Fallen Tears and Bullet Shells - Act One: Backwards Planet, Backwards Jedi

The last shot rang out inside the crumbling temple, an exclamation point to all of the pain and suffering that had led up to this moment. Standing over the smoking body I couldn't help but feel total satisfaction.

To make any sense of it I'll have to go back three years from now. Back to the night the pain started. I was still a Jedi Knight back then. My fall was just then beginning. It was a dark and gloomy night, much like this one...


The Jedi approached the tavern alone, his brown robes swaying slightly in the breeze. Zark Ekan wasn't here looking for a drink nor was he looking for the company. He was looking for a man. A man who might help him learn a little more about the past he had been so denied all these long years.

The message he had recieved earlier that day had been like a sledge hammer, destroying his entire surroundings like they were nothing. The sense of duty and pride he felt in his work was gone. The sense of honor and dignity he felt in being a Jedi had been destroyed.

Right now, he didn't know what to think.

It had been months since he had arrived on this backwards planet, searching, hoping for some explanation as to where he came from. He had fleshed out many possible relatives, all of them ending up in false leads and dead ends. Until this one. Mr. Jeremiah Bettis, a possible distant relative. Zark had written to him a week ago in hope of information. What he had gotten was more than that. Much more.

In short, it was a five page letter on why Zark should not have been a Jedi and why he had so much anger inside of him.

The door to the tavern opened with a small creak. The planet had not yet invented sliding doors. Many of the occupants turned and offered him stares, all of them empty, devoid of life. Zark was walking in a dream world and he was ready to wake up. That salvation wouldn't come for him.

"Roland! How's it going?" the bartender called out to him in his usual, cheery voice. Zark felt nothing. No emotion, "The usual, I'm guessin'?

Roland. Roland Deschain. The false alias Zark had been living the life of ever since he had landed on this planet. Ekan would definitely stand out, and thats exactly what Zark hadn't wanted.

"Yeah." was all he cared to provide. The charade was getting old real fast.

"Still won't drink, eh?"

"Mm..." Zark was too busy searching the tavern to make any kind of conversation. Mr. Bettis hadn't provided him with a description, but Zark had a feeling he would know him when he saw him.

"Unless he sees you first." A devilish little voice piped up in his ear.

In a flash the butt of Zark's pistol was drawn and pressing into the stomach of the man who had spoken. All of it was hidden under his robes, but Zark got the distinct feeling that everyone in the tavern's eyes were on him. The pistol wasn't a blaster. Zark didn't want to risk standing out. It was a simple projectile weapon only to be found on this planet.

"Now now, Mr. Deschain...we wouldn't want to kill the only man willing to tell you about your past, now would we?" Zark had already grown to hate that voice.

"Mr. Bettis, I presume? All right. Start talking."

"First you remove that simplistic little sidearm from my stomach."

With a grunt and a nod, Zark slowly complied. He didn't know why he had done it in the first place. Maybe it was just because the man irked him, but more likely because he couldn't sense anything when he probed Jeremiah with the Force. Even more likely was the fact that Jeremiah had read his thoughts with his first sentence. He was either psychic or a Force user, and Zark was betting his money on the latter.

"Indeed I am Force sensitive, Mr. Deschain. So perceptive of you. Just like your fath-" Jeremiah ended abruptly. Apparently, he hadn't intended to let that much information out too quickly.

"What do you know about my father?!" Zark nearly shouted out, partially forgetting where he was. A couple people near him turned their heads, but no more outbursts seemed forthcoming from Jeremiah, so they didn't linger long.

"Now now, Mr. Deschain. Drawing attention to yourself isn't the best of ideas. I've been watching you for a while and so far you haven't let anything slip. In fact, this is the most uncharacteristic thing you've done...for a normal resident of this planet, anyway."

"What do you know about my father?" Zark asked again, this time much more quietly.

"Know about him? I knew him, once upon a time. Yes...your father was quite a character...but I'm getting ahead of myself, now. Lets take a walk, shall we?"


The shadow of the darkside was walking hand in hand with Mr. Bettis, but I, like a fool, took the bait. I couldn't possibley have known back then that I was already on my way down the path...

Maybe if I hadn't been so rough with the man, things might not have turned out the way they did. But I can't change things now. But no, my heart tells me that what happened was fate...

Jeremiah landed roughly on his ass, scrambling to regain his composure. He wasn't fast enough. In an instant Zark had him by the throat and against the wall of the alleyway. Looking back on it, he realized that he definitely could have used more tact in this situation, but that didn't matter now.

"How very...un-Jedi like..." Bettis managed to gasp out.

Zark loosened his grip on the man, but did not let him down from the alley wall. That didn't matter. The ability to breathe properly was all that he needed. Suddenly, the man's leg snapped out and struck Zark in the leg. It had been fast. Too fast, and much too powerful.

The Jedi's leg almost buckled, and this gave Jeremiah time to to squirm away from his grasp. Zark's projectile pistol was out in a flash, the Force lining up his shot for him. One shot, two rang out, lighting up the dark alley. They were aimed at the man's legs, and hopefully they'd incapacitate him.

But something happened that Zark did not expect. He sould have expected it, for Jeremiah had told him directly, but Zark was still treating the man like a non-Force user. Jeremiah wasn't incapacitated. In fact, the bullets never touched him. They never got near him. In an instant he had dodged both, launching himself off the side of a wall. Zark shot again, but it was hurried and flew harmlessly wide. Jeremiah dissapeared onto the rooftop of one of the buildings that made up the alley.

