Days passed calmly; seasons changed. In the lower city, the atmosphere was gradually improving. The major gangs wouldn't tolerate petty thugs causing chaos in their territories and punished them severely. The fragile balance between the groups was growing into a mutually beneficial cooperation. Everything was fine until the unthinkable happened. A war, the first in a long time, swept across the entire galaxy.
The Confederacy of Independent Systems seceded from the Republic, and the first galactic war in several hundred years began. The people dubbed it the Clone Wars.
Some vague memories flitted through my mind, but I couldn't grasp anything specific. The only conclusion I could draw was that I had arrived during the timeline of the films. But how this would affect my life, I had not the slightest idea.
A more significant event for me was my eighth birthday. On that day, my mother and I walked through the upper city. It turned out she had deliberately saved money to show me the sights and the life up there, without all the stench and dirt.
My dear mother remained a ray of light in this gloomy world. Even with her work, she remained pure. As the girls whispered, most clients came to her not for sex, but for simple conversation and support. In her company, everything became simple and kind. She was the soul of our establishment.
Everyone knew about her dream: to someday break free from the shackles of Low-City and fly to a neighboring planet. Settle in a city, work a normal job, and send me to school. Despite the potential impact on his business, the Boss actively supported her and helped her get an education as a nurse. Her friends secretly set aside a little from their wages to help her pay for an apartment.
Even me, a sentient they were actively investing in, they were willing to let go, provided I returned the money with a small percentage within ten years.
My mother's love was the one thing that helped me remain human and not turn into another monster, which Low-City was already crawling with. I was a child; with her, I could find joy in this grim place.
More and more often, I felt a darkness gathering in my chest. It demanded destruction, ruin, but each time, my mother's kind eyes stood before me, and the gloom retreated into the depths of my being.
And today, it was as if Mom had sensed I was looking into the abyss and decided to take a walk with me through the upper city. As a gift, the Boss provided us with passes, illegal, of course, to this paradise corner.
How different it was from Low-City. Instead of grim concrete high-rises with wires and scrap metal sticking out, there were neat, white and sandy three-story houses. Well-tended lawns and cozy cafes, a huge park, and a sandy bay surrounding a massive lake.
All of this shouldn't coexist with the lower city, but it did. The people who caused chaos and threw money around below were polite and courteous here. Private security patrols walked everywhere. Everyone smiled and greeted each other. There was no swearing, no stench; everything was quiet and peaceful.
In the center of the city stood an enormous marble building, practically glistening in the sun's rays. Beautiful golden ornaments and statues adorned the park that stretched out before the planet's main governmental building.
That was where the quarters of the planet's Trade Council Head and our planet's Senator were located; they were husband and wife. And their only son managed the upper city. Active rumors circulated in the lower city that this trio had stolen so much they could easily buy several planets.
For the first time in this life, I tasted ice cream again. We were sitting in a cute summer cafe with a beautiful view of the city. Though when I saw the price, I felt sick. That money could keep us alive for a month back down below. But even that didn't spoil the walk. I felt good; my soul literally relaxed and shook off everything extraneous.
That day was one of the best I had spent in this world. To conclude our walk, we watched the sunset sitting in the park, surrounded by ancient trees and listening to the chirping of birds. Unfortunately, all good things must end.
Then it was back to training, pulling various scrap from battle sites, and the routine began anew. The guys and I had become friends; even though I was a couple of years younger, my results impressed them. Sometimes we played pranks or just fooled around. We lived like ordinary children, and I was content. No need to rush, worry about money, or someone else's expectations; the world in such moments is free and wonderful, if you forget about the city where I live.
The contrast between the upper and lower cities was frightening. Every sense of justice in me screamed that this shouldn't be. But there was nothing I could do about it.
The routine was interspersed with minor events until the first explosion occurred.
One of our establishments was literally wiped off the face of the earth. Fortunately, most of the staff and patrons managed to escape into the bunker.
Passing by the site, I felt as if I could still sense the pain and cries of living beings, the stench of burnt flesh, and the joy of the madman who had caused it.
