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KYBER-PUNK 22BBY S-INTERLUDE
🕑 Added 2025-02-19 00:21:40 +0000 UTC— Dooku —
Nar Shaddaa, Dooku of Seranno found, had never been to his tastes. It was a quagmire of ‘crime’, debased depravity, and ill-earned egos. Hutt Space bore its corruption on the surface without even the tiniest effort to hide it. A despicable thing in Dooku’s mind. And at the center of it all, Dooku despised few things like he despised the Smuggler’s Moon.
As much as he loathed to admit it, the Republic was objectively ‘better’ than Hutt Space. In theory, at least. In practice, the two regions of the galaxy weren’t so far apart. Different rulers, and different ‘laws’, but still, all of the real power was in the hands of a select caste. The ‘rightfully elected’ Senators for the Republic and the ‘rightfully born’ Hutts for Hutt Space.
Neither earned the power they laid claim to, in Dooku’s mind. Democracy had become a poor mandate. The people of the Outer Rim Territories didn’t elect their Senators. Often, planets and systems weren’t even spared individual Senators there. Just the wider sectors, so those Senators could claim to lord themselves over billions like their peers in the Core.
Even in the Core, the average person had no weight in the Republic’s ‘free elections’. Coreward Senators were elected — truly elected — by other Senators. By planetary administrators. And more and more often, even by corporations, criminal syndicates, and other painfully corruptible outside institutions.
On the other side, the less said about the Hutts’ ‘divine mandate’, the better. They, at least, didn’t pretend to be anything they weren’t. But that wasn’t something worthy of praise. In Hutt Space, a Hutt — any Hutt — was born with the potential for power. It was a matter of species and nothing else.
Anyone other than a Hutt was merely a pretender playing at power in their ‘rightful’ domain. The Hutts of Old might’ve earned that domain through conquest and force, but the Hutts of Now merely languished in that ancient wake.
Once either side had grasped their power, they only continued to disappoint. Those at the top did nothing for those at the bottom. Immediately, they would become invested and obsessed with the games of that power. Corruption and politicking were the same in the Senate and between the Hutt Clans. They saw only their immediate area, their immediate power, and on both sides of that galactic divide, the greater masses were left to waste and wither. It was a club, and the vast, vast majority of the galaxy wasn’t in it.
Those in power loathed to share their slice of the galactic pie — be they Senator or Hutt. Systemic workings that served those at the top had long since been put in place across all of the galaxy. They were the ‘natural order’. Power ensured power and left little room for entrance. To disrupt them would be to lift a planet without a fulcrum. Which, of course, made it all the more interesting when someone began to do just that…
Atom ‘Smasher’ seemed to be a man after Dooku’s own heart. A prime example of his personal philosophy toward power. Power was seized. Not ‘elected’, not ‘born’. Seized. Fought for and clawed into existence. Won. And if a man was to rule over others, he ought to be able to look them in the eyes. To know them and to defend the mandate he claimed in one way or another.
Or as Asajj so quaintly put it: “If you’re going to talk the talk, best be able to walk the walk.”
Of course, to be worthy of power after it was won was another thing entirely. In truth, Dooku didn’t believe it existed — a man ‘worthy’ of power. All men were worthy. All men were not.
Give a ‘good man’ power, and perhaps he would abuse it. Give an ‘evil man’ power, and perhaps he would find duty and responsibility. The only thing ‘worthy of power’, Dooku thought, was the journey of winning, losing, or maintaining it.
The reality was never so black and white as some would make it out to be. Not even the Force, though Sith and Jedi alike would vehemently declare otherwise. It was perhaps the only thing the two sects would agree on, solely because the lie served them both equally well. But the grays in between were where power truly thrived.
Dooku liked to think he dipped into that gray area. He’d been raised by the Light. He’d fallen to the Dark — dangerously at first, but eventually regaining control. Something his ‘Master’ seemingly hadn’t realized.
There was no denying that Dooku was on the Darker end of the Force spectrum. But he was there of his own volition. On his terms, no matter what ‘victories’ Sidious assumed to have won over him. Sidious took advantage of his fall. He was far from the sole cause and controller of it as he believed himself to be.
So it was, Dooku’s lifelong journey through the Force couldn’t be so strictly categorized. As a Jedi, he’d tasted the Dark. As a Sith, he hadn’t forgotten the Light. He was Dark Gray but gray all the same. That flexibility set him apart from his ‘Master’ who’d only know the Dark. And it served him especially well when it came to his efforts to further unlock the Dark Holocron’s secrets.