Zark turned in almost ever direction at once, using the Force to help his speed and his vision. He had not been able to sense a higher level of Force than any other civilian in Jeremiah when he had met him, so Zark doubted he could use the Force to locate him right now. He'd have to wait for him to make the first move.

It wasn't long before that move came. Zark heard the snap hiss of an activating lightsaber, and turned just in time to see the red blurry line of energy streaking down from the rooftops to meet him. The familiar blue tint of Zark's own lightsaber met it in a dazzling display of sparks.

After a few seconds of struggling, they both pushed away from each other. Jeremiah came in once more, aiming a strike at Zark's ribs. Zark awkwardly deflected it. It had been quite some time since the Jedi had been in a duel, and he was having more trouble than usual getting into the fight as he had done so many times before with so many...Sith...

Was Jeremiah a Sith? Or was he just defending himself from Zark's overly-aggresive behavior. The Jedi didn't have time to ponder that now. He pushed Jeremiah's saber out away from his ribs and came in with a quick thrust toward Jeremiah's stomach.

Jeremiah went to parry, only to realize half-a-second too late to realize that it was a feint. Zark's saber came in, but Jeremiah was able to back away in time for it to simply graze his shoulder. Still, he couldn't help from wincing in pain, faintly smelling charred flesh.

But now it was Jeremiah's turn, and he came in using a multiple attack technique. It was basically one Force User trying to overwhelm another by attacking quickly in many places. Hopefully, if done properly, the other Force User would slip up and let an attack in on accident, but Zark was too experienced for that.

He quickly pushed one of Jeremiah's attacks away hard, giving him enough distance between the two to flip over the other man's head. Zark came around, lightsaber swinging, and forced Jeremiah into a lightsaber clash. Zark was impressed, though. Many inexperienced succeeded in harming themselves more times than harming others when using the multiple attack technique. Jeremiah was at least experienced to the point of Knight level or higher.

"Alright, lets try this again," Jeremiah grunted while they struggled to gain an advantage over each other, "I'm Jeremiah Bettis. I have information about your family. If you kill me, that information is gone forever."

Slowly the struggle for power lessened until finally Jeremiah stepped back and deactivated his lightsaber. Zark did the same. For a good five minutes they simply stood there, staring at each other, lightsabers held in limp hands. Finally, Jeremiah broke the silence.

"You fight well, young Ekan," he said, "Much like your father."

"What do you know about my father?" Zark asked, sharper than he would've liked.

"Now now, Mr. Ekan. You're getting ahead of the conversation," Bettis replied coldly, "When I complement you, you thank me."

"And when I ask you about my father, you tell me, or the fighting starts again," Zark shot back, equally cold.

"Very well. Very well," Mr. Bettis replied, chuckling slightly. Zark hated his laugh almost instantly, "I believe this might go down better with a drink. Oh look, a tavern."

"We were just in there," Zark said, narrowing his eyes at Jeremiah. The man was playing stupid, and the Jedi hated that.

"Oh yes. Woops," he replied, chuckling once more, "Lets take a walk, shall we? I mean, really take a walk. Not a 'you slam me up against an alley wall and start strangling me' walk."

I didn't know it yet, but Mr. Bettis was already having a dark effect on me. Though I didn't notice it at the time, I was much colder, more hate filled. But it was only the beginning...

The night was dark and cold, fitting for such a meeting. Jeremiah seemed to be waiting for something, but I didn't know what it was. I wish I had...

"So. You wish to know about your father?" It was a rhetorical question, and Zark knew it. But that didn't matter.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes...I know you're here to learn about your father," Jeremiah replied, giving Zark another grin, "But the question was do you really want to know."

A pause.

"Yes."

"Hopefully you really believe that," Jeremiah said, "What I'm about to say is one of the most cruel stories you've ever heard. Are you still willing?"

Another pause, this one longer.

"Yes."

"Good. Very good. You're father was a Jedi, you know," Jeremiah began, "Just like you. Maybe not just like you. He was less hate-filled."

Zark winced. Not because Jeremiah thought it was true, but because Zark knew it was true.

"He and his wife, you're mother, weren't originally born here. Rather, their ship crashed. Your mother was giving birth at the time. It was a painful one. She might not have survived had your father not diverted most of the power to the machines preforming the operation. Thats what caused the ship to go down."

Another wince. They had obviously died here, so in a way, he had caused it.

"They traveled for days with little rations. Soon, they began to wonder if there was any sentient life here at all. That is, until they found this city. It was immediately apparent that it was backwards. Frell, the doors aren't even metal, let alone durasteel."

It had been hard living on this planet in the past few months, if only temporarily.

"You're not answering my questions," Zark interrupted, getting impatient, "Most of this I know, or easily guessed."

"Calm down, calm down," Jeremiah replied, another one of those grins Zark hated flashing across his face, "I'm just getting to that. Eventually you're father was approached by a group of residents who were not natives, and had easily recognized them by their clothing and appearance."

"They offered your father help, but he was hesitant. You see, he couldn't sense them through the Force, which he knew meant they were Force adept. When he asked them, they would not tell him anything. Not if they were Jedi or Sith..."

"And what happened?" Zark asked eagerly, although he was far from grinning.

"They were Sith," Jeremiah shrugged, "They betrayed your father to his death. He managed to get you and your mother to a ship before he went down, but she had been hit by a stray blaster earlier on. I guess she didn't make it, since you're here asking questions."

"How do you know all this?" the questions had been eating away at Zark for some time, "Who told you?"