The Boss was furious. He literally scoured the entire lower city, throwing all available resources into the investigation. He managed to track down the perpetrators. But when they were caught, they were already dead, and a bloody message adorned their bodies: "I crave vengeance."
Severed heads, displayed opposite the entrance, terrified everyone. We had murder, robbery, and assault, but not maniacs like this yet. Fear gripped Low-City; the situation that had seemed to be stabilizing began to spiral into the abyss again.
All reserves were thrown into guarding the establishments and searching for the wretches. Everything quieted down for several days. Right up until a squad of our fighters, not ordinary thugs, but our well-trained and equipped soldiers, disappeared.
Their bodies were found three days later, mutilated by an unknown weapon. Something had literally cut them to pieces. Charred wound edges and bodies split in half—that was all we found. And another message: "The game has begun."
Information spread across the HoloNet that anyone who cooperated with or belonged to the Shadow Front would be executed. Immediately following this, three gangs closely associated with us were annihilated root and branch. Veterans of the criminal life, not greenhorn newcomers. They were all killed; there were no survivors. A series of explosions, followed by soldiers clad in black armor, burst into the premises. Cries and the sounds of struggle, according to witnesses, didn't last long; everything was over in a matter of minutes.
Black-armored fighters, with glistening drops of blood, emerged from the establishment and vanished into the lower city courtyards.
Some of our people were again killed by an unknown weapon. Charred wound edges, bodies split in half, severed limbs—something was on the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn't remember.
Traders who collaborated with us, supplying food and drink for elite clients, were gunned down near the planet as they prepared to jump into hyperspace.
The unknown adversary demonstrated with maximum clarity that his words matched his actions. That same evening, a joint venture with the Chemists was blown up. They seemed to have started an investigation too, but several destroyed underground laboratories cooled their ardor.
Someone was slowly, but inevitably, tightening a noose around our neck. We were losing not only allies but also establishments and staff. All buildings and businesses were being methodically destroyed in every block, moving in a perfect circle. And the center of that circle was our brothel.
Week after week, month after month, we lived as if under siege, never knowing where the next blow would come from. Despite all the Boss's efforts, the enemy couldn't be found. And those we did track down were either dead or blew themselves up, taking our soldiers with them. No leads, no clues, only uncertainty.
I don't know when it happened, but at some point, fear took up residence in the house. An unpleasant, sticky, almost panic-driven fear of something inevitable penetrated consciousness and wouldn't let go. All fighters were put on alert, arresting everyone suspicious, digging in all directions. But still no results.
After a while, a lead surfaced. The face of one of the suicide bombers was undamaged; he was identified as a member of the Headless Merrymaker. But this brought us almost nothing. No one knew anything about them; all informants shrugged or simply didn't want to cooperate with us. The clear demonstration of what happened to our allies had terrified everyone.
Everything quieted down for almost a month, but then we were struck by an unprecedented storm of horror and despair.
I woke up at night with a sharp jolt; the room was illuminated by fiery flashes from the window. The orange shadows of the bursts created demonic figures in the corners of the room. Screams of pain and terror echoed from the street. Peering out, I saw a terrifying picture of total destruction and chaos.
The two nearby streets were almost completely destroyed. The remains of bomb-mangled houses loomed over the corpses of our soldiers and ordinary people. Terrified residents rushed through the streets. Somewhere, a baby was sobbing hysterically, calling for its mother.
I clearly saw a black hand sticking out from under the rubble of a wall, a face with glassy eyes, and a figure engulfed in flames, frantically rushing back and forth.
An inhuman scream tore from my throat. My vocal cords felt like they were about to tear. In absolute panic, I huddled in the far corner, dreaming that this would turn out to be a simple nightmare that would soon end. But it continued.
Another cacophony of explosions swept past somewhere to the right, but it was soon drowned out by the roar of a starship engine.
Gathering all the courage I had, I peered out the window.
Ships landed on the square with grim solemnity, disgorging fighters in black armor. The last figure to emerge wore a cloak, and a metallic mask gleamed in a flash of fire. Giving some command, the person raised a hand, and the soldiers lined up. The hand slowly dropped, and a quiet command sounded like thunder in a clear sky:
"Annihilate everyone you see."
