Wanderer
D E S P I S E D
Tag: Message me
“No More Verds! No More Verds! No More Verds!”
Rann watched from his balcony, his head resting in his folded arms as a crowd of Rannon’s citizens, his citizens marched down the Main Street of his city, Point Besboi carrying melee weapons, a few blasters, a few insulting signs calling him a Metuspawn…that was one of the nicer ones. The classic insult about his Mother’s sexual proclivities and one insinuating that…perhaps Rann’s father was the Milkman instead of Isley Verd.
“Why do people keep saying that.” He mumbled to himself as they continued their approach, chanting all the while. Rann watched as they passed security checkpoints and his meager forces either did nothing or joined them on their March.
“Concerning.” He said with a sigh. He remembered what Srina Talon had told him not so long ago. The people would turn on him like that. And they did. It didn’t take much. Just the outcome of a war so far away was all it took. The Mantle of the Sith had fallen and a power vacuum remained as the New Imperial Order claimed victory in the Third Imperial Civil War. Refugees fleeing the war and the notion that perhaps the Dark Side WASNT invulnerable after all had led to a rise in dissatisfaction towards Darth Metus and, by extension, Rann as a child of Metus.
No, it didn’t take much. And it wasn’t even his fault. Probably. He hadn’t remembered doing anything that tyrannical. He hadn’t even begun construction on his vain, overly expensive and unnecessary palace. If only they had waited a few more months, then Rann’d at least agree with most of their complaints. As it stood, he was merely annoyed. He should have listened to Srina Talons advice, perhaps this could have been avoided. If they truly feared him, they wouldn’t dare raise their hands to him now. Alas, it was too late. They had decided.
He sighed through his arms and stood up, placing a hand on the railing.
“I will not surrender so easily!” he yelled defiantly, unsure if the crowd could hear him over the chants. As he turned to enter his Penthouse he made an obscene and rude gesture with his metallic right hand.
Entering the Penthouse, he immediately began to prepare. His armor, which consisted mainly of his vambraces and Mask, and his robes. Black with golden trim. His signature look.
He would give them the evil they so desired. They would get the best of Rann if they came for him. Any who came for him would. Finally, he retrieved his dual lightsabers and hung them from his belt and, as soon as he pampered himself, made sure he looked presentable, he sat down behind his desk, mask in hand. He stared at the metal. Mandalorian style to honor his Father, and also bonus points for intimidation factor. It too had golden designs on its red base. It was meant to be a challenge. Inspire fear and awe in equal measure. Apparently as evidenced by the crowd outside?
It had done neither. But Rann would remedy that.
“Any who come for me. Die.” He stared at his mask focusing on his anger and rage. How dare they rise against him?! Their better?! This transgression would not be forgiven. Or forgotten.
And so he would wait. Until the doors opened with a loud crash and several armed men entered. Seven. With more in the hallway. Several security guards were with them. Traitors, but unsurprising, Rann thought as they surrounded his desk in a U shape along the edge of the room.
“We don’t want you here anymore Metuspawn!” Came apparently the leader in the middle. Rann looked up at him. An unkempt miner. Tall, good looking. The look of a charismatic leader about him minus the muck. A fine first target. Next to him, a Traitor Guard with his weapon raised A better second target.
“I am not my father.” He replied, standing and putting on his mask. As his voice changed to a more metallic one emanating from his mask his would be deposers waivered just a bit. “You have one chance. Leave now or die.” No flowery language. No jokes. A simple ultimatum. One he intended to follow through with.
“You’re under arr-ack cough!” The leader grasped at his throat as Rann raised his hand, lifting the leader into the air.
“You’ve chosen poorly.” He said coldly, roaring as he slammed the poor man into the ground with a sickening thud on impact before throwing him against another attacker. Within an instant Rann had drawn both Lightsabers and leapt over his desk as the guard fired his weapon. Yet Rann was prepared, deflecting a blast from the shaken Revolutionary into the ceiling as he closed the distance and removed the shooter’s hand from his arm.
A loud, blood curdling scream came as the man dropped backward, grabbing at what used to be his hand and dropping his now useless, cleaved in two weapon on the ground.
“Get him!” A war cry from another attacker to his left, standing over the broken form of the leader as he helped up the soul trapped beneath him.
“Yes. Get me.” Rann replied as he readied his sabers, rotating to face any would be attacker.Yet no one moved. No one in front or behind him, and the hallway was silent.
“No? Don’t worry. I’ll come get you instead.” He laughed and spun around, rushing towards the man who spoke and impaling him on the end of the sabers. With a shocked cry, the mans eyes went dark and his body limp as Rann withdrew his sabers and looked down at the Revolutionary that was hit with the leaders body. With a flick of Rann’s head, the man went sailing through the air, crashing through Rann’s glass windows and falling, screaming, to the ground below.
