Rubbing my sore eyes, I slipped into my shoes and headed for what I had nicknamed the armory.
At first, I had wanted to name it "Seth's armory." Actually, I had wanted to name everything after myself, but then I noticed it did not matter—the place was mine anyway. Besides, whether it was coincidence or by design, my name, Seth, sounded quite similar to the word "Sith," depending on how you spelled it.
The make of this place had a stroke of genius to it. The Sith Room of Wish, which had now also doubled as my quarters, was underground in the Sith Tower. It had surprised me the first time when I had left the room, only to find myself still in another room.
The Sith Tower had twelve floors, and I had not had the time to tour the entire building. I relied on the aid of the mask to familiarize myself with the entire Sith compound, as the mask referred to it.
The tower was mostly made of residential suites, which were from the third floor, and a training hall on the ground floor.
I had assigned Dooku to the quarters on the third floor which ment apart from when we were training,we stayed clear of each other.
A lift connected all these floors, but strangely and convenient for me, there was no button to access the underground where the Sith Room of Wish was.
That was activated from the mask, ensuring that only I had access. Reaching the weapon shelf, I went straight to the one I had come to love and wield as the weapon of choice.
You see, the whip did not need a lot of technique, and even without the mask, I could still wield it with some good success. But the magic happened when it was enhanced by the mask—I barely had to do anything, and the crimson tendrils would dance to whatever I had in mind. Apart from secret practice here in the underground, I was yet to use it publicly.
Even the count still did not know about it, and I could only guess his reactions when he did. Its hilt looked quite similar to that of a normal saber, so operating it was also quite easy.
Switching it off, the short tendrils that had been protruding on the glass shelf disappeared and I stashed it inside the long coat I had on and headed towards the elevator.
***
This guy had to be kidding.
I had taken a shower and fallen asleep for god knows how long, but when I stepped out of the house, the first thing that greeted my eyes was the calm and thoughtful face of Count Dooku. "We have to talk," the guy declared as he rose to meet me with determined stride.
"No, we don't,"
I took quick long strides past the count, but Palpatine's apprentice adjusted quickly enough and was now walking right next to me. It didn't take a Jedi mind trick to know Dooku had spent all those hours developing traps for me.
I was not foolish enough to underestimate him.
Dooku was a former Jedi Master, which meant he had all the Jedi aces up his sleeve. On top of that, he was now an apprentice to the most ruthless Sith Lord to have ever lived. (debatable)
Undermining him was not a mistake I was about to make, not when he lay at the heart of every plan I was formulating here in DC.
I would hear him eventually, just not before I had developed countermeasures for him as well.
"I thought I told you to get to know this place. I don't see how talking to me helps with that."
Dooku's steps faltered for a while. I did not have to look to know he was struggling to contain his anger, but to his credit, he was back striding right next to me.
"First, I don't take orders from you, boy," he bellowed, but I cut him off. "Oh, but you do, my dear Count. It's your only ticket home, remember?" Again, the battle to suppress his fury was clearly evident in the constraints on his face.
I knew if we were in different circumstances or environments, he would have probably blown me to pink mist. But then again, had we been in those circumstances, I wouldn't have dared to stand next to a Sith apprentice, let alone speak to one in such a manner.
"And let me guess your second point. Your Republic credits are apparently useless here."
I had not thought about this fact earlier, and it made me feel bad for a fleeting moment before I recalled that this guy had a high tolerance and resilience from utilizing either side of the Force. Just a few hours without food or drink would do nothing to Dooku.
Still, I had a stack of cash in the Sith house which all I had to do is wish for. I made a reminder to give some to the Count. After all, he would be in Gotham for a while. He would need it.
"Yes, yes, but that is not—" he began, but again, I cut him off. "Well then, you are welcome to tag along. Whatever you have to say, you can say it over a bottle of beer."
The look that Dooku gave me made it obvious that he did not know what the hell I was talking about. Then again, that was to be expected. After all, the equivalent of alcohol in the Star Wars universe was some weird alcoholic concoction that certainly was not referred to as beer.
We were now out of the Sith compound and in the street, and the cab that I had ordered was already waiting.
based on the mask,these were the Gotham residential areas, so nothing much went on here. My business, however, was in the Gotham gutters. True, I really wanted to let off steam, but that could be done in any other seedier parts of Gotham,
so why the gutters?
I was doing some groundwork here. Dooku wasn't aware of it, but then again, he was not supposed to have come.
That had been a sudden change, but his presence did not hinder my work in any way. At least not yet. Besides, if push came to shove, which most likely it would, seeing the state of Gotham gutter life, I felt more assured about having a former Jedi Master by my side.
Not that I could not take care of myself. I had both the light whip and the collapsed mask tucked inside my coat, but it meant less power spent, power that would be focused on better endeavors, besides discretion was my top goal for now...stay under the radar until the right time.
Thankfully, the count had enough sense not to continue his grumbling as the cab ferried us to our destination, so the ride was silent, but I still caught him throwing sharp glances my way every once in a while. I decided to assume that he was not entirely pleased with the technological advancement in Gotham's transport system.
I mean, in Star Wars, they used speeders to commute from one section of the towns like Coruscant to another. Obviously, speeders were lightning-fast as compared to Gotham's taxis, especially because Coruscant was an entire freaking planet, while Gotham was just a town in a country.
Tough!
A few minutes later, we were seated in a rugged but cozy bar just inside the regions of the gutters.
The bartender had poured us a glass of whiskey without us even asking. Well, it wasn't what I was going to ask for, but from the sharp eyes he threw our way, I decided it would do.
I took a huge gulp and closed my eyes as I savored the warm burn of alcohol as it flowed through me
"Damn, I had missed that," I sighed, opening my eyes.
Dooku's glass was still full, and he was staring at it as if it were poison. "You have to try it, man... it's better than the crap you guys are used to." Still, the Count did not make a move towards his glass. "We can't talk if we are drunk," Dooku grumbled madly.
"I beg to differ count, it's when men talk best"
We had already attracted attention the moment we had entered here. Gotham was not a very welcoming place to new people, but the moment Dooku said we had to talk, I could see that despite the feigned lack of attention, almost everyone in the bar had suddenly put their antennas on ready.
In Gotham, rumors were valued, and information was the most valuable commodity.
the count still stared at me as if I was speaking one of the alien languages from the outer rim planet of his world
"Man, you are a killjoy, you know that?"
chapter 5,6,7 now on pat reon.com/Realmsinus
A review and some powerstones is a huge motivation fam