Perfection exists only as a concept, an ideal, a goal to strive for that one will never truly reach, the flawless gem atop the highest pedastal, always shining down upon us, yet always to far away to grasp. Mistakes, errors, flaws, they are a part of life, the cost of living, occasionally even the reason for living, the wrong thing at the wrong time for all the right reasons...
And still, some stand out. Some make mistakes so large, they spend their whole lives running from them, or change them forever, for better, for worse, into a different person, unrecognizable from what came before.
The prompt is, what is your character's greatest mistake, biggest failure, the foolish choice of a foolish youth that forever changed their life?
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Ten years ago...
Brel slammed the door behind him, leaning heavily against it, gasping for breath. He couldn't have been followed, not this far. He'd been running for eighteen hours, almost a full day, no way he could have kept up...
The lock clicked and he pulled himself away from the door, finally allowing himself a moment to relax. It was a small hideout, barely more than a room, a comm, a bed, a refresher and, most importantly, a spare lightsaber, but small was important. You have to know where to look just to see the door, let alone open it up.
The comm powered on quickly enough. Brel had been expected to report back long ago, that damn Jedi got in the way, his Master would want to know what had happened...
He bowed low as his Darth Zhal's image snapped in, speaking in a rush, even as he tried to keep the panic out of his voice. "My lord, I have urgent news. I need-"
"Silence, Brel." Zhal's voice was cold, the image showing only a hood and long robes, even his face shrouded in darkness. "I sent you and your Master to deal with a Jedi, and now you stand before me, cowering? If you have failed me..."
Brel tried to ignore the slow pressure growing on his throat. "...n-no, my lord. Master Corran is dead, I slew him myself, but-"
Zhal laughed, the tone lacking any true mirth. "Good, good. I've been waiting to hear of that fool's death for many years. So, where is your master, or did you strike him down for his previous failures?"
Outside, someone screamed, the voice echoing even in here, and Brel shook his head quickly, a primal fear overtaking his voice. "No, my lord! Corran's padawan, he killed Lord Hesderan, he disarmed me... he's been chasing me ever since, I need-"
"Are you begging me to save your pitiful life?!" Darth Zhel roared, "From a miserable Padawan?"
The screams were getting closer now, and draining what little pride remained in Brel. "I... yes! He's strong, my lord, and almost here! I need help!"
"Interesting... Defend yourself until I arrive, Brel. And stay there."
"Of course, my lord! When will you-" Brel rushed out as the holocom faded, his shoulders slumping. "...get here."
There was another scream outside, too close... Brel grabbed the Lightsaber, igniting the crimson blade. His eyes were drawn to the door... wondering... the door was hidden. No one saw him come in, he was sure of that, and as long as he stayed quiet, stayed hidden... he'd be fine...
Brel was lying to himself, he knew. He could sense the Jedi on the other side of the door, getting closer and closer...
He jumped as the purple beam was driven through door. He was here.
It was a thick door, at least. A few inches of durasteel was a task to cut through, even for a Lightsaber. More than enough time to think of a plan, a way to ambush him, a way to escape... and all Brel could think about was how much he didn't want to get run through with the blade.
The door fell away, the heavy clang of the clanging steel echoing in the safehouse, and the Padawan stepped through, a dark-skinned Zabrak, clad in brown, Jedi robes, and his eyes... there was a hatred there, pure, untarnished by pity, or remorse, or fear...
Brel held his saber forward, mind entirely on defense, stalling this Padawan, at least until Darth Zhel could arrive. "...surrender, Jedi. You won't defeat a... pure Sith warrior..."
The Jedi narrowed his eyes. "Shut up." He moved with what seemed like a blur, slamming his Lightsaber against Brel, knocking Brel back against the wall, leaving him groaning as his foe stepped forward, an impaled Sith on his mind.
Brel managed to throw himself to the ground, just under the Zabrak's lightsaber, scrambling around him and keeeping his guard up. "...I didn't know you Jedi fought to murder... better get control Jedi..." he said, not taunting so much as pleading, hoping that the Jedi might start holding himself back.
No suck luck. A rising strike knocked the guard away, forcing him to again retreat, the purple lightsaber's follow-up strike only a hair's breath away from carving into his chest. Brel tried to counter, a flailing swing, easily deflected. The Zabrak's counter carved into the wall next to Brel's head, sending him scrambling to the corner, desperately staying alive for one more moment.
"...J-jedi, I... I surrender!" Brel blubbered, dropping his Lightsaber, keeping his hands up, eyes wide with fear. "Y-you win, just... just don't kill me!"
The Zabrak ony hesitated momentarily. Everything in his training taught him to stop, knock the Sith out, bind his hands and return to the Order with the prisoner in tow. The Jedi way. The same thoughts that had been running through his mind ever since...
