The Rebel Faction

The walk throughout the Academy grounds was a silent one. Well, technically. Aenix spoke in great length of the happenings since Zark had left. Aenix ignored the fact that the last time he had seen him was when Zark had ran off with Searthen Jiren to help found the Rogue Jedi Order, which, after an initial success, faded into oblivion, along with most of the members of the Order and Jiren himself. For this, Zark was very greatful. He did not want any lectures on the Rogue Jedi ideals, he had already come to terms with their flaws.

For now, Zark was fully content with listening to what Aenix had to say about the true Jedi Order. The pure Jedi Order. This was a topic in which Aenix had much to say, and their travels took them around nearly the entire Academy before he was even halfway finished. Apparently, much had been going on at the Jedi Order, even with its noninvolvement in recent galactic affairs. The Sith might be strong, but it was apparent to Zark as he gazed out at the courtyard that they had definitely not won. Not yet, anyway.

Zark... Zark was pulled from his thoughts by a hand waving in his face.

The Jedi blinked several times and turned toward Aenix, who was grinning. The weapons master had finally noticed that Zark had long since stopped paying attention to what he was saying, out of, Aenix likely assumed, boredom. But it was not. This was Zark's homecoming, and it had been much too long of a time to be away. Everything seemed new to him, new and wonderful as it had been when he first arrived a young and confused Padawan.

He had grown up since then, and he was desperately holding onto the last strands of his immaturity.

Zark, Aenix said, causing the other Jedi to look at him, The Jedi and Rogue Jedi Orders share many things, among them active Jedi rosters, in order to keep track of all the Jedi in the galaxy. Zark, you've been MIA for a very long while now. Where did-

There was a very loud explosion up ahead, and Zark, startled out of their conversation, began to take off in its direction. He stopped and turned when he realized that Aenix wasn't following him. He had not even changed his pace. In fact, he was smiling. Then Zark looked around and noticed for the first time where exactly they were. No, it couldn't be...

"Hes still at it?" Zark asked, amazed.

Indeed, Aenix replied, You'd think he'd have grown out of it by now, wouldn't you?

Just then, as if on cue, a Jedi skidded out of the room from which the blast had originated, coughing and sputtering. As he looked up, Zark could plainly see the black covering his entire face. Yes, it was him alright.

"Hello again, Nathaniel," Zark greeted, once again calmly, "It has been some time since I have had the pleasure of seeing such a magnificent explosion. But tell me, if you seem to have the art to it down, why do you still persist,"

"Eh? Whos there?" Nathaniel replied, much louder than was called for.

Nathaniel has lost most of the hearing in his left ear, Aenix chimed in, A 'very promising project gone horribly awry', or so he claims.

"Aenix?" Nathaniel asked, still yelling, "Who's that you've got with...you..."

As Nathaniel wiped the soot from his face, his vision came into focus, and the man accompanying his long time friend was one that he had never expected to see again. Jedi Knight Zark Ekan, in all his former glory and much age on top of it. For a long while he just stood there, standing at him blankly. Finally...

"That last one must've had some side effects," he said loudly, directed at Aenix, "I think I'm hallucinating. Could've sworn that Zark Ekan was just standing right there."

Zark Ekan is standing right there, Nathaniel, Aenix replied.

"Oh..." Nathaniel mumbled, "I see..."

Silence.

"Zark, you lunatic!" Nathaniel literally screamed out, wrapping Zark into a very tight bearhug, "They said you had dissapeared! The Rogues, I mean. Where did you go?"

Thats just what we were about to find out, Aenix said.

Zark's very wide smile had been replaced by a grim frown. He started just past Nathaniel, seemingly concentrating on nothing. Nahaniel looked behind him, looked back, looked at Aenix, shrugged, and waved his hand in Zark's face. No reaction. It was as if he was not there. Nathaniel called his name, even shouted (extremely loudly) in his ear. Nothing. No response.

For Zark, they were no longer in one of the many hallways of the Jedi Academy. They were very, very far away from Theed, Naboo, the inner planets, the outer rim. They were nearby the Unknown Regions. They were on that damned little planet by the name of JED-1, in that little sleepy town, and inside that cathedral. They were at the altar, and there lay Darth Xoverus' smoking corpse. And inside Zark's hand was not nothing as it had been at the Academy, but a smoking revolver to match the corpse it had killed.

