Star Wars:The Apprentice

The journey back to Varko's hideout was filled with tense silence. Rhyas Tarren didn't speak, and I had no interest in conversation. The man had been lucky—I could have killed him and taken what I needed, but I was patient. Or at least, I was trying to be. 

But my patience was wearing thin. 

This entire mission had been nothing but delays, obstacles, and distractions. I wasn't here to play games or dance around politics. I had one goal: to find Zarlin Kane and be done with this. 

As we stepped back into the dimly lit cantina where I first met Varko, I could already feel my irritation rising. The stench of alcohol and unwashed bodies, the low murmur of voices, the same useless scum who had watched me the first time—all of it grated on my nerves. 

Varko was lounging in his seat, feet kicked up on the table, drink in hand. He looked up, a smirk forming on his lips as he saw Tarren. 

"Well, well, well," he drawled. "Didn't think you'd actually pull it off." 

I stepped forward, my expression unreadable. "I held up my end of the deal." 

Varko nodded, setting his drink down. "Yeah, you did. And that's why I've got another job for you—" 

That was it. That was the moment I snapped. 

Before he could even finish, my hand shot to my belt, and in an instant, my lightsaber ignited—a flash of crimson light cutting through the cantina's dim glow. 

A single swing. 

The sound of sizzling flesh. 

Varko screamed as his severed arm hit the table with a wet thud. 

The cantina erupted into chaos. Patrons scrambled back, chairs clattering to the floor, blasters being drawn— 

But they never got the chance. 

I extended my free hand, letting the dark side flow through me, and suddenly the entire room was choking. 

Men and women alike clutched at their throats, eyes wide with terror as I lifted them into the air. Their legs kicked, their fingers clawed, but it was useless. Their lives were in my hands, and I could end them all with just a thought. 

The pressure in the room became suffocating. Varko was gasping, his remaining hand clawing at his throat, his eyes bulging in disbelief. 

"You think I'm here to run errands for you?" My voice was cold, sharp, filled with a barely contained fury. "I've played along long enough." 

I tightened my grip, feeling their pulses flicker under my power. 

"You will take me to Kane," I said, my voice low, venomous. "Or I'll make sure this planet runs red with your blood." 

Varko tried to speak, but he could barely breathe. His face was turning purple, his body shaking in agony. 

I didn't release him. Not yet. I let the silence stretch, let the fear sink into the minds of every single person in this room. 

Then, finally, I loosened my grip—just enough for him to gasp out a response. 

"O-Okay," he wheezed. "Okay… I'll take you to him." 

I waited a moment longer, then let the others drop. They hit the ground in coughing, gasping heaps, clutching at their throats, too terrified to even think about retaliating. 

Varko, clutching his bleeding stump of an arm, nodded frantically. "T-Tonight," he stammered. "I can arrange it tonight." 

I deactivated my lightsaber, the red glow vanishing. 

"Then do it." 

I turned, stepping away from the terrified, broken figures on the floor, my patience finally at its limit. 

No more games. No more delays. 

Tonight, I would finally meet Zarlin Kane.

The moment I stepped into the darkened chamber, I knew something was wrong. 

Varko had led me deep into the city's underbelly, into an abandoned industrial complex reeking of rust and old oil. It was the perfect place for a meeting—isolated, away from prying eyes. But the silence was too perfect. The air was too still. 

Something was off. 

I took slow, measured steps forward, my senses sharp, my muscles coiled with tension. The only light came from the dim, flickering overhead lamps, casting long, jagged shadows across the floor. 

Then, a voice. 

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd actually come." 

I turned, eyes narrowing as a figure stepped from the shadows. 

Zarlin Kane. 

He wasn't what I expected. He wasn't a Jedi, nor a Sith. He wasn't even some ancient warrior cloaked in mystery. He was just a man. Older, weathered, dressed in a mix of tactical armor and a long dark coat. His piercing amber eyes locked onto me with a gaze that was unsettlingly calm. 

"I hear you've been looking for me," he said, his voice smooth, unreadable. 

I didn't answer. Instead, I took another step forward. 

And then I felt it. 

Movement. 

I twisted just as the first shot rang out. 

The loud *crack* of a slug thrower echoed through the room, and I barely dodged in time, the bullet grazing past my ribs. Another shot—then another. I moved fast, sidestepping, flipping backward as the air was filled with deadly projectiles. 

It wasn't blaster fire. It wasn't something I could easily deflect. 