Despite its name, the Dark Holocron reaffirmed Dooku’s personal philosophy. It was not truly ‘all Dark’. No, it was the collected knowledge, practices, and teachings of the ancient Sith species. ‘Power seized’ over millennia, from their primitive, superstitious beginnings to their extensive Warlord period and all the way up until the first Dark Jedi arrived on Korriban. The ancient Sith Purebloods explored the Force to its fullest extent — Dark, Light, and everywhere in between.
And so, a Sith like Sidious would never be able to fully unlock the Dark Holocron. But a Sith like Dooku…? He made great strides and continued to do so. Truly, the Gray was where power thrived.
This ‘Atom’ who was making waves in the center of Hutt Space seemed to have discovered the same. Where he came from, how he’d progressed so far, even Dooku didn’t know. But he wasn’t firmly Light nor Dark. He embodied… something else. An aspect of the Force that stood strong in spite of the other aspects.
It was a fascinating thing to feel for himself, Dooku thought. He and his apprentice had only just arrived in the system. They cloaked themselves from wandering eyes in the Force, casting out their senses while keeping themselves hidden. In contrast, Atom was a shout in a quiet room. No, that wasn’t quite right…
The ‘room’ certainly wasn’t quiet. The Force was tumultuous. Choppy with wave upon wave of cause and effect and change. Dark and Light rallied against something… OTHER. It was Chaos in motion like Dooku had never seen, with strings of Order weaving throughout the bedlam. And Atom noticeably weathered the constant motion of the Force, stark and defiant and focused.
His presence was contrasted by two lights in the Force — Jedi that Dooku vaguely recognized — and a third beacon so bright that it would’ve sent Sidious diving for cover. A ‘Living Legend’, from the information Dooku had gathered.
He was still a youngling when he first heard the tales of Master Fay. As a padawan, Master Yoda told him enough to know she was most certainly real, but she’d always been a distant concern. Now, confronted by her presence in the Force, Dooku could say that even the stories didn’t do her justice.
For a brief moment, Dooku wondered what his life could’ve been if things were different. Learning from Master Yoda set a high bar, but not one that was impossible to surpass. If he’d spent his padawan years with Master Fay, would Dooku have found peace through the action she embodied rather than the resentment he’d found in the Order’s constant inaction?
It was a fleeting thought, passing just as quickly as it came. The past was not so easily changed, and Dooku wasn’t one for lingering on impossibilities. He turned his focus back to the present. Back to… the mess his apprentice had apparently been trying to make during his introspection.
Dooku sighed, “Asajj, calm yourself and sit, please. He is much too old for you.”
Asajj tried for a snarl but it came out as a sputter, “W-What?! That-! I’m not trying to fuck the old man! I’m just trying to see if he’s worth our time, Master!”
Her emotional control when surprised could use some work, Dooku noted as he replied, “He is an old friend. Older than me by a few good decades, even. Despite that, he is more than worth the effort to come meet him before we do anything else.”
Morgan Blackhand chuckled, “Listen to the youngin’, girlie. You don’t wanna have to say you got your ass kicked by a centenarian, do you?”
“I would carve you to pieces, old man!” Asajj snapped back.
Dooku felt the need to correct his apprentice’s dangerous assumption, “You would not. You’re still a decade too early to challenge Blackhand. And only that little because by then, he would be even more withered and gray.”
Asajj turned to stare at him, her mouth wordlessly opening and closing for a long shocked moment, “… Master?”
Dooku was unmoved, “None of that. It’s the truth, even if your ego dislikes hearing it. Blackhand was one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy before your grandmother was even born, Asajj. He was an old man in a profession where men die young when I was still a Knight. And now, he has lived long enough to happily retire. What does that tell you?”
“That he’s lucky…” Asajj grumbled as only the young could.
Dooku locked her in place with his stare, “You’re being purposefully obtuse. What. Does. It. Tell. You?”
Asajj finally mustered enough sense and humbleness to cave, proving that she could, in fact, be taught, “… Fine. I get it. Don’t pick fights with old men. They’ve lived long enough to become scary.”
“Acceptable,” Dooku gave a satisfied nod. Despite her grumbles, Asajj reacted well to the praise.
“If it makes you feel better, lass,” Blackhand said. “I am lucky as all get out. I just also happen to be good enough to capitalize on that luck when it appears.”
“And that,” Dooku shot a pointed look at his apprentice. “Is what makes Blackhand so dangerous. A perfect combination of preparation, luck, genuine skill, and perhaps a touch of the Force.”
“You say that, but I’m no Jedi, Dooku,” Blackhand demurred. “I don’t have that bit of special sauce you and yours have.”
