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High Alert
After her encounter with the Sith, being idle wasn't much of an option for Lia. Sitting still in the dark was even more uncomfortable than wandering through it. The former made her feel completely unprotected, like she might as well have been waiting for trouble to find her. The latter, however more eerie, felt like progress. Well, as much as wading through the darkness can feel like progress. She had her senses to guide her, and it made for a small comfort.
Her initial inclination was to find Obi-Wan. Though their bond wasn't strong, it had been nudging the back of her mind. As she twisted through the Temple, something occurred to her. As much as she wanted him to know she was safe, it could wait, and no one needed to remind her that he could take care of himself. The most important thing that needed to happen now was to notify the Council of the nature of the invasion.
Correcting her couse, she made way for where the younglings would no doubt be gathered. It only made sense that several Masters would be there, and most likely a Council Member or two.
She flinched at every unfamiliar shape she passed, scolding herself silently for not being as familiar with her surroundings as she should've been. In every dark corner she saw the Sith's face, contorted with the same anger that had constantly filled her presence. So much hatred... That one person could contain so much passion amazed Lia, and simultaneously filled her with dread. The last thing she wanted was to face that animosity again, and completely alone.
What in reality was only minutes, it felt like hours had passed by the time Lia reached the younglings' chamber. Almost immediately she spotted Mace Windu among a group of older younglings, no doubt easing their anxiety.Maybe broadcasting the Sith's presence in front of the younglings isn't the best idea. Lia did her best to mask her own anxious feelings as she walked up to him, softly announcing herself, "Master Windu."
Invasion {HERE WE GO YALL}
For a while there, Ventress was genuinely worried. It looked like Kenobi would succumb to his infection. He grew weaker by the day. From her lofty flat she had an excellent view (aided by the military grade binocs) of his progress. He had visitors, of course. Kenobi was a popular man, a symbol of the Order, even as relatively young as he was.
She looked on and chuckled as he received her flowers- the look on his face was priceless.
She watched anxiously as he lapsed into a coma. If he died, then there went her last chance.
The day she saw him open his eyes and sit up, she was actually glad. Good. It would be a crying shame if her rival were to meet his end at anything other than the tips of her bloody red blades.
And she smiled to herself when she woke up one day and his bed was empty, the room remade, the flowers gone. He had moved back to his quarters. She’d give him another day, perhaps two, while she prepared.
Asajj Ventress was under no illusions. This was her last chance to prove herself. If she failed, she may as well impale herself on her own lightsabers because it would be a quicker end than the one Sidious would grant her. The plan was not one of her best –it was so risky as to be borderline suicidal- but it would have to do. She’d rather it be this way than kill him in his bed. That… For whatever reason, that was just wrong. And if she failed, well. Ventress chuckled grimly. Chances are she would not live long enough to regret it.
This was all or nothing, literally do or die. And she was ok with that. It would be the greatest challenge of her life. Kicking down the front door of the Temple and killing one of their own right under their noses, in their very halls, would cripple the morale of the Jedi as well as grant her revenge and assure her place as Sidious’s apprentice, open the way for the real teachings of the Sith, not the tidbits and snippets that her dark lord had been feeding her. She could not be more motivated.
Ventress spent her time slowly, methodically, preparing. She pulled up records of the Temple, some official, some not. She watched the guard changes, found patterns and weaknesses and blind spots. As an assassin, this was something she liked, preparing a plan and having it go off without a hitch, elegant in simplicity, brutal in application. But she did not delude herself into thinking that it would be as easy as she hoped.
Kenobi had a damnable way of fucking things up.
The yslamir scale necklace that hid her signature in the Force would be essential, as would the small packet of explosives she ‘acquired’ and the maps of the inner Temple’s halls, which she memorized, along with the surrounding area- streets, sewers, potential hidey-holes, exits, distractions. Her lightsabers, of course, clipped to her belt. A few assorted items that might come in handy. Tight-fitting, mobile clothing, black as the space between the stars, unadorned except by menace, and a hooded cloak. All of these she carried. Ventress relied on fast, furious offense, speed, and agility to win her battles, and in the past it served her well, even against Kenobi.
On the second day of her preparation, she took to the lower levels. The Jedi Temple had independent power and backup power systems. They would both need to be taken care of. This would plunge the Temple into darkness and chaos, which she would take advantage of. Ten minutes of programming a slicing module would trigger every automatic door in the Temple to slam shut and lock, limiting potential interference. She would strike just after supper, when most of the Temple had either retired for the day or was eating. Then, the goal was simple: find and kill Kenobi.
In theory, anyways.
But despite everything, she found herself… apprehensive the night before. Ventress did not find sleep easily that night, and when she did, the nightmares came to her, an old familiar torment like an abusive lover. Her slumber was uneasy and not restful in the least.
Still, she had operated under less favorable conditions before.