And all around them, there were figures. Not people, for Zark could not tell clearly if they were. They all wore hoods, and were cloaked in black, just as the Sith's servants, now dead, had been far below in the catacombs. A dull roar of mumbles reached Zark's ears, and it seemed to him that they were praying, although he could not make out the words. Just a collective mumble, nothing that made sense. And in the center, the altar. But it was not the corpse of Darth Xoverus laying there. Zark did not know who this new man was, but he had the same bullet holes in him as Xoverus had had, and Zark was still holding the revolver.

And then everything faded to black.

The wind blew very harshly, but Zark could not feel it. In fact, he could not really feel anything. Looking around, he discovered that he was, somehow, outside, and in the middle of nowhere. Around him for miles and miles, there were only hills. Hills and grass and more hills. Where was he? This place was wholly unfamiliar to him. The sky was very blue, without a hint of clouds anywhere in the sky, and the wind blew on and on, although he could not feel it.

So he walked. Zark walked and walked. The grass crumpled and swayed beneath his feet, but he could not feel that either. He reached out to touch one of the hills. Nothing. On and on he walked, going somewhere but getting nowhere. Everything seemed the same, as far as he could see. Only the size of the hills varied, and they were the only thing that assured him he was moving at all.

"Over here!"

Zark heard it, and instantly his head snapped in its direction. Upon a hill in the distance, a shadowy figure stood atop one of the countless hills. The sun was shining very brightly, so this fact was odd. It was as if the shadow was coming from the figure itself.

"Over here!"

He heard it again. A woman's voice. He began to run. He ran and ran and ran. Over hills, under hills, hills hills hills. What seemed like five minutes away ended up taking hours. The figure always seemed to be just out of reach, and no matter how close Zark got the shadow never lessened. He could make out none of her features, if it truly was a she.

Finally, he made it...

...and the shadow was gone. There was no one.

"You made it," the voice said, very close. Zark whirled around, staring in the face of a moderately beautiful woman, "I'm glad. But you didn't have to run. I'm not going anywhere."

"Where am I?" Zark asked, thoroughly confused.

"You are in the medical ward of the Jedi Academy on Naboo," the woman replied, "Your friends brought you there after you passed out."

"Ah," Zark said, looking around, "They seem to have redecorated it since the last time I was here."

"No, silly," the woman replied, giggling, "That is not where this is. That is where you are. This is Nowhere."

"Nowhere?" Zark asked.

"Yes, Nowhere. That is what it is called."

"And where are you?" Zark asked.

"I am...I was," the woman replied, her face turning sad, "In the town of Darj Ekdi, on the planet you know as JED-1. My body still resides there."

"You are...you are dead then?" Zark asked, memories returning quickly.

"I am no longer among the living, yes," she confirmed.

"Did I...I mean, were you..."

"No, you did not kill me," she assured him, smiling softly, "I was...murdered...by one of the men who were supposed to kill you."

"One of the other townsmen," Zark said. He wanted to feel relieved, but he could not. She had still died because of him, "Someone you knew?"

"My husband."

"Oh...I..." Zark searched for the words.

"You need not apologize, Jedi Zark Ekan," she said, smiling once more, "It was not your fault. It was the fault of Xoverus, and only him."

"But I was the one-"

"No one else may take the blame of Xoverus," the woman asserted, "It is his and his only."

"...why am I here?"

"You are here to be warned, Jedi Zark Ekan," the woman said, her face again serious.

"Warned? Warned of what?"

"He is coming for you, Jedi," she said, her voice grave, "He is coming for you and he will not stop. He cannot stop. It is his purpose. His goal. His dream. His vision. And it will be his reality if you do not prevent it."

"Who? Who is coming for me?" Zark asked.

"You know of whom I speak," she replied.

"I do not..." Zark trailed off, staring at her, "No."

"No?" she asked, "I assure you-"

"No," he cut her off, "I killed him. I made sure he was dead."

She chuckled, although there was nothing funny to chuckle about.

"He managed one last trick before he died, Jedi Zark Ekan," she said, "You killed the body of Jeremiah Xoverus, but the spirit of Darth Xoverus endeared. He has found a new body. A new guise to hunt you with."

"No."

"Yes, Jedi Ekan."

"No!" Zark screamed, grabbing her, but she was gone.

"He will not stop until he finds you."

Zark wheeled around, and there she was.