“As always, we’ll have to agree to disagree there,” Dooku said, shaking his head. “But I digress. We should turn to the business at hand. Complications at home and the minutiae of ruling Seranno kept me from coming here as quickly as I would have liked. I suspect the local situation has changed as a result. Update us, if you would, my old friend.”
Blackhand smirked and lounged back in his seat, “Saying the situation has changed is an understatement. You missed quite a few happenings in the weeks you were delayed, Dooku. Starting with the Invasion of Night City that my call with you missed by a day, of course.”
“Of course,” Dooku drawled, deadpan. “Am I correct to assume that the invasion of a whole city sector of Nar Shaddaa is only the beginning of recent events?”
“It only gets better from there,” Blackhand confirmed with a nod. “I’ve been eating good, entertainment-wise, and the Gonks of Night City aren’t showing any sign of slowing down just yet. Night City rallied to repel the Clans’ invasion. They recovered, elected Atom as their newest Mayor, and then it seems like the whole city came out swinging.”
“‘Came out swinging’ how?” Asajj pressed, always eager for the bloody details.
“Well, there was the Lash-up of the Limits,” Blackhand elaborated, casual as can be. “The Clash at the Casinos. The Refugee Sector Recruitment. The Prowl on the Promenade. The Slave Ring Sabacc Shuffle. And many other alliterated events for the history books. The Gonks haven’t been slacking on their PR blitz.”
“But essentially,” Blackhand continued. “Atom, his Gonks, and Night City took the fight to the rest of Nar Shaddaa. They tore across the moon and began claiming territory left and right. The sectors around Night City fell quickly as the Gonks pushed out and out in all directions.
“Everywhere they turned, they fought their way to victory. Everywhere they turned, they brought freedom and change with them. They’ve freed slaves, inspired other uprisings, and drained the Clans of both local support and manpower. From what I’ve gathered, they control more than half of the Smuggler’s Moon by now. And they’re still coming for the other half.”
Asajj grinned at the abridged tale of war, “That sounds like a beautiful thing to watch and an even better thing to join, Master~…”
“We shall see,” Dooku simply said. “And how have the Hutt Clans reacted to this grand turn of the tides?”
“Not well, as you might expect,” Blackhand chuckled. “But they don’t have much room to respond. They’re being run roughshod over. They haven’t released concrete numbers, of course, but there must be more than a thousand Hutts dead at this point. A significant fraction of them were by Atom’s hands, too.”
Dooku nodded in consideration, “And despite their success as a species, the Hutts were never the most populous people. I’d imagine there are only a few left on Nar Shaddaa. And the most craven amongst them will undoubtedly be fleeing shortly.”
“If they haven’t already, they’ll have a hard time of that,” Blackhand said. “The Gonks have taken over almost all of the moon’s spaceports as a matter first and foremost. The Clans only control one, now, under a nasty piece of Hutt work who’s being called ‘Goren the Decomposing’.”
Asajj’s expression wrinkled with disgust, “Terrible frelling name.”
“Oh, I agree, lass,” Blackhand nodded. “But he’s become the last bastion of Hutt power on Nar Shaddaa. Tough nut to crack, that one. And there are rumors of… spooky shit circling around him.”
“Spooky?” Dooku quirked a brow.
“Beings being turned into less than beasts. Berserkers and shadowy assassins with their free will robbed from them. All while being granted unnatural powers that carve through any armor without pause,” Blackhand informed. “That kyber-spice you’re so worried about? Goren the Decomposing seems to have seen some success in harnessing it for his purposes.”
Asajj looked like she wanted to spit in disgust. Before she could, Blackhand lashed out with that black chrome arm of his, squeezing her lips shut by her cheeks in a surprisingly gentle fashion. Dooku’s apprentice froze, caught in the old mercenary’s grasp.
“Don’t spit on my floor, lass,” He chided.
The impetuous girl likely hadn’t even seen him move. Still, she took the warning well, nodding slowly. Blackhand released her with a pat on the cheek. As soon as he did, Asajj instinctively backed away a few steps before her courage returned and she glared at the old man.
She scowled, “Touch me again and I’ll take that hand of yours right off!”
Blackhand just chuckled, “Ol’ Dooku really needs to work on your manners, girlie.”
“It is an ongoing process,” Dooku absently quipped.
During their brief interplay, his focus was elsewhere. Parts of Blackhand’s information were worrying. Other parts were unsurprising. This Atom had seen good progress in his war. But Dooku expected nothing less from a powerful Force User who was untethered by the idiotic inaction of the Order. That update could be considered expected. Natural, even.