I realized too late what was about to happen, and I couldn't have done anything anyway.
"Nooooo!"
My scream was swallowed by the roar of blaster fire. Everyone—men, women, children, and the elderly—who had been running around their homes. They were all systematically and ruthlessly gunned down. These people were guilty only of living in our territory.
I saw blaster shots flying out from the ground floor, but it wasn't enough. And all our soldiers were out on night patrols; it was unlikely anyone could reach us quickly, if there was anyone left to return.
I rushed headlong to the weapons depot, grabbed the first blaster I saw, a DC-17, and ran to help our people. But everything suddenly ended. A dead silence fell on the street, and only a banner, on which was written in red letters, "This is not the end," fluttered in the wind.
All the fighters in black armor had vanished, and only the dead lay like broken dolls. The fire made the shadows dance, creating the impression that dark spirits were staring at us with one question: "WHY?"
The morning was grim. The remains of the houses stood as mangled skeletons under the rays of the rising sun. We had been searching for survivors for five hours, but all around were only dead bodies with empty gazes. The moment I saw those eyes, I threw up; tears streamed down my cheeks, and fear crippled my entire being.
And then there were corpses, corpses, corpses… take, carry to the common pile, and gently lower them to the ground. And all over again; I drifted as if in a fog, powerlessness giving rise to rage. It churned inside, desperate to get out, but now I had to render a service to the dead; my emotions could wait.
The Boss arranged a funeral for all the fallen; now, next to the burned-out districts, there is a mass grave inscribed with the names of all who died that night. The Chief seemed to have aged twenty years; wrinkles furrowed his face, his once lively eyes were sunken and surrounded by large dark circles, and he himself seemed to have withered away.
Only a shadow remained of the once cheerful and strong sentient. He turned to all the surviving members of the group. Everyone had come to see off the dead on their last journey.
"There is no way out. Effective this day, the Shadow Front is disbanded. I alone will face the end at the hands of that monster. Too many deaths have already occurred because of me." He knelt and bowed his head. "A free life to you."
"An easy death."
The motto of our combat cell echoed through the ranks. Now it sounded more somber than ever.
Tears ran down my mother's cheeks; she took me by the arm, and we walked to our house, which we would soon have to leave.
"It's nothing. We have money; we'll move to another planet. Everything will be fine. Right, Set?"
"Of course, Mom. How could it be otherwise? We'll pack up now and leave this place."
Unable to hold it in, she collapsed onto the bed and dissolved into sobs. I comforted her as best I could.
"You'll see, a happy future awaits us; everything will get better."
My own tears were falling. In these eight years, this place had become my home; all these people were my family or friends. Leaving here hurt, unbearably so, but it had to be done.
Packing took all day. The gray-haired mentor came to see us.
"Set, the boys and I are going with the Boss. He has decided to meet his end in battle; the city is our territory. He uploaded a video to the HoloNet, giving his coordinates and proposing a duel to the bastard at dawn." The old man's eyes were filled with a deadly coldness at these words. "And we, in turn, made no such promise. We will cut down every degenerate who comes for him. We won't miss anyone. Are you with us?"
My brothers were calling me. For a moment, I considered it, but then I felt such fear emanating from my mother that I answered without hesitation:
"Forgive me, Mentor, but I have a duty more important than revenge. The well-being of my family."
"You have become a real man, Set. A free life to you."
"An easy death."
At these words, my voice treacherously cracked, and my lower lip trembled. Unable to bear it, I rushed and hugged the man. He wasn't just a mentor; he had been a grandfather to me—grumpy, harsh, but so caring and dear.
"Hush, hush, you'll crush an old man."
He stroked my hair.
"Fly to us when it's all over, be sure to fly."
Without answering, the old man disappeared behind the door. I thought I saw a tear gleam on his cheek, but I was probably mistaken.
Our packing extended late into the night, so we decided to spend one last night in the place that had been our home.
I woke up with a sharp start; a feeling of danger constricted me from within; all my senses screamed of imminent misfortune. Carefully leaving the room, I crept into the bunker; there should have been some weapons left there. With every minute, the danger was felt more strongly, but I didn't know where it was coming from.