"And when he finds you, he will destroy you and everyone you hold dear, unless..."

"Unless what?" Zark asked, "Unless what?"

"Unless you find him first," she said, "The body he controls is not nor will it ever be fully under his control. Just like your body was never under your Xoverus' control."

"I don't know what you're-"

"Now is not the time to hide your secrets, Jedi Zark Ekan," she said, "I know all about Roland and what happened after that night."

"I...what do I do?"

"The man Jeremiah Xoverus resides in is my husband, my murderer," she said, "His name is Marcus. My name is Katherine. His son is Gerald, who he also murdered. You must help him, Jedi Zark Ekan. He is the only one who can ever hope to defeat the new Darth Xoverus. Help him. Please."

"I...I will do what I can," Zark replied.

"That is all anyone can ever ask of you," Katherine said, "Do what you can."

The hills began to fade, and so did Katherine.

"Wait!" Zark yelled, "How will I know what he looks like?"

"When you find him, you will know," she replied, her voice a distant whisper, "Blue eyes."

"What?!" Zark screamed, "Blue eyes?! What does that mean?! Katherine?! KATHERINE!"

"Hes coming around," Zark heard the voice, but it was not Katherine's. It was so familiar, but he couldn't remember.

"Are you sure?" another voice. It was Aenix's, "He looks asleep."

"Y-y-you're sure hes not dead?" This one was Nathaniel's, "He...he looks dead."

"Hes not dead."

"I'm not dead," Zark mumbled, "I think. Am I?"

"No, you're not," Aenix assured him.

"Th-thats good," Nathaniel chimed in.

"Not really," Zark muttered.

"What did you say?" Aenix asked.

"Nothing...why can't I see?"

"Your eyesight should return in time."

"Ah."

And whoever had said that was right. Soon enough, he began to see shadows. Eventually those shadows turned into blurs. After that, shades of light. Then, unfocused figures. And finally, he was in the medical ward of the Jedi Academy on Naboo, as Katherine had said. There were three people crowded around him. Aenix, Nathaniel, and...Heather.

"Hello Heather."

"Hello Zark."

Night had long since fallen, and those members of the Order still awake stayed mostly in their rooms. The medical ward lay as deserted as always, the only difference from the day being the lack of light. The piercing silence that was usually a constant was broken by the quiet sound of a woman softly sobbing.

She sat, curled up in a ball, in the corner of the ward. The tears of anger and sadness went against many of the things that the Jedi Order stood for, but she could not stop them. She was not sure she even wanted to stop them. So they fell. They fell freely. They fell with completely disregard for the sacrilege they represented.

I hate him, she thought to herself, I've wanted to for so long, but I've been too afraid to. I'm not afraid anymore. There's nothing I can do about it. I hate him. Hes either crazy or a really bad liar, and I hate him no matter which one it is.

There is no emotion.

Those words sounded very hollow to her now, and she cursed herself for thinking it. But it was true. She wanted peace. She wanted it more than anything, but as much as she did she couldn't stop her emotion. It was there. It divided her, it filled her, it consumed her. It made her a human being, and for the first time she wondered if one could be both a Jedi and a human being.

There is no emotion!

She ignored the words playing in her mind. As much as she wanted to believe them, she could not. There was emotion, whether she liked it or not, and she was constantly haunted by that fact. She wanted to be as emotionless as the wisest of Masters, but it was there. It was blocking her path. She could not move it, climb it, go around it. There was nothing she could do.

THERE IS NO EMOTION!

Heather covered her ears, even though the words were not audible. She cried even harder, as if in subconscious defiance to those words. There is no emotion, yet she felt it. She showed it. She hid it, but could she forever? This had not been the first time she had been here, crying, although the tears had not been so frequent or so heavy. But him...he had returned, and he had made things different.

There is no emotion...

"There is peace."

Her head snapped up, and there sitting on one of the medical cots with his back rested against the wall, was him. The one who caused these tears. The one who had created these emotions inside of her. Zark Ekan stood before him, staring straight ahead and not looking at her. What had he meant by what he said? If he had been reading her mind, could he not tell that there was emotion?

"There is peace," Zark said again, "Sometimes even with emotion...if you know where to look for it."

"And you do?" she snapped, trying to dry her face, but more tears came.

"I did...once upon a time," Zark said, smiling softly, "I even grasped it once, if only for a moment."