The kyber-spice update, however… Worrying, indeed. ‘Goren the Decomposing’ rather obviously held no care for the natural order of the Force. He was using an unnatural aspect of it to boost and bloat his forces. Nothing good could come from it. But it was also relatively unlikely that others would see the same sense on the matter that Dooku did.
As if on cue, Dooku’s specifically secured comm began to ring. Only one being in the galaxy would be calling him on it. Dooku braced himself for the worst.
“Excuse me, I must take this call in private. I leave my apprentice in your capable hands, Blackhand, but hopefully not for long,” Dooku said.
Blackhand waved him off, amused, “Go on, I’ll look after the girl. Maybe teach her a trick or two, even.”
Nodding, Dooku left them to it. Already, Asajj looked about ready to attack Blackhand. But Dooku’s old friend would know he wanted his apprentice back relatively unharmed. Dooku wasn’t worried in the slightest.
He found a secluded compartment on Blackhand’s pleasure yacht and, after checking for hidden listening methods, answered his ‘Master’s call. A darkly hooded visage appeared on the other end of the holocomm. Dooku didn’t say anything in greeting, only raising a single, imperious eyebrow. Just as Sidious would expect from him.
There was no denying that his ‘Master’ was a capable and powerful Sith. However, Sidious delighted in playing games that Dooku thought to be rather petty and irrelevant. Which was likely why Sidious insisted on playing them with him, he knew. That knowledge didn’t make the games any less tedious, though.
Sidious’ voice was both grave and genuine when he spoke, “Darth Tyranus, my most independent apprentice…”
Dooku replied with a single word to be taken however Sidious wished to take it, “Master.”
“Have your ‘duties’ taken you away from your place on Seranno?” Sidious asked.
“You know they have,” Dooku answered, unamused.
Sidious gave a light cackle, “Indeed, I do. You have traveled to Nar Shaddaa. For what reason, I wonder? Not that it matters, of course. I shall make use of you there all the same.”
“What do you ask of me, Master?”
“Events are taking place on Nar Shaddaa, as I’m sure you know. It has become a new stage, unexpected but certainly beneficial. You will cease whatever business brought you there. Instead, you will take on a task for me. The Hutts require a helping hand, don’t you think? To maintain the delicate balance necessary for the Grand Plan.”
“As you say.”
“The last True Hutt on Nar Shaddaa — or so the slug calls itself… — has reached out to me through agents upon agents. You shall meet and treat with him in my name to see what the Sith and Hutts can do for each other… Crush him beneath your boot, Tyranus. Subordinate him and take the one advantage he claims as our own. This… ‘kyber-spice’… You shall acquire its secrets for ourselves so that I may weave it into the Grand Plan.”
“As you say, Master.”
“I will be watching, Tyranus. Always watching… Do not disappoint me.”
The call disconnected rather rudely from Sidious’ side. Through it all, Dooku kept himself blank. He pointedly didn’t show any of his thoughts or emotions on his face or through the Force. He also pointedly never voiced direct agreement with his ‘Master’s decision.
After the disconnecting call left Dooku alone, however, he let out a single, long exhale through his nose. Sidious was as arrogant as ever. And this time, he had no real clue what he was trying to butt into. He undoubtedly thought kyber-spice to be just another piece for him to move across the board, like everything else in the galaxy. But being present in the system where it was unfolding, Dooku found himself with a very, very different perspective.
Kyber-spice was no pawn. It was something else. Something OTHER. An abomination. Dooku could sense how its infestation still lingered in the Force despite all of the work Master Fay and this Atom had most certainly been doing to combat it. Some things could not be used, and even with all of Sidious’ power and schemes — trapped in the galaxy’s Core as he was — Dooku’s ‘Master’ didn’t seem aware that kyber-spice was one of them.
Still, Dooku would follow through with his ‘Master’s orders. More for his sake than Sidious’. Dooku felt the need to confront the kyber-spice issue at its core. Goren the Decomposing seemed to be the closest thing to it on the ‘problem’ side of things, just as Atom and Master Fay would be the closest things to it on the ‘solution’ side.
Dooku resolved himself to evaluate both. After that, what came next would come as it did. But he very much doubted things would play out as his ‘Master’ predicted…
IIIII
“Stay vigilant, Asajj,” Dooku advised, his tone something that could almost be considered warm and worried. “This is the last place on this damned moon that I want either of us to be.”
For once, Asajj just nodded obediently, “Yes, Master. The feeling is most certainly mutual.”