"Nobody told me," Jeremiah replied, grinning, "I was there. No, no. I'm not one of the Sith. I was your father's...servant. With pay, of course. A butler, if you will. He didn't necessarily hate them, but his mother insisted that whenever you saw one you cried. But you always cried."

"Strange. You don't seem very old..." Zark said, his eyebrows narrowing slightly.

"I have kept well, haven't I?" Jeremiah replied, giving out a bellowing chuckle. He didn't laugh, though. He never laughed, "But you must understand, Zark. There are only so many things you can't pick up on when serving under a Jedi Knight. I owe no allegiance to the Jedi, so I must confess I have used my powers to my personal gain occasionally, but I am by no means a Sith..."

The explanation wasn't good enough for Zark. Jeremiah disturbed him, and he wasn't so sure about his allegiance in the Force. But Jeremiah hadn't attacked him, and Zark was still technically a Jedi. But even know, he could tell he was falling. Falling fast. Hopefully someone would toss out a rope in time.

But would he grab it?

No. I was destined not to. In fact, by that time no rope was long enough. No rope could reach me. Jeremiah had given me an objective. Slay the Sith responsible for my parent's death, and if they were already dead, well I'd piss on their graves. Jeremiah, without a doubt, intended this. And thats what the grin really meant. You're going down, Ekan. Way down...

I won't lie to you. I did some pretty stupid things. I have...memories...that no man should ever have...I have...seen...and caused death. It wasn't like I had nothing to lose. I had everything to lose, but I just didn't care anymore. All I cared about was my dead parents...

The rain poured down and Zark did nothing to stop it. His body was soaked, countless droplets splashing off of his head and shoulders, running down his body, finding crevices to seep into. The Jedi, if he could be called that anymore, didn't care. The rain was nothing to him anymore. Neither was the sun nor moon. He was a man with only one purpose left in his life, or so he thought. Vengeance.

The lust for vengeance could do some great things, but it could also do many terrible ones. A vengeful man could keep going where any other man would give up and die. But it could also cause him to rush blindly into a fight he could not survive. Vengeance was one of man's greatest strengths and weaknesses all in one.

He checked the ammunition counter on his projectile rifle. One of many he now wore. He was literally armed to the teeth, no longer caring who saw him. His time on this planet was almost complete. He had completed the goal of gathering information he had began, and now he only had one more thing to do. Kill.

The streets were eerily quiet. The usual drunks and hoods who roamed the city at night were gone. A foreboding silence swept through the town. None of this mattered to Zark, who checked out every nook and cranny with the maginified vision of his rifle scope anyway. The night vision scope swept from alley to alley. Steadily making its way until he found what he was looking for.

Impressive, the Jedi thought. It had taken him longer than he had anticipated to find a thug who had not fully concealed himself. Jeremiah had told him the first of the Sith he sought controlled a vast amount of the cities' underground, and he'd go through many common thugs and bandits before he ever got near to the ring-leader.

Zark squeezed off one, two, three shots into the thug's exposed side. The man let out a mangled cry and fell back in a heap. Immediately the street exploded into a blaze of fire. Bullets flew about all around him, and Zark found some cover behind a parked automobile.

The holstered the rifle across his back, and drew out two smaller guns. They were the Ingrams(Oozies) of this world. By now the car was literred with bullet holes, and it was a wonder that he was still alive. But he was, and that was all that mattered. Out he came, blazing away seemingly in all directions at once, using the Force to guide him. Everywhere he turned there was a thug, and everywhere there was a thug there was a dead body a few seconds later.

He made his way across the street, bullets spraying up rain puddles all around him. A machine gun opened up from a window a few stories up. Zark tucked into a roll and came up with his guns blazing at the window. The machine gun fell silent and the tell-tale flash of bullets leaving a muzzle dissapeared.

In what seemed like only two seconds he was finally out of ammo, with no extra clips for that particular type of gun. he tossed them away and pulled back out his rifle. Zark bashed in the door to a pawnshop went upstairs. All it took him was a few seconds to reach the rooftop, and when the door crashed open the two thugs occupying it were very surprised.

A few seconds later, they were very dead.

Zark set up the rifle in a prime position with the most cover the roof could provide without imparing his aim. Thug after thug fell to his rifle, and he seemed to be untouchable. Blaster bolts littered the air around him, many coming within centimeters from him. But none hit. That either said a lot about Zark's power in the Force or very little about the thugs' aim.

Finally a few well placed shots brought Zark back to his senses. The first he barely dodged, and the second grazed his left shoulder. The last served as an exclamation point, flying right in between his legs and into a wall behind him. His rifle was almost spent, and he'd probably need it later on, so it slid back into its holster and the snap-hiss of his lightsaber lit up the rooftop around him.

Blocking countless shots on his way, Zark dove off the roof. He fell short of the rooftop across from him, as he had intended, and used the Force to slow his fall. He landed right in the middle of what seemed to be a thug 'machine gun nest'. His saber arced in a circle around him before any of the thugs could respond. They gaped at him in horror for a few seconds before their top halves slid off from their bottom halves.

After seeing this awesome and deadly display of skill, most of the thugs ran, many of them screaming. Those who didn't were cut down methodically by the enraged Jedi. Finally, after at least a half hour of pure fighting, he was once again alone in the street. Once again, he was on his way to exact his revenge.

That moment, right after that fight, was when I realized that there was no turning back. I had Fallen. For some reason, that didn't hurt as much as it should have. I just didn't care. Looking back on it, I realize that I couldn't have cared. If I had, I would have killed myself...