"I suppose you want some medicine for your hangover," she said sharply, glaring at him.

"I'm not drunk," he replied before she could get up.

"...I...I'm sorry?"

"I said, I'm not drunk," Zark said again, turning his head ever so gently to look at her, "I ran into that pub with you with every intention if drinking myself into oblivion. I didn't even want to remember who I was, but..."

He trailed off.

"Does this mean..." she began, "that you're not..."

"Oh, I'll drink again," he said, "One of the drawbacks of being an alcoholic, I suppose."

"What happened to you, Zark?" she dared to ask one more time, "What really happened? Why do you have so much you want to forget?"

"Have you ever seen death, Heather?" Zark asked.

"I'm a healer, Zark. I was here during Endgame," she said, simply.

"Have you ever seen it...up close..." he struggled, "Have you ever seen murder?"

"I...I don't know," she said, thinking, "I...maybe."

"Have you ever killed?"

"What? No!" she said, "Zark, you know me. I would never...is that what this is about? Are you sad because you killed a man?"

"Sad when I killed a man?" Zark echoed, chuckling, "I...probably wasn't. I probably wasn't sad when I killed a man."

"So what is this about?" she asked.

"I was...I was on Ossus when Thrawn came," Zark whispered, "I was there when the Chiss invaded."

She was very surprised at this.

"What...did you do?"

"I killed," Zark stated simply, "I killed and I killed and I killed. I saw men around me...men following me...die. I have tried to justify everything I did that day as best I could, but the only thing that really matters to me in the end...is that I led those men. I led them to their deaths."

"Zark, I-"

"You'd think you'd forget them after a while," Zark cut her off, "But I remember. I remember every...single...fucking...face. Every Chiss I killed. Every soldier that died beside me. Every..."

He paused, and she could see that she was no longer the only one in the room crying. His eyes glistened with moisture, but she could not tell what emotion he was expressing. Sorrow? Fear? Even...anger? Was he angry at himself? She had spent far too long away from the emotional life to tell for sure.

"Every one of those poor bastards I slaughtered..."

"Zark, you were a soldier..." she began, trying to think of something...anything to comfort him with, "You were just-"

She stopped suddenly. Another glisten from Zark's person. But this one did not come from his eyes. It came from his hand, his right hand. At first she thought it was a blaster pistol, but as she rubbed her eyes to stop them from caking, she realized it was something different. Something she had never seen before. It was a gun, she could tell, but...

"Its called," Zark began, "a .357 Magnum revolver. It shoots projectile rounds. One round about half the size of my index finger. Six shots per reload, hammer has to be cocked back after each shot. Not very practical, but extremely accurate and with a vicious stopping power."

Zark removed one of the bullets. He placed it upon the crevice between his index and middle finger, pushing up and hopping it to the next one. And he went down the line of crevices, going back when he reached his pinky, until it became so fast that Heather could not longer tell for sure what was a finger and what was the bullet.

"I've seen one of these take men's heads off," Zark continued, speaking as if that was a completely normal thing to say, "When you kill...its like nothing you've felt before. You'd think it'd be easy. One swipe of the lightsaber, one pull of the trigger...but it isn't. Not the first time. Not the second time. And it never gets any fucking easier. But sometimes once you start...it isn't so easy to stop."

She stared at him, silent, obviously scared. Was he really crazy like he said he had been? Should she be fearing for her safety? No, Zark would never harm her. Or, at least, he would never harm her in his right might, but...until a few seconds ago she had thought he would never harm another living being. She had been wrong them. Very wrong. Should she run? Would that make things worse?

"Do you want to know where I was?" Zark asked, bringing her from her thoughts, "When I was AWOL, I mean."

A very long pause, and then finally, she nodded.

"No you don't," Zark said, his voice bordering on menacing, "And don't you ever fucking as me to tell you. You wanted to know what happened to me. Did I answer your question? Did you get what you wanted?"

He did not give her time to answer, even if she had had the courage to speak at that moment. The man she no longer knew occupying the cot she had just been staring at was gone. She had never even seen him leave, and she did not doubt that he had wanted it that way.

He had answered her question, but she had not gotten what she wanted. Not by a long shot. And, in the darkness of the medical ward, the crying slowly began to start anew.

Wow, not bad Gevel.