They were using slug throwers. 

Metal projectiles, propelled by combustion. If I tried to block them with my lightsaber, they'd melt on impact, turning into molten slag that would still tear through me. 

I gritted my teeth. 

Of course, it was a trap. 

From the shadows, they emerged—Mandalorians, bounty hunters, mercenaries. Some in full beskar armor, others in pieced-together gear, but all of them well-armed and well-trained. At least a dozen of them, positioned strategically, weapons already firing. 

I darted between cover, my lightsaber igniting with a snap-hiss. Not to block, but to strike. 

I had to move. Had to be fast. 

The first bounty hunter lunged at me, vibroblade in hand. I sidestepped, severing his arm in a single slash before kicking him away. Another came from my right—I ducked, using the Force to rip his legs out from under him before finishing him with a quick stab. 

More gunfire. More bullets. I leapt high, twisting midair, using the Force to propel myself behind a row of crates. The moment I landed, I reached out—grabbing one of the hunters in an invisible grip. 

With a flick of my wrist, I sent him flying into the path of incoming bullets. 

Screams. The sickening sound of flesh and bone being torn apart. 

I clenched my jaw. My anger was growing. My frustration was boiling over. 

This was a waste of time. 

A sharp pain suddenly shot through my left shoulder—I had barely moved in time, but a bullet still managed to graze me. 

I snarled, whirling around, reaching out with the Force— 

And *crushed* the shooter's throat in an instant. 

He collapsed, gurgling, his blaster falling from his hands. 

I could feel the dark side pulsing within me, urging me forward. Urging me to *kill*. 

But there were still too many of them. I needed to be smarter. 

I reached out again—this time grabbing hold of the entire battlefield with my mind. The crates, the debris, the bodies—I *lifted* them, sending them flying, creating chaos and confusion. 

Then I moved. 

I was on them before they could react, cutting through the next mercenary, then the next. A Mandalorian fired a wrist rocket—I deflected it midair, sending it careening into a group of his allies. The explosion rocked the room, smoke filling the air. 

Through the haze, I saw Kane. 

He was standing still, watching, analyzing. 

This wasn't a fight to him. 

It was a test. 

And I had no intention of playing along. 

With a furious burst of speed, I surged forward, cutting through the last few hunters standing between us. My body ached, my shoulder burned, but I didn't care. 

I was *done* with this. 

I lunged, my crimson blade slashing toward his throat— 

Only to hit *nothing*. 

He moved faster than I expected, twisting away with an agility that shouldn't have been possible. I swung again—he ducked. He didn't fight back. He just *dodged*. 

And then, as quick as lightning, he reached into his coat— 

And threw something at my feet. 

A sharp *hiss*. 

Gas. 

I coughed, my vision blurring for just a moment—just long enough for him to vanish into the smoke. 

I let out a frustrated snarl, waving my hand to clear the air. But by the time the gas dissipated, he was gone. 

The room was silent again. The bodies of his men lay scattered around me, blood pooling beneath them. 

And I was left standing alone, my fury simmering. 

Zarlin Kane had set a trap for me. 

And I had walked right into it.

(3rd Person POV)

The air was thick with smoke and the stench of blood. Adam stood amidst the carnage, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, his fingers clenched so tightly around his lightsaber hilt that his knuckles had turned white. His anger boiled over, spilling into every fiber of his being. 

He had been played. 

Like a fool. 

With a furious roar, he swung his lightsaber at the nearest wall, the crimson blade carving deep, molten gashes into the durasteel. Sparks showered around him as he slashed again—and again—each strike fueled by the rage festering inside him. 

"*I was treated like an idiot!*" he snarled, his voice echoing through the chamber. He swung his blade with enough force to send chunks of the wall flying. "*A damn fool!*" Another strike. His breathing was erratic now, his teeth bared. "*Not anymore!*" 

His anger was a storm, a relentless tempest that demanded destruction. His master had sent him here to learn, to prove himself. And yet, Kane had *mocked* him, toyed with him, slipping through his fingers as if he were nothing but an insignificant annoyance. 

His blade hissed as it met steel once more, and for a moment, all that could be heard was the crackling hum of the Sith weapon. 

Then—movement. 

A faint, wheezing sound. 

Adam's head snapped to the side, eyes burning with fury as he spotted a Rodian bounty hunter attempting to crawl away. The alien dragged himself forward with one arm, his other clutching a deep wound in his side, leaving behind a slick trail of dark blood. His breathing was labored, pained. 