“Hold your blades until I draw mine,” Dooku continued. “We are walking into a rancor’s den, and I would not have us fight until we have more information at our disposal.”
Asajj was visibly less happy about that command but still nodded, “Understood, Master.”
“Lastly, stick close, and for the love of the Force, let me do the talking,” Dooku finished sternly.
That brought his usual oh-so-young apprentice back in earnest, Asajj grumbling, “Tch, just muzzle me, why don’t you…”
“Asajj Yosephine Ventress…” Dooku invoked his apprentice’s full name as a warning.
She flinched but covered it well with a ‘nonchalant’ blown-out sigh, “Fii~inee~… I hear and heed you, Master. I shall stay my tongue and my blades until you give me leave to freely use both.”
“I likely will,” Dooku admitted softly. “My hopes for this meeting are not high. As I said, Apprentice, stay vigilant. Constantly vigilant.”
Upon arriving at Goren the Decomposing’s court, they found it militant and alert. And… a touch unorthodox. Instead of battering down in a single defensive position, Goren seemed to keep his court constantly on the move in a grand convoy.
A massive Hutt War Barge played the centerpiece — void-capable, but clearly meant more for pleasure and projection than prolonged interstellar travel or space combat. Three more War Barges — of more traditional Hutt make — patrolled the orbital lanes above wherever the convoy went. And all around the centerpiece War Barge, a veritable hive of movement came and went in countless smaller ships and speeders.
It must’ve been monstrously expensive to keep Goren’s War Barge constantly aloft in atmosphere. But then, Hutts were rarely known for being cheap when they could be sending statements. And a flying fortress — a constantly mobile and patrolling projection of Goren’s persisting power — was certainly a statement to send.
Even relegated to the Clans’ remaining (and ever-shrinking) territory on Nar Shaddaa, Goren was clearly declaring himself to the rest of the moon.
“Look at me, I am unstoppable!” Dooku had his doubts.
“I go wherever I please!” Except beyond the shrinking boundaries of Hutt territory on Nar Shaddaa.
“I must be constantly on the Usurper’s mind!” That one was likely true, but Dooku doubted it was a consideration of fear, instead one of patience and opportunity.
“The Hutt Clans have not fallen, have not fled! Nar Shaddaa is ours!” Technically true as well… but the real question was how long it would remain so…
Regardless of the statements being sent, Dooku and his apprentice weren’t turned away. If anything, their arrival was anticipated, and they were quickly escorted up to Goren’s centerpiece barge. There, they were led into the throne room. And immediately confronted with why Goren had earned the moniker ‘Decomposing’.
He bore the massive size of a fully grown Hutt and then some. On any other Hutt, the size would’ve been an impressive statement in itself. An excellent example of Hutt-ish health and wealth. But even at a glance, Dooku could tell it was rotting out from beneath Goren. Dooku wasn’t a man to be easily startled or frightened. But the sight of Goren the Decomposing put him very ill at ease.
The Hutt was a monument of wrongness in the Force. His presence was bloated beyond its natural weight. The Force seemed to constantly recoil and recoil around him, sucked into his orbit against its greater will. The very world around them rebelled against his false dominance. Yet that same dominance forced the Force into submission beneath his bloated, sprawling bulk.
The Force didn’t wish to heed Goren’s call. But it was given no true choice in the matter. It was like nothing Dooku had ever sensed. The Force: not just coerced and harnessed but wasting away at Goren’s will.
And the physical reflected the spiritual. Patches of Goren’s flesh were dead and necrotizing already. The rotting stench of slug meat steadily breaking down — an indescribable smell — filled the throne room, though none would dare comment on it, Dooku was sure. Goren’s skin was still green like so many of his kin, but it was a sickly, mottled, deathly dim color, seeming to lack any semblance of life. And below that sick skin, Dooku swore he saw… things moving. Like maggots in a corpse.
‘This is what Sidious wishes to acquire…?’ Dooku thought. ‘This abomination? This terrible, terrible thing? Never have I seen something more worthy of burning…’
Truly, his ‘Master’ had gone too far. He knew not what he was chasing, knew not what his hopes and schemes were pinned upon. A fact that Dooku had found to be worryingly common after joining Sidious. As strictly competent as he was, Sidious could be… woefully, arrogantly, offensively stupid at times.
Dooku’s ‘Master’ was willing to do anything for power. Always more power. Atrocities were where he began. No line was too far for him to cross. Sidious had no true respect for the Force. Just the outright power the Dark could bring him.
He thought Dooku didn’t know of his lab in the Deep Core. He thought he could get away with the experiments he ran there, some just as abominable as this kyber-spice. He thought he wouldn’t earn the very damnation of the Force if he continued. No, Sidious was too far gone and likely always had been.
