Several weeks had passed since the flames of the dark side had once again burned within me. From that moment on, I devoted myself exclusively to strengthening you, to rebuilding my body and my spirit. Before, I was barely a shadow of my former self, an empty, weakened shell. Now, my physical form was beginning to remind me of the one I had before my capture:
Firm muscles, upright posture and a gaze that could pierce steel. But more than that, my connection to the dark side had deepened, like roots piercing the core of my being. It was a torrent that fed every cell of my body, every thought and every action.
Hatred, my faithful fuel, had ignited the embers of passion that reinvigorated me. I meditated relentlessly, but not to calm my mind as a Jedi would, but to channel those negative emotions-anger, resentment, revenge-and turn them into the weapon I needed to escape this place.
The dark side enveloped me, dense and tangible, whispering secrets that few could understand. I could feel it flowing around me, a dark and powerful river that promised to destroy everything in its path. Every day I was getting closer to the breaking point, to the instant when all that pent-up energy would finally burst.
My meditative state was abruptly interrupted when the Force showed me images, fragmented but disturbing visions. The first: a ship, the Phantom, flying through space, heading for a planet I could not recognize. The second: Ezra, talking to a hooded figure whose identity remained hidden. The third: Kanan, facing off with a Togruta - a Jedi, I assumed - against what were clearly Inquisitors, identifiable by the double-bladed lightsabers that spun like wheels of death.
Then came the fourth vision. A temple. Old, imposing, charged with a dark, ancestral energy. Inside the temple, I made out a Sith holocron that seemed to call to me, a dark beacon that promised answers and power.
But the last vision was the most disturbing. Ezra held a crimson lightsaber, its sinister glow illuminating his face. In front of him, kneeling and clutching a bloodied side, was Kanan. Beside him, the hooded figure urged him in a guttural voice:
"Do it, my apprentice. Kill him."
I opened my eyes with a piercing scream, rage filling every corner of my being. The Force amplified my fury, and that scream echoed like a shockwave that shook my cell. The handcuffs that held my wrists began to crack until, finally, they snapped. Startled, I raised my hands and looked at them. They were no longer restrained.
Without hesitation, I turned my attention to the shackles that imprisoned my legs. With a gesture, I concentrated the Force in my hands, feeling the energy crackle around me. I released it in a burst that shattered the shackles and, raising both hands, launched a powerful wave toward the ceiling. The reinforced structure split with a clatter, leaving a gaping hole through which artificial light seeped.
And then, the alarm began to sound.
"That's my cue." I thought, leaping through the hole and landing in an upper corridor. My body moved with renewed agility as I ran for the exit.
"Now to find a ship," I muttered, barely audibly, as I advanced down the corridor. But it wasn't long before I encountered resistance. A patrol of stormtroopers appeared blocking my path, led by a commander whose orange shoulder pad indicated his rank.
"Prisoner, return to your cell!" he ordered in a firm voice, pointing his blaster at me.
"That's not going to happen." I responded with icy calm, as I extended my left hand. The Force flowed like a torrent, and with a mighty thrust I threw the commander and the nearby stormtroopers against the metal walls.
The rest of the stormtroopers reacted quickly, firing relentlessly. Blaster rounds lit up the corridor, but with a wave of my hand, I stopped them in mid-air. The rounds hovered, frozen in front of me, as if time itself had stopped.
The soldiers hesitated, doubting the effectiveness of their attack. That hesitation cost them dearly. With a sudden movement, I fired back at them. The screams of the stormtroopers echoed as the blasts ripped through their armor, leaving their bodies inert on the ground.
The hallway fell silent, save for the echo of the alarm. I took a deep breath, feeling the dark side throbbing inside me. This was only the beginning.
"I'm back." I muttered as I moved forward, determined to reclaim my freedom and much more.
The echo of my footsteps echoed through the narrow metal corridors of the prison, intermingling with the persistent hooting of the alarm. The intermittent lighting tinged the walls a hellish red, and the searing heat emanating from the floor and walls gave me my first clue. Each step became more familiar, each flash of light revealing something I had seen before. Finally, I stopped and closed my eyes, allowing the Force to guide me.
Mustafar.
The name formed in my mind with lightning clarity. This was the volcanic planet that if I remembered correctly, Vader possessed a secret base, I guess that's it. Now I understood why the atmosphere seemed so oppressive, almost as if the burning air itself was charged with the suffering of countless souls.