“You deserve every second of this for your betrayals!” He yelled as he pointed his lightsabers at the remaining attackers. The guard in the middle still doubled over on the ground clutching his hand started crying. “I-I-I-I’m s-s-sorry-y-y.” He begged as he sobbed.
“I’m not.” Rann responded as he threw his lightsaber at the downed man, separating his head from his shoulders before recalling the saber to his hand.
“This is too easy!” He cackled as the remaining men in the room regrouped with eachother. “Ooh all my targets in one place. Smart. I’ll never see that coming.” He laughed, yet the smile and laughter died just as quickly as ten men shouldering repeating blasters pushed through the crowd, taking up positions along the far side of the room from Rann.
“Open Fire!” Came an order from one of the men and a hail of blaster bolts flew at Rann as he attempted to dance around the attacks, deflecting what he could. But now the crowd was emboldened with Rann on the back foot, and they began to enter the room with their little holdouts and mining lasers, taking their chance and shooting at Rann.
He was good, but he wasn’t this good as a lucky blaster caught him in the side And he doubled over, falling back to the ground yelling in painas the order to cease fire came and his lightsabers disignited.
“We can beat them!” A voice from the crowd came as cheering began.
“You are under arrest my Lord” an officer in his Security Forces. A traitor.
Rann gasped in pain, looking up at his attackers.
“Traitors. All of you.” He said, grimacing.
“That’s alright. That’s okay. We know what to do with traitors.” He chuckled and inhaled deeply, wincing from the pain in his side.
“Traitors hang.” He said as he raised his hand, summoning all of his pain, all of his anger and commanding the force to obey him, and it did. Grabbing his attackers by the throat, he raised all of them up into the air, choking them as yet more watched from the hall. A few brave souls marched forward to save their friends and compatriots, but too late. Rann squeezed his hand tight, breaking the necks of his traitorous attackers as he rose back to his feet shakily. “Who’s next?” He asked, looking at the remaining men in the room and those in the door.
“He’s a monster! Run!” Came the response as the men in his room broke and ran out the door, screams and panic as the crowd fled down the hall. Rann took one last look around, admiring his handiwork.
“Not…not bad.” He remarked, grabbing his side. He retrieved his two lightsabers and returned them to his belt as he made his way out of his office, moving as fast as he could.
He had won that engagement. Or… survived. But he knew that wasn’t likely to happen again. If they had access to the repeating blasters they could have access to more… exciting things. He didn’t doubt they’d bring the building down to kill him if need be.
“What if…” he asked, turning back around and heading back into his office. The lead Officer with the repeating blaster lie dead in front of all the others, a satchel around his waist.
“That’s lucky.” Rann chuckled as he looked inside. Thermal Detonators. Just what he needed. If they brought the building down. That’d be bad. But if he did? Well… he wasn’t winning this revolution. But he wasn’t going to leave without one major ‘screw you’.
Taking the bag of explosives, Rann made his way to the elevator. Luckily the remaining Revolutionaries that had entered the building were either hiding waiting for reinforcements or had left entirely.
Good enough for me he thought as he entered the turbolift and hit the basement. As the elevator descended Rann turned around looking out the windows of the lift. He saw the crowd surrounding the building and knew that they saw the lift descend. No doubt they’d be waiting for him on the ground floor. But he wasn’t going there.
Down in the sub level was the generator for the building. Nothing too fancy, nothing too strong, but powerful enough that several exploding Thermal Detonators and it would probably cause the building to collapse. And this was the plan. Rann set the detonators timers and threw the bag at the Generator. The bag hit with a loud thunk and Rann turned and walked a few paces away, finding the buildings sewer entrance. He needed to move. Fast. he opened the grate and descended, recoiling at the smell before pressing forward.
120
He pushed himself, utilizing the force to enhance his speed, gripping his side as he ran, turning corners, leaping over obstacles as he reached his destination. A club he had never finished.
The Fish Tank.
10
He ascended the ladder as quickly as he could and entered into the sub level of the club, shutting the grate behind him as a loud explosion and rumble emanated throughout the city. With a sigh, Rann fell to the ground on a knee, gripping his side and then falling back onto the ground. He began to feel the intense wave of pain washing over him, but he knew he was safe. For the moment anyway. He doubted anyone would come looking for him here, even if they figured he survived the explosion. This was a place he could relax. Wait it out. Try to contact help. Somehow. It wouldn’t be long until the events here were broadcast across Confederate space. Soon, everyone would know that, at the very least, an explosion occurred and at least a hundred were dead.
But that would be tomorrow’s problem, he thought, as he crawled over to a nearby wall and shut his eyes…
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