KYBER-PUNK 22BBY [Inspired Inventor+]

— Atom —

*DUN~ DUN NA~, DA NA~*

"What a thrill~… With darkness~, and silence~, through the night~… What a thri~ill~… I'm searching~, and I'll melt into you~… What a~, fear in my heart~. But you're sooo~ sooo~ pre~emm~!"

I steadfastly ignored the reference singing in my ear. How Sasha knew it (with only the slightest of tweaks), how I remembered it, I didn't want to think about. It was relevant to my current task. Fitting, even. And a good song beyond. But I didn't want to occupy myself with causality fuckery and cosmic coincidences right now. I had enough work cut out for me already.

"I give my li~ife~, not for honor~, but for yo~ou~ (*Snake Eater*) In my ti~ime~, There'll be nooo~ one else~… Cri~ime~, it's the way~ I fly to you~ (*Snake Eater*)… I'm sti~ill~ in~a~dream~, Snake Eater~"

Sasha had a good singing voice. And the song really was fitting, coming through my hidden earpiece. Shame I couldn't dwell on it. I'd get her to sing for me again later when I could enjoy it fully. Of course, at the moment, my attention was mostly dedicated to the world around me.

"Lady Sstala sent me," I grunted, taking advantage of our newest ally in this developing coup of ours.

"Must've," The doorman — a dull but loyal-looking Klatooinian — muttered. His species had seemingly perfected that sort of 'guard dog' look. "You ain't the usual delivery guy… What happened to Stonny?"

I answered with the truth, just not all of it, "Explosive decapitation. You know how it is around these parts."

The guard dog nodded, "Yeah, I know. What's the word? Ocu- Occup-…?"

"Occupational hazard," I finished for him.

"Yeah, that!" He snapped, his claws clicking together on top. "Shame. Ah, well. Wasn't attached to the guy or nothing. If Lady Sstala sent you as his replacement, you're clear to go through. Nice meetin' ya, an' all."

"Likewise," One last curt nod and I disengaged from the conversation.

"Huh. Hey, buddy! You know you've got a tail?" I ignored him. "Huh… Never seen a humie with a tail before…"

The covered hoversled automatically followed after me as I entered the building. Just like that, I was in and going about the duties I declared I was supposed to be doing. At one point, this building might've been a warehouse. Or an abandoned hangout for troubled youths. Or maybe even a private black market. It certainly wasn't anymore.

From the 'ground' floor, the building's interior went down instead of up. The ground floor itself was a vaguely circular series of hallways, connecting several rooms: 'offices' (what passed for them here, at least), a monitoring station, an armory, and two separate dorms. The inner ring of hallways had windows all the way around, overlooking the floors below. In the center of the ground floor, a 'head office' was suspended in mid-air, impossibly supported only by a single free-standing bridge. That location would be important for later. It was undoubtedly where the head of the processing center resided.

For now, I ignored it. I marched straight forward with my 'delivery', coming to the windows and seeing my goal laid out below. Down two floors of open air, an abundance of activity played out in a wide-open area. Crushing, mixing, cooking, packaging, fetching, and storing again — the processing heart of Zorba's operation. The poor souls working down there would be slaves, one and all. As if the end product alone wasn't enough of an affront.

Hijacking the latest shipment got us inside the kyber-spice processing center easily. That much was always part of my plan. Our newest acquisition — in Sstala's support — was just the cherry on top of things. Getting the brain behind Zorba's operation on our side was… significant. Undeniably so. Her information would guide us through dismantling the operation before the actual coup kicked off.

I wanted — needed — to put kyber-spice into the ground before anything else. Zorba's 'PEACE AND HARMONY!' needed to die. The Force and simply common sense were all but pushing me down that path. A dark, realistic part of me whispered that it was already too late to stop the spread. But I could still cut out the source. Doing so would also act as a very suitable distraction for the rest of our couping conspiracy.