Pathetic. 

Adam's anger coiled into something sharper, something more focused. 

He stalked forward, his boots echoing against the floor, his crimson blade casting a haunting glow over the Rodian's terrified face. The bounty hunter whimpered, trying to inch away faster, but Adam was already upon him. 

The Sith crouched down, gripping the Rodian by the back of his head and *slamming* his face into the floor. The alien let out a pained yelp, squirming beneath Adam's hold, but he had no strength left to fight back. 

"Where is he?" Adam's voice was low, dangerous. 

The Rodian choked, gasping as Adam pressed harder, his fingers digging into the alien's skull. "P-Please… I-I don't—" 

Pain. 

A scream tore from the Rodian's throat as Adam reached out with the Force, clutching the bounty hunter's mind in an invisible vice. 

The Sith apprentice twisted, not enough to kill—no, that would be too merciful—but enough to send searing pain lancing through the Rodian's skull. The alien convulsed, clawing at the ground, his eyes wide with agony. 

"Where is *Kane*?" Adam demanded, his voice ice-cold. 

"I—I don't—" The Rodian sobbed, his words dissolving into screams as Adam tightened his grip, pouring more of his rage into the Force. 

"I *won't* ask again." 

Tears streamed down the bounty hunter's face, his entire body trembling. He gasped for breath, his mind on the brink of shattering. "S-South—*south sector*! An—an old refinery—b-back entrance—*please!*" 

Adam's grip loosened just slightly. The Rodian panted, chest heaving, his entire body quaking in the aftermath of the pain. He looked up at Adam, pleading. 

"I—I told you what you wanted! Please—" 

Adam didn't let him finish. 

With a flick of his wrist, his lightsaber slashed through the bounty hunter's throat. 

The Rodian gurgled, a choked sound of horror escaping him as he collapsed, lifeless. Blood pooled beneath his body, spreading across the floor. 

Adam exhaled slowly, his fury still simmering, but now sharpened. 

He had a location. 

Kane wouldn't escape him again.

Adam stormed through the ruins of the industrial sector, his mind a storm of violence and purpose. The information had been given to him—*an old refinery, south sector*—and now there was nothing stopping him from reaching Kane. His fury had settled into something colder, more deliberate. Every step he took echoed through the desolate streets, his lightsaber hilt gripped tightly in his hand. 

Then, his commlink crackled to life. 

The moment he felt the presence behind the transmission, he dropped to one knee, lowering his head. The red glow of the holoprojector ignited before him, and the hooded visage of *Darth Sidious* materialized. 

"*My apprentice.*" Sidious' voice slithered through the comms, a quiet hum of amusement laced within. "Have you met with Kane yet?" 

Adam kept his head bowed, his voice steady. "*I have, Master. He is testing me. But I will show him the full power of the dark side and destroy him.*" 

There was silence for a moment. Then, Sidious chuckled. 

"*No,*" his voice was sharp now, commanding. "You will not kill him." 

Adam's jaw clenched, but he did not argue. He listened. 

Sidious continued, his tone smooth, calculated. "Kane will be *an asset.* I have foreseen his potential—his connections, his skills. They will serve us well." The Sith Lord's eyes gleamed beneath the shadow of his hood. "Find him. *Break* him. And bring him to our facility on Coruscant it is time me and this Kane finally meet." 

Adam lifted his head slightly, absorbing the weight of the command. "*You wish to turn him into a pawn.*" 

A sinister smile spread across Sidious' face. "Indeed." 

Adam exhaled slowly, then nodded. "*It will be done, my master.*" 

The transmission cut out, leaving the Sith apprentice alone in the darkened street, bathed in the crimson glow of his lightsaber. Slowly, he rose to his feet, his eyes burning with the color of the dark side—yellow, sharp, and filled with a terrifying resolve. 

If his master wanted Kane alive, he would bring him alive. 

But *everyone else* inside that refinery? 

They would *burn.* 

Adam strode forward, his grip tightening around his lightsaber. The refinery loomed ahead, an ominous structure against the night sky. He could sense them inside—*bounty hunters, mercenaries, criminals.* Filth. They would try to stop him. They would try to protect Kane. 

It wouldn't matter. 

He was *done* playing games. 

He was *done* being tested. 

He would carve his way through every last one of them. 

And if Kane refused to submit? 

Then Adam would sever every limb from his body and *drag* him to Coruscant. 

He ignited his blade. 

And walked into the slaughter.