Side Elite navigated the initial corridors; he knows that he wouldn’t be able to hide for long, but at least he’d buy time to ensure that he have the time to free the Perl and give him his saber without getting disrupted.

The way to the stairs was smooth and short; Ibaris made sure that the marauder would be dropped in the most strategic spot possible. He located the primary access shafts leading deeper into the lockup. Guards appeared, a blur of armed resistance, and he moved, a controlled surge of force. His strikes were surgical yet brutal. The essence of Bogan flows in his blood as he makes Coruscant’s underbelly a Dark ritual site. He didn’t shy away from his darkest impulses; a small act of terror that forever will be remembered by the SIA through the recording of the CCTV, if they could survive the bloodbath of Coruscant. A shrill, insistent alarm pierced the relative quiet, echoing through the passages. It was a secondary concern.

The siren's wail now a constant backdrop, the Evereni pressed on, deeper into the facility's lowest levels, guided by the internal map and the distant thrum of power cells. He moved with a predator's focus, the lockup's defenses merely obstacles to be bypassed or broken. Finally, the holding cells. He quickly identified Zaavik Perl's cell, the Zeltron's form dimly visible within; a weak and frail legend that would bring him glory in the eyes of the Emperor.

Without hesitation, Tayiji forced the cell's lock, a sharp, metallic groan accompanying its surrender. The red lights blaring all over the proximity highlighting the blood of the guards that painted his pale skin, and his shadow engulfed the Perl across the bar. He extended the recently acquired lightsaber, its hilt cold against his palm. If they are to maximise the chaos, he needs the extra hand; an extra hand that is his prized ticket in the dogs eat dogs hierarchy of the Dark Side Elite. "Varanin sends her regards," Tayiji growled, his voice low and direct, "We move."