As such, I made sure everything was in place before I followed through with this infiltration of mine. Everything was set to boil over at my word. Sasha was acting as my overwatch, riding along through the remote beacon in my pocket and the discrete commlink in my ear. She'd be dealing with all of the cyber-sec, net-slicing, and keeping an isolating lid on the processing center while I was here. When I gave the word, she'd pass it along in seconds.

Linth was waiting with his fleet to give us air superiority. Shank had rallied the packs to be our army of Gank Killers. Suunri, De'vi, and Sstala were in place within Zorba's palatial tower, ready to 'attack' from the other direction, inside out. Shaitan and Coyate were prepped for surgical elite ops. The crew was only waiting on my go-ahead, too. I'd even rigged up something 'real preem' for Becca: an E-Web heavy repeating blaster that I'd modified with a backpack powerpack to make it man-portable instead of tripod-mounted. I'd given the Chaos Loli a laser minigun… and I didn't regret it for a second.

Everything was set. Everyone was on short notice. Weapons were primed. Transports were fueled and waiting. Combat plans were just itching to be improvised upon. We were ready for a fight. An all-out assault with infantry, vehicle, and air support to back us up. Having that much violence ready to drop at my word was a heady feeling. All that remained was for me to pull the trigger.

Sstala's recruitment had changed my plans slightly. I didn't need information from my infiltration into the processing center like I'd assumed I would. Now, I was here to sabotage. To set fires from the inside. To create a distraction that Zorba couldn't ignore. And if I liberated the slaves working here and killed their overseers in the process, that would just add more beneficial chaos to the pot.

Good thing, too, 'cause I wasn't keen on perpetuating that shit when I could do something about it. I was — unsurprisingly — anti-slavery. It was pointless, inefficient, and cruel for the sake of cruelty in a galaxy where droid labor existed. Utterly unnecessary. Not to mention immoral, regressive, and downright evil as a base concept, especially from the enslaved point of view. Slavery was pointless and cruel — a doomed, damning combination in my eyes. And that stance really shouldn't have been as controversial as it was in Hutt Space…

Then again… It was Hutt Space. I shouldn't be surprised. Morality, ethics, and conscientious objection were just about ineffective against the reality of these parts. Not that philosophy was useless. It made for good thinking. Meditation. Ideologies to live by. Sometimes, it was all that kept a person alive. Hoping for and thinking about the future.

But in the cruel reality where trillions lived under Hutt rule — where everyone was a slave in one way or another — action mattered most. Action and getting shit done. A philosophy was at its most valuable when you could actually see it through and give it real weight. Fortunately, right now, I had the power to do just that — taking action and getting shit done.

"I give my LI~IFE~, not for honor~, but fo~or you~…! In my ti~ime~, there'll be no~one else~…! Crime, it's the way~ I fly to~o you~… (*Snake Eater*)! I'm sti~ill~ in~a~dream, Snake~Eater~! I'm sti~ill in~a~dree~aam~, Snake~Eater~…!"

Sasha finished out her song in my ear. Her efforts were appreciated. Only a fool said no to their own theme music. I was firmly inside at that point. So when I replied, it was subvocalized.

"You done?"

"I suppose…" I could practically feel Sasha's pout through the comm.

"None of that," I growled beneath my breath. "I enjoyed it. Distracting. But I did enjoy it. I'll have to ask you to sing for me again at some point."

Sasha's end of the comm cut out. When it came back, I caught the tail end of an excited squeal, "~IE! Ahem. Sure. Sure, I can do that."

I gave an amused snort but didn't say anything more. During that short exchange, I walked the hallways of the processing center with a glare on my face as if I were lost. 'Searching', would be more accurate. I bypassed the unimportant offices and the two dormitories without issue. At the armory, however, I paused, adopting a false look of consideration.

Looting wouldn't be amiss. For an operation like this — with less than savory elements working it — it wouldn't be unusual, either. The opposite, in fact. It might just be stranger if a newcomer didn't take what they thought they could get away with.

Unfortunately, upon checking, the armory didn't have much that caught my eye. The blasters were in poor condition, plagued by lazy maintenance. The slug throwers were worse. Grunting in dissatisfaction, I sabotaged as I went, laying one of the thermal detonator charges I'd brought in under the cover of the kyber shipment. As I turned to leave, something made me pause in earnest.