There was the familiar door. I looked around the empty bunker, unusually empty and gloomy. There were no more children's shouts, no grumbling or laughter from the seniors. Scanning the walls of weapons, I saw my familiar DC-17 blaster. Since the Clone Wars, such blasters had flooded the black market. As soon as I saw this pistol, I immediately wanted it. Good thing no one had taken it.
The holster must be somewhere. Ah, there it is.
A powerful sense of dread scalded me. It felt like cold flame was running through my insides. Rushing upstairs, I almost fell—Kriff it! The hall was empty, but a noise was coming from the street.
Cautiously peering out the window, I saw him. A man in a mask and a cowl stood before a line of prisoners. Among them was my mother!
My mind abandoned me. Without thinking about the consequences, I jumped right out the window.
Roll, rise to a stance, my body automatically performed the embedded fundamentals, and intuition told me where to aim the shot to surely kill the enemy.
Blast! And one of the fighters falls with a bullet hole through his head. The helmet couldn't withstand the hit. The others hadn't yet realized what was happening. Blast! Another body slumps. Everything screams danger! A jump, a roll, and another shot. My mind coolly notes twenty more targets. A sidestep, press the trigger—nineteen.
My senses warn of impending disaster again. I start to stand up, but a sharp pain shoots through my body. Too late! A blaster bolt pierces my right shoulder. The pistol drops from my weakened fingers. I see the leader aiming the barrel of his weapon directly at my head. A burning sensation on my forehead indicates where the fatal blow will land. Everything is happening too slowly, but I won't have time to dodge. The black void of the barrel stares at me; soon it will flare with a bright flash, and the world will fade again.
"Nooooo! He is my son! Spare him! I will do anything, just let him go!"
I can't see, but I feel the bewilderment from the cloaked figure. But soon, a bestial, inhuman rage replaces it. A voice distorted by the mask echoes across the deserted square. Even so, the hysterical shifts in his voice are audible.
"You whore! Everything I did just to be with you, to take you out of this filthy den! But this is what I got for my intentions!"
The mask flies to the ground. A young face, one could even call him handsome, if not for the enormous scar crossing half his face and throat. A hole in his cheek gave his words a hissing, serpentine inflection. I remembered a long-ago conversation, how someone wanted to claim my mother, and how the Boss had nearly killed the scoundrel.
"A weak mercenary wasn't enough for you. Your disgusting... Boss," he practically spat the word out, "showed me what I was worth. Now I stand above him; soon the entire criminal underworld of this planet will fall at my feet, and then the whole system! We could have lived like kings!"
His eyes shone with a maniacal, obsessive gleam. His hands flew in different directions like the wings of a huge predatory bird.
"Soon they will bring me his head on a platter." He closed his eyes dreamily. "I will make a goblet out of it and set it as my second most important trophy, right after this."
His hand retrieved an elongated object. A quiet, barely audible click, and the street was illuminated by blue light. A low hum accompanied every movement of his hand.
"The rumors weren't wrong; we really did manage to kill a Jedi. That's when the truth was revealed to me: nothing can withstand explosions. You just need to calculate correctly..."
Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he began to gnaw at it furiously, muttering something. Then, suddenly throwing his hands up, he shrieked to the whole street:
"Yes, exactly! Correct calculation, setting the timer, the right place, the right reagents! It's an art! Art is an Explosion!!!" He fell to his knees, dropping the sword. He held my mother's face with both hands and smiled. "After killing that invincible creature, I understood the truth. Nothing can stand against my genius. And your Boss's head is just another confirmation of that."
"We'll be together now, won't we!? I've done so much; I'm the best, right!? You love me, don't you!? Remember how you brushed my hair when we were together, the gentle words you whispered to me. Malik, don't worry, you are good; circumstances just turned out this way. Malik, you'll succeed, you are wonderful. I remember it so well. I spent all my money on you and finally created my own group. But when I came for you, I was rejected." He touched his scar. "But it's about him, not you. And this boy isn't your son; you just want to save him, right?"
Looking at my mother, everything inside me clenched. Please lie, please! But her gaze was firmer than ever.