It is strange how two different people fighting for different ideals might cross on their paths. After falling to the Darkside and losing all hope of being able to do good again, I was still intent upon my purpose. No longer for the good of the people, but for myself. For my family. What is the old saying? "Blood is thicker than water."? Yes. Blood is thicker than water, and I spilt a helluva lot of blood that night.

The man knew he had no hope left, yet he still struggled to breathe. He had been punctured by five bullets, collapsing one of his lungs and puncturing his right kidney. Yet still he gasped on and on, knowing full well he didn't have much time left in this world. Zark was prepared to milk that time for all it was worth.

The Fallen placed one foot upon the man's chest, and began to press down. There was a pop of a rib breaking, and the man gasped in pain, trying vainly to scoop his fluids back into his body. It was a pathetic sight, and Zark wanted to end it there. But he required information.

"Who sent you?" Zark demanded fiercely.

The man continued to gasp, but made no effort to reply.

"WHO SENT YOU?!" Zark bellowed, pressing down harder. Pop! Another cracked rib.

"L-L-L..." the man tried to gasp out.

"Who?!" Pop!

"L-L-Lo-Lor-Lord..."

"Lord...!"

"L-L-Lord He-He-" Pop!, "Argh! L-Lord Hell...Hellfi-fire..."

"Where is he?" Zark asked, managing an air of calmness.

"H-h-he..." Pop, pop!, "Ugh! He..."

The man struggled to pull his hand up. Four fingers (the fifth had apparently been severed) lifted, and three curled back. The remaining one pointed at an abandoned-looking tavern. The Ragnarock.

"Who-" Zark began, but the man had already died.

The Fallen didn't even bother to step over the man, instead simply walking over the corpse's chest. There were a couple more pops as the reamining ribs broke. Blood oozed from countless wounds. Slowly and cautiously Zark crossed the street, but met no resistance. Peering through one of the dirt-stained windows of the Ragnarock, he could not see anyone inside. Zark pushed the door open and stepped out of the rain.

Seemingly abandoned...or not. A man, most likely the bartender, popped out from under the bar, a shotgun-like weapon in his hands. The gun fired, but not at Zark. Instead, the man, or rather, the corpse fired at the ceiling. As he fell back. One of the pistol's rested loosely in Zark's hand. It had been an unconscious act, and the Fallen was a little surprised himself. No matter. He sometimes liked surprises.

Zark stepped over this corpse, stopping only to scoop up the shotgun. He stepped through the door to the back room. There were people here. A lot of people. And all of them were surprised to see him. Surprised to see him walking, that is.

These were the men who had been ordered to guard "Da Bosses" place. The ones who hadn't been outside when the fighting started. At twenty to one odds, Zark didn't exactly blame them for being surprised at his survival. He did blame them, however, for his parent's death. He cocked the shotgun and lifted it.

Crackle, crackle, crackle!

Every man in the room dropped to the floor, convulsing. But Zark had not fired his weapon. The Fallen recognized the waves of purple light coursing throughout their bodies. The purple light of Force Lightning. Another blast flew through the door at the opposite end of the room, blasting Zark back into the tavern proper, and knocking the shotgun from his hands.

Zark stumbled up to a standing position, until he was forced back down by another attack. But this one wasn't physical, but mental. Waves of fear coursed over him, and he felt a fierce urge to run from the tavern, screaming for his life. It was a commonly practised Sith trick, and Zark had encountered it before. Each Jedi had his own way of defeating it. Usually happy memories. But Zark had none.

"I will not fear," he chanted quietly, "Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past me I will turn to see only fear's path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

The waves of fear began to lighten considerably. He found himself to be able to think once more.

"I will not fear!" Zark repeated, louder this time, "Fear is the mind-killer! Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration! I will face my fear! I will permit it to pass over me and through me! And when it has gone past me I will turn to see only fear's path! Where the fear has gone there will be nothing! Only I will remain!"

The fear dissipated almost entirely. Small prickles of it still remained, littered around the room. Zark could think clearly now, and felt a strong Darkside presence nearby, commanding the fear.

"I WILL NOT FEAR!" Zark bellowed, "FEAR IS THE MIND-KILLER! FEAR IS THE-"

"ENOUGH!" Another voice shouted, nearly blasting the Fallen off his feat.

The door to the back room burst open, and off its hinges. Zark had to dive to the side to avoid the flying object. A robed figure walked, no, glided into the room, leaving a trail of black flames behind it. Zark could see into the back room, if it could be called that anymore. It was ablaze with black flame and purple lightning. The corpses of the lackeys lay charred and burned on the floor.

"Darth Hellfire, I presume," Zark managed to keep his cool, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Huh huh huh huh...always a kidder. Like your dear old father!" that stung Zark profoundly, "Even when he died his laughter plagued our ears. And it is you, young Ekan, not me, that burst into the other's home in the middle of the night."

"And it was you, Hellfire," Zark managed to counter, "Not I, that sent his hordes of lackeys out to kill me. They didn't do too good of a job now, did they?"

"Incompetent fools!" Hellfire bellowed, red eyes gleaming out from the hood, "I never once thought they would accomplish their appointed task! I expected as much from a sire of Ekan, especially a Jedi Kight sire of Ekan."

"You seem to know me well, Hellfire," Zark spat at the last word, "But I neither desire nor care about whoever or whatever the hell you are. I came here for one thing only...revenge!"

"Revenge?!" Hellfire echoed, "Such a...non Jedi-like emotion! No, young Ekan! You will learn to know me well. For I am your doom! What my foolish men did do was succeed in exhausting you! Buttering you up for the final blow!"