Where ranged weapons failed me, melee picked up the slack. A dull, dull gray caught my eye. Half-buried in a haphazard pile of vibroblades was something different. A large knife that could've been used by a butcher if not for the shape. A wicked point flared about as wide as my hand was long at the widest point before narrowing and flaring back out again like a collar. Yet even with how wide the spade-shaped blade was, it was also thin. Almost paper-thin. To the point where it should've been useless and very fragile.

It wasn't. The Force whispered that much. A test proved it. Thin as it was, the blade didn't flex or bend at all when I tried. And simply dropping the knife point-down had it sinking into the steel table below like it was butter. What the Hell was this thing made of…? The hilt wasn't the same material as the blade itself, and-…

*CA-THUNK!*

A pressure pad on the hilt made a whole staff spring out of the hilt once I wrapped my hand fully around it in just the right way. It wasn't just a knife. It was a proper spear as well. The extended shaft was as tall as I was, locked together sturdily. And while it wasn't the same material as the blade, it still felt like good-quality durasteel. I examined it for a moment, getting a feel for its weight and length. It felt good in my hand.

"… Neat. New toy. Mine."

Collapsing it back into knife form, I took a few moments to scrap together a workable sheath for it. Luckily, a few of the vibroblades in the armory had actual leather examples to work with. I chose two and knitted the organic material together with Force Bio-Alchemy. I exited the armory one mystery metal spear heavier and one thermal detonator charge lighter, and continued on my task.

I wasn't quite overstaying my welcome yet. But I would begin to, soon enough. I had one more stop on the 'ground' floor, though. Reaching out with my senses in the Force, I could feel that the head office was currently empty. My goal there practically called out to me. I wanted to get to the slave transmitters before really kicking up a mess.

My hoversled was left near the elevator downward. I dashed quickly and quietly over the bridge, projecting an aura of 'DON'T LOOK UP' as I did. The Force came through for me and led me straight to the slave transmitters once I was inside. I couldn't destroy them. The slaves below would need proof to prevent panic and distrust. Instead, I shoved them all in a small bag along with the signal jammer that Sasha and Lucy had cooked up for just this purpose.

Returning to my 'delivery', I finally headed down to the heart of this processing center. There, downtrodden, nervous, desperately-working slaves awaited my eyes. Twitching. As if they could feel what they were doing wasn't quite right. The ones crushing the crystals were the worst off there…

I dropped breadcrumbs as I marched through their ranks. Broken chain links. Hard to misconstrue and almost impossible for me to have dropped naturally. And hushpuppies — small fritters of fried cornmeal. Even in a Galaxy Far, Far Away, they were historically used to keep guard dogs and dull-witted Gamorrean guards quiet and sated while the slaves escaped.

Eventually, one of the slaves was curious — or suicidally desperate enough — to reach down and check what I was covertly dropping behind me. Shock and flaring embers of hope radiated like bouncing, multiplying ripples through the Force. They spread. Grew. A yearning to be free. I didn't look back. My warning — my promise — had already been heard loud and clear.

There were guards down here on the production floor. Those same dull-witted Gamorreans, as it turned out. They milled about at the edges of the open room. I glared a challenge at every single one of them. Without fail, they snorted, averted their gazes, and backed down. Weak-willed fodder. Perfect for my current goals.

I continued on my path, having gotten across my warning — glowing like hopeful wildfire in the Force behind me — and having cowed the guards a touch. The kyber crystal storage was off in one corner of the room, sectioned in a small, fully-enclosed hut structure. As I entered, I found the head of this processing operation.

The human male had seemingly set up shop in the storage area. Not a good sign… I hadn't been expecting a human. But truthfully, it made no difference. What did make a difference was the almost crying pulse I felt in the Force. And how it happened every time the guy indulged in his finished product.