"He is my son. My flesh and blood."
"Noooooo!"
Malik, like a madman, thrashed in a fit. His whole body shook with tremors. Then he slumped to the ground. A quiet, hissing voice came from under the hood.
"You will be mine."
"No."
What followed happened in slow motion. With a frantic scream, Malik activated the lightsaber and lunged at me. I prepared to execute a sideways roll, but something blue appeared in front of me, resembling my mother's dress. And then the blue blade arced across my eyes, narrowly missing me.
A light rain began to fall. The quiet hum of the lightsaber and the hiss of evaporating drops hitting it. The prisoners watched the scene in disbelief and fear. The impassive soldiers in black armor. The man in the black cloak with the blue lightsaber, staring at the results of his own hands. And my mother's body, lying before me, still warm. I just need to shake her shoulder, and she will get up, right? But the charred edges of the wound and the wide cut across her chest left no room for illusion. I felt life had already left her.
"No, I didn't mean to, not her..."
What is he saying? It doesn't matter. Why is it so quiet around me? I reach out and close Mom's eyes; she doesn't need to see what happens next. The light of her clear eyes no longer restrains the Darkness.
Rage mixed with absolute darkness overwhelmed my consciousness. The lightsaber tore from the killer's hands and flew toward me. A bestial roar erupted from such hidden corners of my being that I hadn't even known existed.
A step forward, and one of the soldiers falls dead, severed in half. Another swing, the body in the blue dress is left behind. A swing, the light in Mom's kind eyes dims. A swing, the warmth of her hands disappears from my shoulders. A swing...
"Set, darling, you'll protect Mommy, won't you?"
The voice fades away. A swing, the kiss on my forehead is washed away by the rain.
My mind notes that six seconds have passed. One corpse per second, not bad productivity. Maybe I should become an executioner?
Laughter bursts out, unnatural, eerie. I feel such power within me. I will definitely destroy these wretched insects that stand in my way!
A sense of threat warns me of shots flying toward me. Slowly, I draw the nearest fighter to me and use him as a living shield. That's it, boys, you won't get a second chance. Squeeze... Three muffled crunches sound synchronously, and the bodies slump, no longer supported by the Force. Ten left. How unfair, to them, of course. I feel the fear surrounding me. I deactivate the blade.
"Well, boys, shall we dance? You have three seconds."
They raise their blasters.
"One."
I use my will to direct their simultaneous ten flashes upward.
"You need to aim better. Two."
Fear and despair have almost completely flooded their minds.
"Time's up."
A lunge forward, and my fist crushes a helmet like cardboard. Fie, I don't advise the faint of heart to look inside.
Threat, from behind!
A jump. The Force guides me; I land directly on the shoulders of the shooter. A synchronized movement of my hands, and the body, neck broken, falls to the ground. I notice two grenades on the slain man's belt. How well-prepared. Thank you. I grip both in my fists and activate them. Five seconds, more than enough. A lunge forward, smashing through the armor plating, how simple! Here's a gift; no need to return it. A turn, oh, and here's the second suicide bomber; I smash a grenade right into his helmet. Soaring into the air, two fiery flowers bloomed below.
What beauty. The melody of death is more exquisite than ever in this moment. I'm too lazy to bother with the rest. I seize all six of them with the Force and begin to choke them. Slowly, without rushing; we have plenty of time, my darlings.
Wait, something's wrong! One, two... twenty. WHERE IS THE LEADER!!! My fists clenched in powerless fury, and six more lives ended. In the sky, a ship was shrinking, moving further and further away from my grasp.
"AAAAAAAAAAA!"
A scream of rage tore from me. A wave of pain, grief, hatred, and fear radiated outwards, turning everything in its path to dust. Everything within a three-meter radius of me vanished completely.
My strength left me. My legs buckled; gravity did its work, and I fell face down. With my dimming consciousness, I saw Mom lying in the distance; her lips were slightly smiling, and her face was serene.
"I will avenge you."
The crimson sun was rising over the horizon. A crowd of people was running toward us; they looked somewhat familiar. I don't want to think. I'm tired....
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