Doubts had long been on Dooku’s mind. But now, confronted by this abomination and knowing what Sidious would do if he got his hands on it, those doubts solidified. It was a catalyst that kicked ideas in the back of Dooku’s mind into motion. First and foremost, however, he needed to ruin any potential relationship between the Sith and this abomination before him.
Taken before Goren the Decomposing, Dooku didn’t bow. Likewise, his apprentice stood straight and stiff by his side. Asajj seemed shocked speechless. As if it was all she could do to keep standing and to keep herself from igniting her lightsabers on instinct. Still, she obeyed his commands, and Dooku was thankful for that much.
“Who brought these delicious meals before me?” Goren asked aloud to his court. None dared to respond, not even for the benefits claiming credit might bring them.
“We are not for you to eat, Goren the Decomposing,” Dooku said sternly.
“Yes, yes,” Goren waved. “You are safe from my ever-hungry maw for now, Sith. You come to make peace and aid between us. Let us do so.”
“… My ‘Master’ sends his regards,” Dooku pointedly didn’t acknowledge the Hutt’s claim, only offering a lone platitude.
“Yet he didn’t deign to meet me himself,” Goren grumbled arrogantly.
“Certain commitments keep him locked to the Core Worlds,” Dooku excused. “For now, I speak with his voice.”
“Very well,” Goren accepted. “What can you offer me in your Master’s name?”
Dooku raised an imperious eyebrow, “I believe you have this backward. You and your Clans need us. We don’t need you. We may be in your place of power, Goren the Decomposing, but you must ply us with concessions if any deal is to be reached.”
“Arrogant Sith…” Goren growled. “I see my forefather’s stories were accurate. Even after a thousand years of hiding, your Dark Order hasn’t changed.”
“I merely laid out the truth as it exists,” Dooku demurred.
“Not for long!” Goren declared. “You think the Hutts beaten?! You think us powerless before this new foe?! Never! I gather my strength so I might turn the tides on the Usurper yet again!”
“Is that so?” Dooku’s eyebrow raised his doubts for him.
“Do not question my words~…” Goren’s retorting hiss was visceral, and Dooku forcefully suppressed a shudder. “The remaining Hutts flock to me as their only hope. My forces grow and grow. I have never been richer, never been more powerful. I have the weight of the Clans behind me.
“And all the while, I do what your Dark Order never could. I forge diamonds from worthless coal. My efforts succeed in the dozens, the hundreds, now! Already, I have an army — broken to my will — that the Usurper could never hope to match…”
“Yes,” Dooku nodded. “Let us get to the crux of this meeting. You claim to forge diamonds from coal, but I see none. Show me your ‘broken army’, and perhaps I shall begin to believe your claims.”
Goren chuckled a grotesque, gurgling noise, “Is the sight of my glory not proof enough?”
Dooku’s lips twitched into the slightest of sneers, “It is certainly proof of… something.”
“I feel your discomfort and your slave girl’s disgust. I revel in it~…” Goren grinned and licked his lips with a fat tongue. “But very well. I shall show you a diamond mid-forging.”
Though he knew it was pointless, Dooku couldn’t help but defend his apprentice, “She is no slave. Never again.”
Perhaps not so pointless… Asajj subconsciously stepped closer to him. She was barely holding herself back. A soothing touch from Dooku’s mind helped settle her a little bit more.
“Yes, such a noble thing for a Sith to claim,” Goren drawled sarcastically. “That is how your Dark Order has historically operated, isn’t it? Oh, wait…”
Dooku found himself grinding his teeth. How uncouth, how shameful for this abomination to push him so far… Still, he retorted no more. He knew the truth. Asajj knew the truth. Unlike his ‘Master’, Dooku did his best to set his apprentice free, not chain her further.
With no retort forthcoming, Goren waved a massive, rotting hand. Dooku followed his crude, deplorable working through the Force. In one corner of the throne room, an insulated box caught his attention. In the Force, it was darker than black. A void, with the fabric of the Force distorted around it to suck in more and more.
Goren popped the black box open and reached inside to pull something out. Someone. An otherwise unassuming Togruta man. He was… in a state, certainly. His eyes rolled to and fro uncontrollably. His whole body was wracked with twitches and shivers. And in the Force, his presence was collapsing in on itself.
Thick, cloying smoke poured from the box after the Togruta man. It seemed to cling to him with a life of its own. Swirling. Intoxicating. Corrupting. Instinctively, Dooku called upon his Force to keep the smoke away from him and his apprentice. Goren did the opposite, sucking it toward him with deep, impossible breaths.