There was a baseline sort of flow there. Even without the kyber-spice, the man would've been more than slightly sensitive. But with the drug, he was practically torturing the Force. I watched for 30 seconds. In that short time, he snorted two bumps of the stuff. Both times, his head flew back as if he'd been punched in the nose, and something metaphysical crumbled from the inside out.

Finally, after far too long for a latent Force sensitive hopped up on fucking Force drugs, he noticed me, "YOU! I don't know you! WHO are you?! WHAT THE FRAK are you doing here?!"

"… New delivery guy," I answered, not even bothering to hide my unease. "Lady Sstala is restructuring. People getting moved around. I ended up with this job."

"Bah! That slag! Whatever!" The Force Tweaker exclaimed. "I don't care! You got my new spice fodder?!"

"… I do."

"Good! Set it there. I'll do the rest. Now, scram. Outta my sight. Take a bump if you- Gah!"

"I'll pass."

"Thank the frakking Stars!" The Force Tweaker cackled maniacally. "I regretted offering the moment I said it!"

"Strange, that…" I muttered rhetorically to myself as I turned right back around and closed the door firmly behind me.

"Fuckin' yikes…" Sasha commented, still riding along in my ear.

I barred it as well. Just to be sure. A simple bar locked through the handle and across the frame. It wouldn't stop a determined Force Tweaker. But it might just buy me a few seconds to see to some important business.

He'd find everything he expected in my 'delivery'. I'd deemed it an unnecessary risk to hang onto the kyber crystals for any longer than we needed to. They were far from useless. Simply not worth the trouble. And if I needed kyber crystals in the future, I'd find some that hadn't been looted straight from living insect eggs…

Along with the kyber crystals, the hoversled was rigged with half a dozen thermal detonator charges. Completely overkill. But necessary. I didn't want a gram of that stash to remain when I was done here. As it was, I would soon find out whether or not kyber crystal burned.

Before I could, however, I needed to clear the detonation zone of innocents. I wasn't about to have the slaves as collateral on my conscience. They didn't make it obvious, but they were watching my every move now. Anticipating. Practically glowing with barely repressed hope. Ironically, the Gamorrean guards were much less vigilant.

"Oi, pigs! Come 'ere!" I barked.

It was an order. Backed by intimidation and a healthy pulse of the Force. Impossible for their weak wills to refuse. Especially after I glared all of them into submission on the way in. Snorting, shuffling, and waddling, all of the guards came to me. They were… an unfortunate species… But sympathy was wasted on the swine.

They gathered around me, half a dozen of them. And it immediately became clear that they were taking strength and courage in their numbers. Vibro-axes were hefted. Aggressive chuffs were blown out of smushed snouts. And they all got a certain look in their beady eyes.

The slaves abandoned all pretense of working, watching with wide eyes. For the briefest of moments, hope withered. Then, my eyes narrowed in concentration. A pulse of the Force all around me made all six guards stumble. I moved, and hope returned with a vengeance, shining even brighter than before.

The local vibe of the Force rejoiced with enslaved hope and violent action. From a twisted, wretched knot to a sigh of relief as it was used for something meaningful and righteous once again. My new mystery metal blade swung up into my hand, lifted naturally by my tail. It sliced cleanly halfway through a brutish, leathery neck. The width of the blade almost decapitated the first guard entirely.

My grip closed around the triggering pressure pad on the hilt. The whole spear shaft sprang out in an instant. Catching it with my off-hand, I nailed it straight into a second swine-ish snout. The spear spun easily, naturally, instinctively in my hands. As if it was meant to be wielded by me alone. With the Force at play, that wouldn't surprise me.

Its edge was just as good at cutting as it was at stabbing. A third Gamorrean guard was opened up from shoulder to hip, leather armor and flesh parting like air. The panicked squeals were ghastly and glorious in equal measure. I didn't let myself revel in the violence. Not here, not now, with the local Force already so twisted by drug-fueled deviance.

Righteous spite centered me instead. The Force clung to that emotion like a breath of fresh air, free from addiction, despair, and wrongness. I stepped and jabbed. My spear went straight through the second's heart, sliding perfectly between its ribcage, and back out again in a blink. The hog didn't even realize they were dead until they collapsed with their strings cut.