"Enough talk!" Zark bellowed, igniting his lightsaber, "You're already dead, Hellfire!"

Darth Hellfire ignited his own, red lightsaber, laughing the entire time. The Sith leapt, nearly hitting the ceiling, at Zark, saber high coming low. He didn't even seem to notice it was cutting through the roof. Zark leapt out to meet him, saber low coming high. Both lightsabers met each other in a clash of light.

The fight with Hellfire was the most physically demanding event of my life. His strength alone was enough to pummel me into the ground had I not had the Force with me. Little did I know that the most mentally demanding event of my life would come later that night as well.

Its strange how careless falling to the darkside made me. When I was a Jedi, even when I was a Rogue, I was plagued by important decisions that often decided whether or not I would succumb to the Darkside. But when I was a Fallen Jedi it seemed my path was pre-set for me. I suppose that is one of the lures the Sith of old used to recruit so many young Jedi. But as much as I want to deny it, the duel with Hellfire was one of the most peaceful moments of my life...

The sabers met in mid-air, throwing sparks around the room. The two combatants fell back to the ground, each going into a roll. Somehow, both of them managed to free their sabers from the tangled balls they had become and a few feinting strikes were thrown even when they were curled up. Zark came up panting visibly, but Hellfire's face was hidden beneath his robe.

Zark charged in, screaming. Hellfire glided up to meet him. Their sabers once again clashed. Zark's saber up high angling down and to the left. Hellfire's saber low angling up and to the right. Zark broke off and came in with a straight shot to the side. Hellfire responded by angling his grib on the saber to send the blade portion straight down. Hellfire had not anticipated the feint, however, and Zark angled around his saber and came in with a straight thrust to the stomach.

Somehow, Hellfire managed to get his lightsaber into a parry. An impossible feat, or so Zark had thought. Hellfire was fast. Very fast. He would have to watch for quick strikes.

As if on cue, the Sith came in with a quick jab at Zark's left shoulder, almost catching the Fallen Jedi off guard. Zark stepped back and to the side with his left foot and bent his back backwards until it was parallel to the ground. Using the Force to keep himself in this position and focusing most of his energy on fighting, Zark came in on the offensive while still in the awkward dodging position.

Once, twice, three times their sabers struck until Zark backed off. He went into a backflip and spun around in a three-sixty, his saber coming in at Hellfire's side. But Hellfire wasn't there. Damnit! He had anticipated the attack. Zark went into a flip just in time, for the Sith's saber broke through the floorboards where the Fallen had just been seconds before.

"You're good," Zark gasped out.

"You're not so bad yourself," Hellfire offered, not seeming to be breathing hard at all, "Much like your father. But he wasn't good enough to defeat me, and you know what they say, 'Like father, like son.' Sorry, young Ekan, but you're just not good enough!"

Hellfire came back in...hard. It was all Zark could do to keep the Sith's saber at bay. Left, right, up down, diagonal right, up, up, diagonal left. A blur of movements, their sabers became nearly invisible. It was the dance of death, one of the purest form of saber duels attainable. Usually it was just for show, and done with training sabers to prevent injuries, but this was the real thing. Hellfire was good.

Zark needed to focus. He needed something to keep his mind off of the duel at hand. He began to chant quietly to himself.

"I will not fear," he began, whispering, "Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past me I will turn to see only fear's path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

Hellfire came on harder. Grunting was heard from behind the Sith's cloak. So even this monstrosity had limits, and the dance of death was taking a toll upon them. Zark realized that he couldn't fend the Sith off for much longer, that sooner or later Hellfire would get lucky. And the young Ekan was out of ideas. He was going to die.

But he was going to die trying.

"I will not fear," he began again, his voice rising to a normal voice, "Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past me I will turn to see only fear's path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

Hellfire's attacks began to slow, and Zark thought this strange. Maybe the Sith wanted to toy with him a bit before he died. He wouldn't give the man such a pleasure. Zark would release all of his Force energy, killing himself and hopefully the Sith. The spell for it drifted in the back of his mind, and he struggled to remember.

"I will not fear-"

"STOP IT!" Hellfire bellowed, his voice cracking. He sounded much weaker.

And then Zark got it. The Sith wasn't toying with him. Hellfire's power rested mainly in the mind. He was using the Force to make Zark slower, and make the Fallen think he was becoming weary. Most of his power was in fear, and Zark had released himself from all fear with his chanting. The Sith's spell was wearing off. Zark felt his energy flood back into him. Soon Hellfire was on his heels.

"You're going to die here, Darth," Zark commented, no longer panting, "Do you understand that? You are going to die. You are going to die because you murdered my parents. You are going to die, and I hope you fall into the deepest pits of hell. @#%$ you, Darth Hellfire."

"NO!" Hellfire bellowed, "I AM THE MASTER!"

"Only a master of evil, Darth," Zark said, "You killed my mother, you evil @#%$. You killed my father, you son of a @#%$!"

"Your father?!" Hellfire bellowed, "Your father was-uhhh..."

Hellfire had lent too much of his focus to the conversation. Zark's lightsaber lay embedded down to the hilt into the man's stomach. Blood gushed from the wound, and began to dribble steadily from his mouth. The Sith sunk to his knees, his lightsaber forgotten. He tried desperately to claw at the hilt, but he had no more strength.

"I don't give a @#%$," Zark whispered, "You killed my father, dead man."

Hellfire began to slump down, and his limp body began to fall to the ground. The lightsaber, embedded in the Sith's chest, stayed in its place. it began to cut up through the man's chest. Before, when Zark had been a Jedi, he would've deactivated the lightsaber, or at least pulled it out. But he was no longer a Jedi, and this man, this corpse, had had a hand in killing his father. He revelled in seeing Hellfire be split in two from the waist up.