...ever since this despicable punk drove a Lightsaber through Master Corran's heart.
The Jedi would try to redeem this murderer. Give him a second chance, wipe away his sins, make his crimes nothing, a bit of trivia to pass around the fire.
"You don't deserve mercy," the Zabrak muttered, and drove the Lightsaber into the Sith's chest, right into the heart. He stared into the dying man's eyes, breathing in the shock, the pain... the fear. His lips moved briefly, mouthing a plea, or a prayer, or... perhaps an apology?
The Jedi pulled the Lightsaber free, letting the corpse fall to the ground. Finished. Master Corran was avenged, this murderer would never hurt another again.
He raised his head slightly, hearing the sound of... applause behind him. He whirled around, narrowing his eyes at the figure in the doorway. Long black robes, a heavy, deep hood, a Lightsaber on his belt... another Sith.
"Ah, thank you, young Jedi. Brel there was a pathetic little servant. Some skill with a Lightsaber, but hardly the kind of termprament needed for success in the Empire. I am Darth Zhel, and, as you no doubt guessed, I am responsible for sending him on his little task. I assume old Corran was your master?"
The Jedi nodded, and said nothing, his hands tightening on the Lightsaber.
Darth Zhel smirked... or at least sounded like he was. "Ah, the silent treatment. I assume you have a name, Padawan Mysterious?"
"...Merrant. Why?"
"Why? Why what? Why did I want Corran dead? Why am I here? Why am I not killing you right now?" Zhel chuckled lightly, stepping inside, away from the door... his hands staying far away from the Lightsaber on his hip.
"...all of them?" Merrant could sense the Darth's power. There was no way Merrant could defeat him, not now...
Zhel waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, Corran and I have a history, you could say. Nothing important now. I'm here because that sniveling dog wanted a rescue, and I wanted to see what would terrify him so greatly." His head turned, openly appraising Merrant. "Not quite what I expected, but then again, it looks like he didn't have, aha, the heart for a real nemesis."
"And why are you still alive?" Zhel chuckled again, a low, throaty affair. "I have no need to. You have done me a favor here, after all. And I hate killing a talented youth." He gestured to the door. "The door is open, have a good day, Padawan Merrant."
Merrant glared at the Sith, hands tight on the Lightsaber, but he nodded quickly, self-preservation for once overriding his desire for vengeance.
He was about to leave the room when Zhel spoke up again. "You enjoyed killing him." It was more a statement than a question, a fact, not an assumption.
Merrant stopped, then slowly shook his head. "...killing him was... just," he lied.
"I felt that pleasure, young Merrant. He hurt you by killing your master, and you took vengeance. How could you not enjoy it?"
"...I am a Jedi," Merrant said, his voice wavering.
"Ah, of course. No Jedi would enjoy killing an unarmed man." There was a smirk in Zhel's tone. "Of course, I doubt a Jedi would kill one, either. Begging to surrender, begging for mercy... pitiful of him, wasn't it? Pleading for mercy after killing your master, your friend?" He laughed to himself, watching Merrant softly nodding. "You took him apart. That anger makes you stronger, young Merrant."
Merrant shook his head. "...no, it doesn't. Anger makes us weaker."
"More lies, even now?" Zhal shook his head. "You defeated Brel's master, and then took apart Brel himself, the one that slew poor Corran. Search your feelings, Merrant. You were stronger, fighting in anger, than you could ever be with the Jedi's peace. Accept the truth."
Merrant shut his eyes, trying to push away Zhal's words... trying to ignore the rush of power, the pleasure he felt, cutting Brel down, killing the bastard...
Zhel's voice was like a whisper in Merrant's ear now. "...you have power, Merrant. The Jedi teachings have their place in others, but be honest... they have only been holding you back, keeping you away from your true potential. Accept- no, embrace it. Go back to the Jedi, and they will punish you, shun you for taking vengeance on the one that murderred Corran, maybe even expel you for doing what waas just..."
"...or?" Merrant asked, not trusting himself to open his eyes.
"Or you can come with me. Learn how to embrace and use that anger of yours. Learn how to change the galaxy and take advantage of your potential."
"You mean become a Sith."
Zhel laughed. "We stand for power, Merrant. What you do with it is your concern. There are plenty of Sith in the Empire that use that power for noble ends." Merrant opened his eyes, feeling Zhel pat the Zabrak's shoulder, almost... like a friend. "Join me, Merrant... make your mark on the galaxy."
Merrant hesitated... and nodded. Zhel was right. The Jedi woudn't understand. They wouldn't trust that power. They would just hold him back more, push him away from this strength... they didn't have the will to change the galaxy...
...but Merrant did. "Lead the way... Master."