So she rose, checked everything and rechecked it, looked over her maps once more, and settled herself on the balcony to wait for the sunset. Watching the Jewel of the Republic go on about its life was oddly soothing, despite the fact that the ‘Jewel’ was as cracked as any imperfect thing, flawed like the Republic it represented. Speeders, taxies, personal vehicles both luxurious and unremarkable passed her by. The sun began to droop in the sky, and it bathed Coruscant in tones of gold, pink, periwinkle, and at the far edge of the skyscape, twilight indigo creeping over, the coming darkness.
Oddly appropriate, Ventress mused, and stood.
It was time.
She changed into her battlewear. Now, there was no doubt, no hesitation; her entire body got that thrumming excitement that reverberated through her, turned her trickle of apprehension to anticipation. She honed that, sharpened it, remembered her hate and her anger and her grief and her need for vengeance. Ventress could feel the killer in her, the savage predator, the night hunter, stir from where it lay, never quite asleep, never quite at peace, always pacing with barely contained passion, and open it's sharp silvery-blue eyes. Her eyes.
By the time she completed the ten minute walk to the Temple, she was completely in tune with the Force and itching for a fight. If she hadn’t been wearing the scales, the Temple would have felt her coming from miles away, so strong was her signature in the Dark Side. The Light Side blazed around them and it, ruled like the Dark Side ruled Dagobah.
Her lips twisted in a wicked smile.
Ventress rounded the corner. There it stood, bathed in shining rays as the sun dipped below the buildings. She reached into her pocket and palmed the trigger.
A push of a button was all it took for the explosives she planted beneath her feet to go off. She fancied she felt the vibrations through the soles of her black boots. The tiny but powerful bombs reduced the generator and the backup generator to smoking wrecks.
An instant later, the lights in the windows of the Temple went out. The guards at the door turned, startled. It was all the distraction she needed.
Ventress leaped on them with a wordless growl. She didn’t even bother with her lightsabers at this point, hooded as she was, just drew the Force around her. Crack went the guard on the right as she kicked him in the face, breaking his nose and dropping him like a rock. Ventress didn’t look to see the damage she caused, but lashed out with her fist into the solar plexus of the other and helped him to the ground with an elbow to the back of the head. The entire attack was accomplished in the blink of an eye. She landed silently and straightened like a shadow given form and substance and dark purpose.
With that, she entered the Temple. Ventress dragged the guards inside and left them by the door, so no outward sign was visible other than a splatter of blood. She focused, looking for her quarry.
There.
Recalling her mental map of the Temple with perfect accuracy, she padded down the now-black halls. Only her silver eyes seemed to flash in the dark, like a manka cat. Third time’s the charm, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I hope you’re either ready to die… or kill me yourself this time.
A disturbance in the Force I feel...
Coming something is. Avoid it we can not.
Requiem for a Dying Song
The unmarked Republic cruiser floated serenely above Coruscant waiting for hyperspace clearance. It was a at least a generation behind the current standard from the Republic’s shipyards on Kuat, but it had been well maintained, even for all its dents and bangs and the lack of any sort of discernible attempt at a paint job.
The population of the planet of Telos IV had been splitting. There were rumblings of discontent with the Senate and the Republic at large. These grumblings had grown into a something more akin to a shouting match and then - inevitably, someone had lost their temper. The fighting had been going on for nearly a month, and finally Supreme Chancellor Valorum had requested the aid of the Jedi.
A pair of Jedi Masters were to be sent to hopefully ease the tensions and find a diplomatic solution. Their initial take off date had been pushed back as the separatists were insistent upon a planet-wide barricade. No one in or out. It was a fearful move, and a desperate one, but the Jedi Council had decided this was best.
They had gotten passage aboard a relief ship being sent from the senate for the homeless and dispossessed of Telos IV. Telos IV was a wealthy planet and that they were sending aid at all spoke either of corruption or of a joint decision of Grand Master Yoda and the Chancellor. Which was true was unclear.
Master Qui-Gon Jinn and Master Mace Windu sat next to each other in the shuttle’s cramped common area. It had been repurposed for the large crates of aid supplies. Med techs and other workers milled about along with the service droids, but the Jedi sat out of the way.
They had another Jedi passenger with them. Tallisabeth Enwandung-Esterhazy, known as Scout, sat with them. She was Qui-Gon’s newly taken Padawan and this would be her first mission out of the Temple since the tragic death of her first Master. They were all three of them dressed in poor-looking ponchos that the Jedi often used to disguise who they were. His had been died a rather horrible shade of green as if in the hope that would disguise that they wore various sizes of the same exact design.
Qui-Gon Jinn sat as he usually did, with the relaxed slouch of a man who had grown used to being ‘too tall’ his entire life. Though it appeared he was relaxed, his keen blue eyes were attentive. He could feel the stirring of apprehension beginning in the back of his mind. He turned it over and over, trying to discern if it came from the Force or his own misgivings about the planet. Dwelling on the past would not make him move forward. There were people suffering and lives being lost his own misgivings would have to be pushed aside if he were to do this properly.