"@#%$ you, Darth Hellfire..."

Zark spit on the corpse, and walked out of the tavern. He had business elsewhere.

The fight with Hellfire was the most peaceful moment of my life, simply because I did not care whether the man died or not. Rather, I wanted the man to die. It is very strange to duel as a Jedi. The other obviously wants you dead, yet it is against your code to kill him needlessly. I killed Hellfire needlessly, just as I would kill others needlessly before this night was finished. I would have my revenge, whether it was moral or not...

Interlude: Dried Tears and Fresh Bullets

To this day, there is no title, no words to describe my alignment with the Force during that time on the backwater planet with no name and no hope. Everyone can agree I was neither Jedi nor Sith, yet the wisest of Masters cannot tell me what I really was. After years and years of searching, I have finally found the answer.

I was the exception to the rule.

Every Jedi and Sith bases their philosophy, some even their entire lives, on one solid fact: There are no shades of grey. Whether one knows it or not, or one admits it or not, one is either good or evil. That night, I didn't care about purposes or hidden paths or destinies. There was no karma for me.

While others might laugh at me or yell at me, I think that is what kept me alive that night. That sheer balance between light and dark. The drawing of better qualities from each side. It is truly amazing that it took so long for someone to discover such a vast wealth of power and balance. The Jedi and Sith have spent their entire existances trying to decide once and for all who is better. Each trying to eliminate each other.

I understand now that that is the worst possible solution to the "problem". To kill off one side, Jedi or Sith, is to upset the balance. To upset the balance could wipe all traces of the Force off the face of the galaxy. Everything requires balance, and the Force is no exception.

So is it really truthful to say I am an exception to the rule?

I suppose not. Better to say that I am a redefinition of the rule. And that is the amazing thing about the sentient beings of the galaxy. They can spend so much time on the same path that they lose sight of what is truth and what is impossible. There is such thing as a side in between, but it is unattainable for any extended period of time.

Which would explain why I began to quickly slip toward the darkside immediately after...but no. I am getting ahead of myself. Back to the story.

Roland. Roland Deschain. It had been the alias he had gone by during his stay at the backwater planet with no name. But no, Roland was much more than a mere false identification. Zark had created a whole life for the man, and in his weakened emotional state, it was getting the best of him. He was going insane.

But not in a bad way. Whenever people think of the insane, they think of lunies locked up in asylums ranting and raving about how they can fly or banging themselves against padded walls. This was a different type of insanity. Zark had heard about it on a few datapads. It was called MPd. Multiple personality disorder.

Roland was real, but at the same time he was fake. Zark knew he was fake. Unfortunately for him, Roland did not. Roland thought himself to be very alive. And he wasn't taking too kindly to the sudden invasion of privacy. Zark couldn't blame him.

Who the fuck are you?! Roland screamed, Get the fuck out of my head!

Your head? Zark asked, managing to keep his calm, This is my head.

Bull@#%$! the new personality screamed, This is my head!

Zark realized he was moving. They were moving. In no apparent direction, but they were still moving. Roland had partial control over his limbs. Definitely not good. Zark still had a job to do, and Roland could become a problem.

Job? What job? Roland asked.

Nevermind, Zark said, I hope you understand that we're in a lot of @#%$ here.

Of course I realize that, mother@#%$!, Roland nearly yelled back, Somehow you've invaded my body!

No, I didn't, Zark thought, sighing in exasperation, You aren't real! I made you up months ago when I first came to this planet!

Oh great, Roland muttered, Not only has my mind been invaded, but invaded by a loony!

If I'm insane, you are too, Zark thought, After all, you're talking to yourself.

Fuck you, loony, Roland thought back, Lets focus on seperating our asses back into our respective bodies, okay.

No time, Zark thought, This has to be finished tonight.

What has to be finished tonight? Roland thought, confused, Does this have something to do with your "job".

Kind of, Zark thought back, If you know of any job that involved killing.

You're a hitman?! Roland thought, surprised.

What? No! Zark nearly yelled, It isn't for profit. The reward is much more valuable. Sweet revenge.

Careful, loony-man, Roland muttered, but nothing escaped Zark's "ears" in the strange "mind-talk", You might find the dinner of revenge to be more bitter than sweet.

Bitter or sweet, it has to be done, Zark replied.

Why? What happened to you? What did your enemies do that would make you want to kill them?

Zark wondered if he could transfer memories as well as thoughts through their mind-talk. Hopefully so.

Get ready, Mr. Deschain, Zark warned, If I'm right, this could feel a little...weird.

How do you know my na- Roland broke off in mid word as Zark began to transfer his memories to the alter ego.

I...I see, Roland replied, In this case, I respect your vendetta of honor.

Vendetta of honor? Zark asked, What are you-

The transfer was something unlike anything Zark had ever experienced. Roland had apparently figured out how to transfer his own thoughts. Apparently, the man didn't feel the need to warn him.

After he had gotten over the sudden vertigo-type sensation of the mind-transfer, Zark found that Roland's history was extraordinarily detailed. Much more than the small little bio Zark had created for the man on one boring night.

Roland had been, in his memories, a "Gunslinger". They were the police officers of the backwater planet with no name. It was much more rugged and Old Westish, however. Apart from the projectile weaponry, which was surprisingly effective despite what history books in the Jedi Library had had to say, the Gunslinger's had rather strict but fair laws, and a code of honor. The "vendetta of honor" was just one of these.