“Ah,” He sighed. “The smell of success-in-the-making. Behold, Sith, and count yourself lucky to witness greatness as it is forged.”
Goren held the Togruta man aloft in a crude grip, presenting him to Dooku and Asajj. The last thing Dooku wanted to do was indulge the Hutt. But he examined the man all the same. It was an awful sight. An example of damnation as it happened. Already, the Togruta man was lost, his mind broken and steadily imploding with his presence in the Force. Someone — something — that could barely be considered a husk was left behind.
Dooku kept his true thought firmly to himself, only giving a hum that could be taken as Goren wished, “Hmm.”
“Indeed,” Goren’s grin widened. “You’ve seen nothing like it, hmm? Nothing this beautiful? Nothing that sets your nerves alight and makes you feel so alive?”
“No, I’ve certainly never seen the like of this before,” Dooku confirmed ambiguously.
He hadn’t. But he had seen enough.
“Asajj?” Dooku simply said. “You may remove your ‘muzzle’.”
As abominable and wasting away as Goren was, Dooku still felt his confusion. It lasted for all of a moment as Asajj grinned. Her twin lightsaber blades ignited with a dual-toned snap-hiss.
Dooku used the Hutt’s confusion to wrestle the Togruta man from his Forceful grip. He pulled the poor soul straight into Asajj’s range. She lunged forward, and her blades suddenly sprouted from the back of the broken man’s heart and head. Instantly, essentially painlessly, the fallen, imploding soul was put out of his misery.
Their ‘betrayal’ rang through the local Force as nothing more than a sigh of relief. Then, the whole War Barge shook with Goren’s wrath, wrestling the relieved Force to his raging will.
“False allies!” Goren roared. “Betrayers! Pretenders! KIN TO THE USURPER! Bring me their heads so I may feast of flesh and Force alike!”
With his call to action, the throne room sprang into motion. Blaster bolts flashed at them from every wall and corner. Dooku lit his own lightsaber to meet them. Calm and in control, he deflected the bolts back to their shooters. Contrasting him, Asajj became a whirling blur, bouncing and swinging to and fro with might and glee.
Shortly after the fighting broke out, Goren’s broken berserk wretches joined. Only three, it seemed, but they came with a ferocity to match every other enemy in the room. Unholy claws slashed at Asajj, not even flinching when they met her blades. Dooku stepped back as the other two Force Abominations rushed him.
He weaved away from lashing claws and snapping jaws. They were fast. Strong. Primal, bestial, and utterly undeterred by the thought of death. But if one remained calm, there was no true skill there to contend with.
Dooku batted a clawed strike to the side, and in the opening offered, he jabbed his blade. His lightsaber scorched a hole straight through the Abomination’s torso. When that didn’t stop it, he simply twitched his wrist. Still embedded, the lightsaber blade swung out sideways and cleanly bisected the Abomination at its rib cage.
The second Abomination came quickly right after the first. Dooku mustered his disgust and distaste for their very concept of being into Force Lightning. The streaking lines of energized Dark Side Force should’ve evaporated the wretch where it stood. Dooku clicked his tongue when it didn’t. Instead, the Abomination absorbed the caustic energy he threw at it and FED.
It grew faster, stronger, and wilder in its attacks. Dooku bowed backward for the briefest of moments before stepping back in and systematically dismantling the Abomination with masterful strokes of his blade. Its arms fell. Then, its legs. Finally, Dooku removed the head from its shoulders, still biting and feeding until he plunged his saber through the core of its brain.
Asajj had similarly dismantled her Abomination, though her cuts were much more messy. Dooku began moving to collect her so they could take their leave. As he did, the rancor in the room made himself known and felt once more.
A metaphysical ton of Force was brought to bear. Goren didn’t — likely couldn’t — rise from his throne on such short notice. He compensated by mustering his bloated weight in the Force to slam down on Dooku and his apprentice.
Such was the weight that Dooku couldn’t — wouldn’t — confidently stand against it. Such was the weight that Asajj froze outright, both flight and fight leaving her. Goren’s power in the Force might’ve been crude and untrained. But it was massive, unnatural, and bearing down on them like a crashing star dreadnought.
Dooku did the only thing he reasonably could: he grabbed his frozen apprentice and fled like the Force itself was chasing them. It was, in a way. Not of its own will, but forced along by Goren’s terrible, unnatural bloat.
