Saturday, October 1, 2016

Star Wars Endgame: Finale, Chapter Twenty-One

PART III: THE AVENGING
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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
--Seventeen years ago--
    "Last one there has to polish Uncle's speeder!"

    The young boy scowled as he ran after his brother, barreling through the bazaar. Denizens threw things and words at him as he bumped into them but he paid them no heed. His mind was too focused on the chase to care.

    His brother always won these little races. He was taller, leaner, and more athletic than he was, thanks to all the training Uncle had given him. Training which the younger boy never got.

    It wasn't fair. Nothing ever was.

    He soon got out of the bazaar and into a clearing. A narrow rocky pavement cut through the green field, serving as a pathway to the village several miles ahead. Down the path, he could see his brother waving mockingly at him, a wicked grin on his face.

    "Can't say I've seen someone so slow!" he jeered. "A drunk Kitonak could outrun you!"

    Gritting his teeth, the boy pressed on, even through his legs were starting to protest. As the path went on, it started to go up a steep hill, over which the village laid beyond. Despite having gone up it countless times before, he found it a very strenuous task this time, his legs feeling as if they were about to give out.

    Not paying too much attention to where he was stepping, his foot caught in one of the rocks and he lost his balance. Flailing his arms, he let out a wail as he fell backwards, landing on his back and tumbling down the hill. Since he hadn't gotten that far up, it didn't take him long to reach the bottom. All the same, his whole body ached and he found it impossible to get up.

    He called out his brother's name, hollering as loud as he could. He heard a voice -- it might have been his sibling's -- yell back, but he couldn't make out what he was saying. He waited a minute before calling out again. No response came back this time. Neither did his brother.

    In the sky above, clouds were starting to block the sun. Big clouds, dark and gray. He felt a drop of water fall on his nose. Then another. Then another.

    Before he knew it, the sky was unleashing its aqueous wrath on him. Rain pelted onto his face, soaking his head and causing him to cough. This was it. He was done for. Life truly was unfair.

    Just as he was about to reign himself to his fate, he suddenly felt himself being lifted up by a pair of strong arms, a towel being thrown over his head. At first he thought it was Uncle, or even one of Uncle's friends, who were known to hike out here.

    Then his savior spoke and he knew for sure it wasn't either of them.

    "One should not lie out here in the rain." The man's voice was deep and gruff; not an unpleasant sound, but certainly not melodious. Peeking through the towel, he could only see a black hood covering the stranger's face.

    "I... fell down the hill," the boy said, uncertain of whether he could trust this man. "I hurt myself and I couldn't get up."

    "Oh dear, we should probably get you to safety. Is your home far from here?"

    "No, it's just over the hill. My brother's probably already there." The boy frowned to himself, lowering his gaze. "He probably forgot about me."

    "Mm, yes. Siblings can be selfish sometimes. Are your parents home?"

    "We live with our uncle. Our father died a long time ago, and our mother... she left to go on a business trip and never came back."

    "I'm sorry to hear that. But your uncle cares for you?"

    "Yeah," the boy replied, unsure of why he was telling all this to a man he didn't even know. "I mean, I guess he does. He always seems to like my brother."

    "How so?" the man asked, finally starting to move uphill.

     The boy told him the rest of the way, explaining how Uncle always took his brothers fishing, swimming, hunting, but not do the same for him. Or how on his birthday he would only get a card and a piece of candy while his brother got his own Skyhopper, despite not even owning a license or being old enough to fly one.

    The more he told the man, the angrier he started to become. Angry at his uncle for neglecting him. Angry at his brother for absorbing all of the attention. Angry at his mother for not being there when he needed her the most. 

    The man had said nothing until they reached the front porch of his home. He gently put the boy on his feet and, much to the young one's surprise, his back no longer hurt. It was as if something had magically healed him.

    Draping the towel over his head, the boy looked up at the man and said, "Thanks for bringing me home. I probably would have died out here."

    "Think nothing of it. Oh, and before I go...." The man knelt down and handed the boy a cylindrical object. "For whenever your brother or uncle get on your nerves. It'll... give them a lesson."

    The boy looked at the item oddly. "What is it?"

    "You will know once you turn it on. And you will know how to use it."

    With some hesitation, the boy took the object. As the man straightened up and turned to leave, the boy then said, "Wait! I didn't get your name."

    The man looked back at him. "I didn't get yours."

    "Varon," the boy said, surprised at himself for how quickly he answered. "My name's Varon."

    The man said nothing at first, the rain molding his hood against his face. When he finally did speak, the boy could have sworn he saw a smile underneath the fabric.

    "Call me Kalon."
--Now--
    "Master?"

    Yellow eyes opened at the sound of the servant's voice. Not moving from where he laid, the master said, "What is it, Sao?"

    "The destination we have arrived. Ship landing as we talk."

    "Very good. I'll be ready shortly."

    He waited until he heard the tiny feet walk away from the door before sitting up. Getting out of bed, he dressed himself in his old attire: dark gray tunic and pants with a black robe and shoulder pads over them. He had left his armor and mask behind on the Resurgent. He would not need them here.

   Stepping out of his bunker, he made his way to the cockpit, where a pilot droid was at the controls. In the viewport, growing larger by the second, was the green agriworld he had been born on, where he had lived his life before everything changed.

    Damosus. Fourth planet of the Tralon system.

    This was where it had all begun for Varon Krul. And it would be where it all ended.

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