The rest — fourth, fifth, and sixth — were dispatched with a single motion each. A stab, a slash, and another stab to the center of the last one's neck. With the wide, broad-leafed, spade-shape of the spear's blade, outright decapitation was the only possible outcome. Even then, the mystery metal edge severed the swine's spine with barely any effort.

A flick of the Force cleared my new blade of blood, the oily substance seemingly not wanting to cling to the mystery metal. As I did, the awe and hope in the air was barely contained. I could feel it buzzing and building to a fever pitch. Looking up, I saw every slave on the production floor staring at me. Wide eyes, one and all. A few religious symbols and prayers were made with their hands. Their silent anticipation was palpable. Like they didn't dare hope but couldn't help themselves at the same time.

Hearing the sounds of combat through her virtual ride-along, Sasha cheered and whooped. Mostly ignoring her for the moment, I collapsed my spear back down into a knife, sheathed it, and stomped right up to the slaves. One came forward to meet me, an old Twi'lek woman who looked like she'd seen the whole galaxy against her for most of her years.

"Have you broken chains before, young one?" She asked.

"First time for everything," I grunted. "Hopefully, not the last."

My words sent the rest of the slaves buzzing with excitement. The old woman smiled, "You bring light to the darkness, young one. Your heart is good. Aimed true."

"It's not," I denied, grumbling. "Good or bad, I'm just doing what I think needs to be done."

She nodded knowingly, "We all have our stories to tell. Here? Today? Your story ensures that ours don't die amongst us in chains. There is good in that. That galaxy smiles upon you, and you chose to use that boon to smile upon us in turn. Never forget that truth, blessed child."

"Hn…" I glanced away. "You and yours should be leaving, now. I'm not here to protect you. Just free you. Just set things in motion so that you have a chance. Here. Take this. The jammer in the bag keeps the transmitters inert. Once the storm blows over… come asking for 'Atom'. I'll do what I can to help you further then."

"A good heart, aimed true," The woman nodded again. "We will not forget this, Atom. None of us… Your story will be told, whether this be the beginning or the end."

Her eyes twinkled as she accepted the bag of jammed slave transmitters, "I would bet on it being the former rather than the latter. Keep yourself in good health, Atom. Strong of arm and strong of heart. Ready to break more chains, as mighty Leia once did."

Before turning away, she paused one more time, "… I will tell you a story. To help you with any future quests like this, and if one of us asks, to save your life. Repeating this will earn you a measure of trust from any who've known the weight of chains around their neck. Listen close, young Atom. Remember. Always remember…

"The chain has not yet been made that cannot be broken. It never shall be. Together, we break our chains. Together, we survive through the hardest of times. Together, bondage is broken, slavery is shattered, and freedom may spring eternal. The lie told by those in power can be… brittle, more so than it seems. All it needs to crack and crumble is a good heart, aimed true, to stand unbowed, unbent, and unbroken."

I could feel the weight of her words, of her story. It was a weight of history and hidden meaning, shared in slavery and suffering. A legend. A mantra of hope. A story of freedom to come. With that and nothing more, she turned to leave. I watched with a blank face, committing her story to memory. It might just save my life and so many others…

The other slaves flocked to the old Twi'lek woman like ducklings to their mother. The feeling shared among them was blinding. The whole Force lit up with the LIGHT of liberated dreams. Compared to how corrupted this place had become, reality itself was now breathing a sigh of blissful release.

"Woah…" Sasha breathed through the comm in my ear. "What was that all about? It sounded… heavy…?"

"Something powerful," I muttered. "Something sacred. Something to give so many slaves any scrap of hope they can hold onto."

"Oh…" Sasha made a stunned little noise. "I'm, uh, gonna write that down."

"Good idea. It deserves to be recorded," I agreed.