But most importantly of all, Roland had been amazingly skilled with the revolver. With the transfer of fictional character to actual personality had come the man's knowledge and skill with the weapon. It was an amazing experience, Zark thought, to have learned such an ancient craft in a matter of seconds. Even moreso than the vertigo of thought-transfer.

Zark had unintentionally become a Gunslinger.

Fallen Tears and Bullet Shells - Act Two: The Gunslinger

I had forsaken the ways of the Jedi. I had forsaken everything I had ever known...my position, my morales, my friends, my innocence...and yet, Roland never judged me. He understood my reasons and understood what I had to do. It might have been because my mind had created him, but I do not believe so. I believe it was merely not in Roland's character to judge me like that, especially since we "knew" each other's pasts completely, down to the last detail. He was more than a tool that I used to improve my fighting abilities, he was my friend. Maybe my only friend...

The rain poured down all around them and onto them, but neither cared. One hand rested upon the butt of a revolver, the other rested upon the hilt of a lightsaber. One foot after another, the two-in-one combination trudged across the town, daring anyone foolish enough to oppose them. Fortunately for the residents, nobody came, but the Darkside was pulsing strongly within him, and Zark still hungered for vengeance.

"Just don't let that get a strong hold upon you, Zark," Roland spoke through their mouth, making it seem as if he was muttering to himself.

"I know what I'm doing," Zark replied, muttering as well, "I've been in more situations like this than most of the Jedi Order."

"But thats my point, Zark," Roland muttered back, "You aren't a Jedi anymore. You've become something else, something volatile."

"Only to my enemies," the Fallen flatly stated, ending the conversation.

The two of them trudged on, and for a while at least Zark didn't feel so lonely anymore. The Darkside, however, grew steadily in the back of his thoughts, and the ever-present fact that he could go mad with hatred at any time haunted his steps. Roland delayed that, but delays remain delays, no matter how good they are with guns.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Roland asked, for the first time noticing his surroundings.

"To the most likely place for a Sith to hide out," Suddenly they both stopped, and Zark no longer had to say anything to the Gunslinger. He did anyway, though, just for affect, "A church."

And indeed it was a church they stood before. The only church the town had, for the entire of the tiny, Outer-Rim planet had but one religion. The church itself was very large. It stood upon a hill overlooking the entire village. The rain and occasional flashing lightning added for an abandoned-looking effect, making it all-the-more likely to be the hideout of whoever Zark had to kill.

They began to take another step toward the church when Zark's Force radar and Roland's instincts kicked in simultaneously. The raised foot, instead of moving forward, swung up and back, propelling the Fallen Jedi into a backward roll. Rifle fire tore up the ground where Zark would have been standing had he continued onward. A shadowy figure toating a gun-shaped object bolted from his dark hiding place and made a run for the church entrance.

Zark's right hand fell upon his lightsaber, but Roland was the faster. He 'came forward' halfway, controlling the left half of Zark's body. A revolver was out of its holster and into his left hand in an instant, and an instant later the gun fired. The shadowy figure tumbled like a sack of bricks a few feet before the church doors. There was no doubt in their shared minds that the man was dead. He wasn't even twitching.

"Nice shot," Zark commented, more than a little impressed.

"Thanks."

As they came upon his body they found nothing special. He carried nothing within his coat and pants pockets, and there was no other sign of identification anywhere on his body. Neither of them recognized the man, no surprise there. Zark lifted up the rifle he had been carrying, and popped out the clip. It was half empty, and the man's aim had been better than average. If they had noticed him half a second later, they'd probably be dead. Zark tossed the rifle aside, for it was too heavy to be carried and wielded easily, and Roland wasn't fond of the larger projectiles, like most of the Gunslingers that patrolled the town.

"After you," Roland said.

The door creaked open much too loudly for either of the men's comfort. They stepped inside the pitch black of the church, and Zark used the Force to enhance his vision. The two had been expecting many things beyond the door of the church, but neither of them had been expecting an empty building. There was nobody there. Nothing. Zark reached out with the Force. No presence, but that wasn't too much of a surprise. The Sith were notorious for being able to mask their Force presences. It was the only thing that had kept Emperor Palpatine off of the Old Republic Jedi's radar long enough to kill them.

"Hmm..." was all Zark managed to say.

CREEEAAAAKKK!

"What was that?" Roland asked.

"Shhh!" Zark said.

The Fallen Jedi slowly walked down the aisle of the church, and it was not long before they both realized what the noise had been. Right in front of the altar, the church floor dissapeared! Upon closer inspection, Zark realized that part of the floor had slid back into a compartment under the altar, revealing a stairway down into a tunnel under the church. Zark raised his eyebrow, as if questioning what his eyes were telling him.

"Funny...I never noticed that during mass..." Roland offered meekly.

Zark began to descend the stairs, but his was quickly stopped as Roland came forward.

"Hey!"

"Woah woah woah," Roland said, "Lets not be too hasty here. Who knows what kind of booby traps are down there."

"Roland," Zark replied, sighing, "I know the Sith. I've been fighting them my whole life. Believe me, this one won't jeapordize a good fight just because some Jedi was too stupid to check for booby traps. He wants us to come to him."

"You sure?" Roland asked, "Because I'm not getting myself killed because some guy from another planet misjudged his enemy."

"I'm sure," Zark said, grinning, "Now, can I have control of my body back?"

There was a short pause, and then Zark felt the control of his limbs coming back to him. Once again, he began to descend the stairs and into the secret catacombs under the church that Roland Deschain had never noticed during mass.