Zark had had some very awkward moments in the time immediately after he had woken from an all drinking binge, but he had never before had his door blown open from the sheer force of a blow. It wasn’t something he would normally necessary find surprising, especially considering some things he had done while drunk in the past, but he hadn’t really expected it to happen in a Jedi Academy.

Aenix burst into the room, saber drawn but deactivated, a look of desperately controlled rage upon his face. Zark could tell, even with the devastating headache, that the Jedi was doing all he could not to leap across the room and slice off his head at that moment, and Zark could only imagine what he had done last night to deserve it, although he had no doubts that he did.

Nathaniel arrived a few moments later, quite obviously out of breath, and leaned against the splintered door frame to catch his breath. He seemed to desperately want to say something, but had no air to do it with. Meanwhile, Aenix was very close to shattering his lightsaber in his completely white hands.

“Zark…” he finally managed, “Aenix…”

“I noticed,” Zark grumbled in response.

The Jedi Knight stood up very slowly and then began to make his way over to the closet, ignoring the seething man he had but yesterday been talking and laughing and reminiscing about old times with. He massaged his left temple with one hand, wincing in pain at what the movement was doing to his headache. He slid open the closet door and began to toss out some clothes to wear for the day.

In an all-too-sudden moment, the shirt he held in his hand fell from his grasp as a very strong pair of hands grabbed him by his collar and yanked him up against the wall. In his hung over state, Zark had barely recognized Aenix’s movement, much less act to defend himself from it.

“What did you do to her?” Aenix hissed, seething.

“Fear leads to anger-“ Zark began, before being pulled back and slammed against the wall again.

“Don’t you frelling try to lecture me!” Aenix growled out at him.

“Anger leads to hate, hate leads to-“ Zark ignored the warnings, receiving another good slam and a toss across the room.

“Suffering…” Zark grunted, “Fear is the path to the dark side.”

“I hold no fear for you, you little wretch!” Aenix yelled.

“But you have more than enough hate to make up for it,” Zark countered, just loud enough for Aenix to hear it, “Now what did I do to whom?”

“You know who!” Aenix literally bellowed, “Heather! What did you do to her?!”

“Is she okay?” Zark asked, very alarmed. He struggled to remember what had happened last night.

“Is she okay?! Is she okay?!” Aenix screamed, “You damn well know she isn’t! You damn well knew it when you left her crying in the infirmary last nigh-“

“Aenix, please,” Nathaniel had managed to regain his breath, and, still puffing a bit, continued, “You don’t know the effects of alcohol, but there are two of us in this room that do, and one of the common side effects is memory loss. I do believe that Zark honestly has no idea why you’re throwing him around his own room.”

“Bullshit! He knows! He remembers!” Aenix grabbed him by the collar again and hoisted him up, “Cowardly little drunkard hiding behind your own frelling addiction!”

“Aenix, please,” Nathaniel pleaded, “This is not our way. He doesn’t remember-“

“I do,” Zark said, ever so quietly.

“I’m sorry?” Nathaniel asked, very startled.

“You see?!” Aenix screamed, slamming him against the wall again, “And you were trying to defend him! Who knows what this little rat did to her last night!”

“We talked.” Zark answered, very calmly.

“Just talked?” Nathaniel asked, hopefully.

“Just talked,” Zark confirmed.

“You filthy little lia-“

“Aenix! Please!” Nathaniel stomped a foot on the ground.

“Oh bugger off!” Aenix spat, “He’s not worth your pity! He’s not worth this room! He’s not worth that frelling title he shouldn’t have earned!”

“Then I suppose you’ll be happy to know I’m leaving,” Zark said.

The surprise hit Aenix so fully that he dropped the Jedi from the wall, continuing to stare at the blank spot even after Zark slipped around him, opening the closet door and pulling down a lot more clothes than just ones for the day. He paused, stare at the clothes, thought, and tossed them back into the closet. He went over for his Jedi robe, changed his mind again, and grabbed a ratty brown cloak suspended next to it.

The drunkard Jedi made his way for the door, only to be blocked by Nathaniel.

“Leaving?! What? Why?” Nathaniel managed to spew out.

“Who the frell cares?” Aenix mumbled loud enough for both of them to hear, “Let him go. We’ll be rid of him, and Heather will be better off for it.”