Yet my work here was not yet done. Despair had been chased away, but that corruption of addiction and drug-fueled deviance remained. The storage hut door I'd locked behind me rattled. It shook violently, desperately. I suppose the Force Tweaker had finally recognized that something was different. Strange how the drug could both open someone up to the Force and blind them to it at the same time…

As the last of the slaves shuffled through a backdoor here on the bottom floor of the building, the door behind me burst off its hinges. The Force Tweaker flew out of it, stumbling and outright falling over in the process. He reeked of desperation. Seeing the last of his slave workers slip away, his face twisted in horror, anger, and something insane.

"Nooo! My spice brewers! W-What the fuuuucck! Get back here! YOU! What the hell happened?! Nooo-AAAUUUGGGH!"

I didn't bother to reply, simply taking the time to examine the Force Tweaker. I was even more certain he was a latent Force sensitive now. But the kyber-spice had… twisted his sensitivity. Stronger in some areas, weaker in others. The foundation was rotting away beneath him. And now, it was all coming down like a house of cards.

I watched him fall to the Dark Side right before my eyes. He wasn't particularly Light before, but certainly not Dark. Not like this. His presence in the Force plunged, flooded with inky-black darkness between one instant and the next. His entire being seemed to crumble into a single point, a singularity. But his eyes didn't begin to burn yellow as I was expecting. Instead, they went completely and utterly black from pupil to lid.

I couldn't imagine his fall to the Dark was standard. He wasn't channeling the Dark Side as a Sith would, he was consumed by it in an instant. His addiction weakened and corrupted his Force presence to the point that there was nothing to withstand the greedy maw of the Dark. The kyber-spice ate away at him from the inside, and when he fell, the only thing his soul could do was crumble, decay, and straight-up Power Word: Scrunch.

I had a theory, then. Kyber-spice wasn't a Dark Side enhancer. Nor a Light Side tuner. It was… a million termites eating away at a wooden beam. A fitting analogy given the kyber crystals' buggy origins. It forced the Force into such a state that it became almost acidic. The 'PEACE AND HARMONY!' high was slivers of the Force itself being eaten loose from the whole. And with the weakening effect, the users became infinitely more susceptible to the ever-hungry Dark. To the point that, upon experiencing a suitable catalyst event, the users didn't just fall. They imploded.

The Force chimed at my theory, so I seemed to be on the right track. It also shuddered viscerally. The kind of shudder that came with the creepiest of crawlers. Knowing this galaxy, there was a very real possibility that the unborn souls of the kinrath eggs Zorba had stolen the kyber crystal from were acting as the 'termites' in my theory. Which… I didn't want to think about that any longer than necessary.

The Force Tweaker stared at me, swaying as he clambered back to his feet. His expression was the strangest sort of paradox. Blank of everything — thought and reason — but overcome with emotion at the same time. A snarl of utter rage with no soul to back it up.

His kyber-spice fall had left him less than a husk. A husk implied a shell of something. Other than his physical body — and just barely for that — I didn't feel anything between the Dark singularity he'd become and the rest of the Force.

My hand reached for my new favorite melee weapon again. Right as my fingers wrapped around the hilt, the Force Tweaker thrust out his hands. The motion was jerky and deeply unnatural. His fingers clawed and I felt an icy grip close around my throat.

My knife was out in an instant, instinctively slashing at arms that weren't there. Predictably, it did nothing. It took another choking moment for me to center myself again, the Force itself coming to my aid. It had chosen its victor for this fight, not like it was much of a choice at all. Still, when I pushed, the whole of the local Force backed me up.

The Force Tweaker went flying. Tumbling ass over tea kettle. Somersaulting uncontrollably through the air until he hit the storage hut and left a man-shaped imprint in the sheet metal walls. I could breathe again, but even that loud, undeniably painful crash barely slowed the Force Tweaker down.

More unnatural movements pulled him out of his perfectly fitting imprint. Jerking. Shaking. Twitching to start and stop so quickly that his limbs blurred with what could only be Force Speed. But the worst part was the silence. No screams of pain. No shouts of rage. Nothing.

"That motherfucker is eerie," Sasha whispered in my ear from afar. "Kick his ass for me, Atom-baby. He's spookin' me the frag out, and I'm not even there."