As I walked through those tunnels, I had no idea what to expect at the end. Whatever it was, however, I was more than prepared to kill it. If it had not been for Roland, I would've rushed blindly through the catacombs and would've likely been killed more than easily by whatever Sith that awaited me. Roland gave me strength, and I will forever remember him for that.

A Man walked into the Tavern
he was dressed in loose armor and a giant sniper rifle slung on his back
two gleaming handguns strapped to his hips

" i need info and a drink" he said to the Bardroid

then he pulled one of his handguns and pointed it to the droid's head unit

" Now or have a bullet in your mother board" his finger tight on the trigger

a gleam of light was shot but not into the droid, onto his old metal blade called a Katana

" you messed with the wrong person bub" and he shot the gal who fired the shot

What was wrong with me? You might be asking that right now. I mean, if I was falling to the Darkside, and knew I was falling to the Darkside, shouldn't I have tried to escape? No, it doesn't work like that. The Darkside doesn't seduce you. The concept of the Darkside seduces you. The concept of a world without rules and boundaries seduces you. But most of all, the lust for revenge seduces you. Was I seduced? Yes. Did I want it? Yes. Do I regret it? Hell yes.

They had been travelling for hours, and Zark's feet were beginning to tire. The torch-light played tricks upon the eyes in the dimly-lit corridors, and twice Roland could have sworn he had seen eyes peering out at him. Zark sensed danger as well, but it was most likely just the intense Darkside aura that had tainted the Church and its catacombs.

Are we there yet? Roland asked...again...

No. Zark replied...again...

Are we there yet?

No.

Are we there yet?

No.

Are we there yet?

Yes.

Really? Roland asked, surprised. He used Zark's eyes to peer off into the distance.

No.

Oh... Roland muttered quietly, if one could mutter with their thoughts, Are we there yet?

Roland? Zark asked.

Yeah?

Shut the fuck up. Zark stated calmly, and that ended the conversation.

They continued walking, having no ideas whether or not they were going in circles. Actually, Zark had an idea, but it wasn't the better of the two. Neither of them had noticed any turns in the catacombs, but that didn't necessarily mean that there hadn't been. Zark was almost asleep on his feet anyway, and Roland was beginning to tire. They couldn't keep this up for long.

"What if we went down the wrong tunnel?" Roland asked aloud, his voice breaking the silence and casting creepy echoes about them.

"Impossible..." Zark replied after the echoes subsided, "I can sense the Sith's force aura from here."

"Yeah, but what if-"

"Shh!" Zark hissed under his breath, dropping instinctively into a primal crouch.

A lightsaber flashed out and came to life in his right hand, a revolver drawn in the left. To anyone watching their behavior would seem weird, for it looked like someone controlled one side, but an entirely different person controlled the other. They would have been correct. Not even Zark's eyes seemed to be in sync, for they behaved like a reptiles would. One went one way, and another went the other. If anyone had been watching it would have looked like there were two people in one person's body.

And someone was watching.

Five vornskrs stalked out from the cover of the shadows, forming a rough circle around the two-in-one duo. Zark cursed at himself for not noticing them sooner. The creatures hunted with the Force, so they should have been easy enough to sense. But no, he had been blinded by the Darkside. Unfortunately, he didn't see that trait of his ending anytime soon.

Without warning a vornskr lept, and a revolver blew a hole in one of its legs. In instant, the others pounced as well. Zark and Roland had had time to perfect their combat skills together. Each move one made complimented the other's. A lightsaber kept them at bay, a revolver sent them running. All the time Roland muttered his chant...

"I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father."

A vornskr leapt, a lightsaber cut it in half.

"I aim with my eye."

One of the beasts had snuck around back. It lunged. Somehow, Roland managed to twirl his revolver around and sneak a finger up to fire. He shot blindly, and the creature's head was blown off.

"I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father."

On impulse, Zark kicked out, sending a vornskr slamming back-first into a wall. Before it could slide or fall down, the former Jedi impaled it with his lightsaber. Roland held off the others with random revolver rounds.

"I shoot with my mind."

Another shot, this one aimed, rang out. It grazed an attacking beast's chin as it lunged for them, but it did not miss its intended mark. The heart.

"I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father."

The dead beast would have slid into them, possibly catching them against the wall, had Zark not used the Force to enhance his jump. He also jumped forward, and came down with his lightsaber. The blade sliced through the last vornskr. Two sides fell, the spinal cord sliced neatly in half.

"I kill with my heart." Roland finished, panting slightly. The adrenaline killed most of the exhaustion, however, "Why do you think they were here? Oh, and what are they?"

"These are....were vornskrs," Zark replied, not panting at all, "They hunt using the Force, and I suppose they were here to keep someone out. But who?"

"Maybe that Jeremiah guy you met earlier?"

"Of course," Zark said, grinning, "Both Mr. Bettis and the Sith have been here for quite some time. It is unlikely that they were unaware of his presence. These vornskr were probably here to keep him out in case he got too far. And you know what that means."

"Yeah," Roland replied, smiling. His smile slowly faded, "No."

"It means we're close," Zark said, slightly exasperated at his companion.

"But close to what?" Roland asked.

"I don't know."

Why would Sith need five vornskrs to protect themselves from Jeremiah Bettis? Surely they could handle him themselves. And even so, did they really think vornskrs would stop him? These are questions I should have been asking himself...would have been asking myself had I not been so bent upon killing them, exacting my revenge upon my father, to care. I didn't...no, I have to stop lying to myself. I did realize that I was becoming just like them. I just...I just didn't care...