He cut through everyone in his way and didn’t stop until he and his apprentice were back aboard their ship and en route to Blackhand’s pleasure yacht in orbit. It was the closest thing to a ‘home base’ they had on Nar Shaddaa. Dooku felt Asajj would need the time to recollect herself. By the Force, even he could use a few moments of peace with his old, retired friend…
“Corellian Hells, Master…” Asajj muttered once they were safe. “What… was that…?”
“Something that should never be,” Dooku declared solemnly.
Asajj shuddered and shrunk in on herself in a rare moment of humility and introspection, “I… I froze, Master.”
“You are young yet,” Dooku consoled her. “And I know you, Assajj. It will not happen a second time.”
“…” She fell quiet for a moment before saying. “Thank you, Master. For defending me. For grabbing my dumbass. And… for refusing to go along with… THAT…”
“I have grown rather invested with you, Apprentice,” Dooku gave an honest chuckle. “Fond, even. You remind me of someone I treated poorly. Someone I lost. Thankfully, you don’t lust after as she did.”
Asajj recoiled, “W-What?!”
“Komari Vosa. My… second Padawan,” Dooku elaborated, sighing as old memories and hurts called to him. “You wield her lightsabers, Dear Asajj. Perhaps I will find the fortitude within myself to tell you about her one day…”
Asajj fell silent again at that information, “… I see. Master…? Are you sure this is okay? Weren’t you tasked by your master to bring that… that thing onto our side?”
Dooku glared out the viewscreen of their cockpit, “He is my ‘Master’ in name only. And I’m starting to believe it’s time for even that claim to cease to be. After this, you hold much more potential in my mind than continuing to follow his arrogance and disregard for the Will of the Force.”
“Master…?” She blinked.
“I would discard him and take the title of ‘Master’ for myself,” Dooku continued, his mind already made up.
“You would become my apprentice in name as well as truth. One Rule of Two shall become two. Let Sidious have his Grand Plan. We will seize something better for ourselves and throw all of his schemes into disarray in the process.
“Start thinking on your Darth name, Asajj. Unlike Sidious, I will do right by you as my apprentice.”
IIIII
[AN: And THAT is where I’m leaving off this story for now. A decent time-skip has happened, Atom and Co have made good progress (though we’ll have to check back in with them when we return), and the Nurgle Hutt has pushed Dooku to start his own Rule of Two (Asajj: “With Blackjack! And Hookers! And- And Violence!”). It’s quite a bit of a cliffhanger, but I kinda like it that way.
The next week or so should be quiet post-wise. I’ll be rereading ‘Gotham’s Dead End Bar’, all 420k words of it… That’ll take a while, but it’s necessary. To soothe the wait, I had an idea for a companion piece to the Dead End. Something like ‘The Many Dead Ends of Sean Caine’ where we’ll get to see bits and pieces of Sean’s previous lives — namely, his deaths — likely from Didi’s POV as she atemporally stalks her hubby. They’d likely be shorter chapters — drabbles and snippets more than a full story — but it’ll be some good side/omake content, I think.
Then, eventually, when I’ve finished rereading and replotting, the Dead End will return in earnest. It should be back for real somewhere around the starting half of next month. Right on schedule, right as promised. :]
IIIII
Bonus Pics (sauce below)
Comments
HiCierra
Tftc, cant wait for more of both this and dead end!
Laplase
TFTC
Kz3838
Thank you for the great chapter, I greatly enjoyed how you wrote Dooku and Asajj here and am excited to see what you come up with next. I look forward to seeing the Dead End again, stay safe out there and keep up the good work!
Lictor Magnus
Thanks for the chapter! That was a good stopping point. I’m excited to see how this goes now that we’re fully off the rails.
jp9901
Giving Asajj justice by getting her a sith name!
CkLance
Snippets of Sean's deaths from Didi's POV would be funny tbh
Phoenix01
Dooku is right. For all that Sidious is so very clever, he can also be so damn stupid it’s not even funny.
Gamesempie
Fuck-Ing-Hell! That's what you're leaving us on! I don't know if I'm more mad that you're leaving us on this cliff hanger or excited to be getting back to the Dead End. Regardless, thanks for the chapter and fuck you in all the best ways.
Wanderingsock
I’m gonna miss this story, I love anything cyberpunk and this was chicken soup for the soul
MercerV12
Thanks for the chapter!
darknes12378
Thanks for the great chapter
Maxime Cusson
Thanks for the chapter :D
dryskies_btb
Sauce Bonus 1: thetriplex_celeste 2: kuuroishi 3: yokopanx 4: ceoofgothicc 5: sophiascamander 6: bishoujomom 7: peachuu244 8: Louisa Khovanski