"Hn."

Having said my piece, I cracked my Forcing knuckles and got to work. I kept my new blade as a knife. I wanted to have a hand free. The second time around, the Force Tweaker moved explosively. Duracrete flooring cracked beneath his twitching legs. He shot toward me. The fingers that reached for me might as well have been actual claws, something Dark and primal coating them.

I dodged and weaved away from the claws. My knife came up and flashed across one of the Force Tweaker's forearms. He bled red to the bone, yet didn't even flinch.

Another desperate, animalistic claw strike. I took the assaulting hand half off with lethal precision. Again, he didn't flinch. Blood poured freely from his arm and wrist. He just came at me faster and faster.

A twist and shove of the Force separated that half-hanging hand the rest of the way. The jagged, broken bone that remained replaced the claws, taking up that same Dark, primal coating. Sharp bone jabbed at me. The Force coursed through my veins as I bent backward like limbo to slide under it.

That slide took me into the Force Tweaker's guard. I stabbed the spade-shaped blade of my knife right into his heart, slamming the pommel with a Force shove until the whole weapon punched straight through the other side. Still, the Force Tweaker kept coming as if he was untouched.

Around and behind, I caught my knife mid-exit. A touch here, a touch there, as I danced circles around the Force Tweaker's twitching, spasming body. Everywhere I touched, his flesh crumpled under gripping Force. A useless arm. A half-concave waist. A shattered and crushed leg that could no longer support his weight.

A Force push to his back toppled him like a tower. Still, he writhed and flailed. Lashing tendrils of Dark Force swiped at me. I batted them away with my mind, something the Force Tweaker could no longer boast of having. The Dark singularity he'd become thrashed until the very end.

I raised my knife for the final blow. The local Force flocked to me. Light and Dark. It was relieved. It was fed up. It was vengeful. I balled the whole thing up with spite and stubbornness and coated my new blade with it.

Then… that spiteful, vengeful blade fell. It fell deep into the Force Tweaker's brain. It fell deep into the Dark singularity that even the Dark Side scorned. Nothing of the original man and addict remained. The Wound in the Force was smited by sheer fucking spite, both mine and the local Force's that had suffered so much of kyber-spice's drug-fueled deviance.

Finally, finally, the Force Tweaker stilled. I removed my knife slowly, watching the body as I did. No movement. And after standing straight… still, no movement. Good. I grunted in satisfaction and blasted my new knife clean with the Force. No way was I touching anything from that fucker with my own hands if I could help it. Really, I was just glad this whole facility — and that damned body with it — would be vaporized in about a minute.

See, the thing about thermal detonators that no one liked to mention was the fact that they were, in fact, nuclear. Yeah, the 'thermal' in thermal detonator? It was more accurately said as 'thermonuclear'. They utilized particle shields to keep the destruction to a certain radius, but that didn't change the fact that they were miniaturized nuclear bombs, not simple grenades by any measure. Oh, and the outer shells tended to be made of thermite. Because why… fucking… not…?

They also happened to be way less common than Star Wars media in my vague memories made them out to be. The six I was using for this mission had cost more than an armed and armored vehicle. And right now? I couldn't think of a better usage for them than atomizing all of this bullshit so I didn't have to deal with it any longer. Fuck the Force Tweaker. Fuck the kyber-spice. Fuck this whole fucking operation.

Slipping out through the same backdoor that now-freed slaves had used, I didn't look back. I flipped the trigger, set off the timer, and simply walked the fuck away. About a minute later and two buildings over on the cityscape, there was an eerie, characteristic whine. Then, a flash. One that half-blinded me even as I was looking in the opposite direction. Thanks to the particle shields, however, I didn't feel a single degree of heat. And then… nothing. As it should be.

"Sasha?" I spoke into the comm, knowing this was the beginning of the end. "I think it's about time we end this farce. I'm on my way back. Give the word. Let slip our dogs of war on that fat fucking slug. Start without me, even. Just. Raise. Fucking. Hell. By the time I get there, I'll finish it."