Zark managed to slide past the dumbfounded Nathaniel, leaving them both in a room vacated as suddenly and mysteriously as it had been first occupied. Wrapping the cloak tightly around his body, Zark covered his face once more to the world and began his walk to the Theed spaceport.

************

The spaceport was, as always, bustling with activity. Hundreds of different species and thousands of different entities roaming to and fro, each with their own business to attend to. Before, when Zark had been normal, he hadn’t put too much thought into it, but now when he looked at it all he felt a sense of surrealism. As if it was hard to imagine all of these different people with individual histories and minds could exist at once.

Zark’s view of the world had been broadened with the addition of more than one entity into his body not too long ago, and it was definitely not something he had ever really enjoyed. Because of this, he felt a deep discomfort whenever in largely occupied areas. Solitude was a gift he had learned not to waste, and it bordered on apathy for all other life in the galaxy.

It did not take him long to finally reach his ship. He had developed ways of moving easily through crowds with the aid of the force, giving people small hints to get out of his way – or, as they believed, to walk in a direction that happened to take them out of his way – and reaching out with the force to navigate the easiest possible route to his destination. If one were to look down at the spaceport from above, they would see Zark Ekan walking easily with an empty circle all around him for about two or three feet.

Looking upon the ship he had flown into Naboo what seemed like an eternity ago, Zark could honestly not remember where he had procured the space vehicle. It could have been through entirely legitimate means, but probably not. A disturbing thought ran through his mind when he thought about this; how many people had died in the process of obtaining this vessel? It wasn’t something Zark wanted to think about, but he knew that the number probably exceeded five.

What would his friends…his old friends…think if they had known that? What would the Jedi Master Organa Solo think if she knew that? It had been a bad idea to return here, Zark realized. He had been fooling himself with hopes of redemption. He had been fooling Organa Solo and Aenix and Nathaniel but most of all, most importantly and most terribly, he had been fooling Heather. He had lured her on…again. It was something he’d never do again. Or at least, he prayed to whoever up above hadn’t given up on him already that he wouldn’t.

“Zark! Zark!” came a very shrill voice. Speak of the devil.

Zark did not turn. He did not pause. He did not acknowledge her in any way. She was the reason he had come back, he realized. She was the reason. She was the cause. She was why he could not let go of a Jedi Order that had already let go of him. And the worst part of it all was that it was not her fault. Not one bit. The blame could only ever be laid upon his shoulders, and he was too willing to take it.

The ship ramp made a hiss as it began to lower, and Zark began a trudge up into the shadows that he had killed for. He could still hear her in the background, yelling his name, thinking he hadn’t heard her, oblivious to the fact that he was ignoring her. It would be so easy. Walk the last few steps, leave it all behind. Never have to see these people again.

He turned. It wasn’t easy enough. He had to see her one last time.

“Zark,” she had finally made it to the ramp, and paused to gasp in air like it was going somewhere.

He immediately regretted turning around.

“Yes?” he asked. His voice was a monotone, emotionless, too emotionless, and he could see the hurt in her eyes. He wanted to beg her forgiveness for his tone, for last night, for everything. He wanted to stay. He wanted to be a Jedi again. He wanted, most of all, her.

Life isn’t always wishes that come true. He had learned that along time ago. None of his ever would.

“I…Aenix…he was so mad…it was…all my fault,” she gasped, still not fully recovered, “Nathaniel…he said…you were leaving…because of me…”

“I have my own reasons,” Zark said, and turned once more.

“So you are leaving?” she asked, regaining her breath fully, “Just like that? No goodbye? Nothing?”

“Goodbye.”

The hatch closed with a hiss.

From the other side of the spaceport, Aenix and Nathaniel both watched as the events folded out, watched as the ship began to take off, saw the hurt expression plaguing Heather’s face. They watched all of this, one with a look of sorrow, the other with one of a bitter contempt.

“So he’s gone,” Nathaniel said.

“Yeah,” Aenix replied.

“She’s going after him, isn’t she?” Nathaniel asked.

“Yes, she is,” Aenix confirmed.

“We’re going after her, aren’t we?” Nathaniel asked.

“We’re going after both of them,” Aenix replied, turning away, “Get the ship ready.”

“Both of them?” Nathaniel gawked, his eyes wide.

“I’m not through with him yet,” Aenix casually offered over his shoulder.

Nathaniel’s surprised expression slowly faded.

“Figures.”

OOC: I owe a story. I'm going to finish it.