The distant roar of boiling lava mingled with the humming of the mechanical systems that kept the base running.
As I advanced, the corridors began to branch out. I chose a random path, guided by instinct and the Force, until I came to a wider area. The arrangement of metal shelving and secured cabinets confirmed to me that I was in the armory.
Lights shone steadily here, illuminating a well-organized inventory of weapons, explosives and tools. I ran my eyes quickly over the rows of blasters and thermal detonators, looking for something that might help me get out. Then, something caught my eye.
A metallic flash at the back of the room.
I approached cautiously, each step echoing in the silent warehouse. There, covered in a thin layer of dust and surrounded by rusted components, lay a humanoid droid. Its design was unusual, slender and sleek, with a structure that suggested flexibility and remarkable adaptability. Its elongated head and sensors in the form of small lenses where the eyes should be gave it an unsettling air.
I frowned, evaluating the machine in front of me. I didn't recognize the model or its purpose, but something about its design made me think it was no ordinary droid. Perhaps an abandoned prototype or some sort of failed Empire experiment.
"What do we have here?" I muttered, more to myself than to him.
I reached out to its metal casing and touched a panel on its side, activating what appeared to be its main switch. For a moment, nothing happened, but then a faint buzzing sound began to emanate from within. The lights on its sensors flickered faintly before stabilizing at a cool blue hue.
"Activation complete. Operating system online," the droid announced, its mechanical voice reverberating through space. Its limbs twitched slightly, testing its functionality, and then its head turned toward me with surgical precision. "Unknown user detected. Identify yourself."
"I am Galen." I replied firmly, keeping my guard up.
The droid tilted his head, as if processing the information. After a brief silence, he replied, "Galen... name not recognized in my database. A pleasure, user. I am PROXY. Do you require assistance?"
"PROXY," I repeated, trying the name out loud. "What are you? A combat droid? A tactical unit?"
"I was designed as an advanced training and combat prototype under the Imperial military development program," he explained in a neutral, almost indifferent tone. "However, my initial programming was categorized as... overly aggressive. As a result, I was removed from active duty and relegated to menial tasks. Eventually, I was left here to be disposed of."
A flash of interest crossed my mind. This droid, shunned for his own violence, might be just what I needed.
"I understand," I said as a plan began to form in my head. "You have knowledge about this base? About its defensive systems?"
"My database includes maps of the facility, access to the main systems, and the codes needed to disable the perimeter force field." He replied without hesitation.
This was perfect. Not only could this droid lead me out of this prison, but it could be the key to unleashing chaos on Mustafar.
"Then you're going to help me get out of here." I stated, letting a dark smile form on my lips.
The droid blinked, its sensors glowing for a moment before replying, "Orders accepted new master. Lethal force required?"
"Only against those who stand in our way." I replied coolly.
"Understood, master." He said with a slight tone of enthusiasm.
As I prepared to move forward, I grabed a nearby blaster and threw it towards him. PROXY caught it with flawless movements, but before I could give a command, he surprised me by speaking.
"Thank you for the weapon, but it won't be needed," he stated. "My programming includes an advanced holographic module that allows me to emulate both the appearance and combat techniques of multiple users stored in my database. I can replicate former opponents and allies with remarkable accuracy."
Before I could question it, his form began to distort. His metallic figure vanished, replaced by the image of a Jedi I vaguely recognized from historical records. Ki Adi-Mundi, his posture, his style... everything was a perfect replica.
"Interesting." I murmured, a smile of approval forming on my lips. This droid would be far more useful than I had anticipated.
"Lead me to the hangar, PROXY." I ordered.
"Yes, master." He replied, his holographic form returning to its original configuration.
As we moved forward, my connection to the dark side grew. I felt his energy envelop me, amplifying my anger and determination. PROXY walked with mechanical precision, his movements reflecting a confidence strange for a droid.
"First, the force field codes," I told him as we headed for the control core. "Next, this base will burn... and it will do so at my will."
The droid nodded. "Orders logged. Proceeding with plan."
---
Meanwhile, a small, agile ship was cruising through space, heading for a forgotten platform on Mustafar, a remnant of the separatist installations of the Clone Wars.
The place was dilapidated, covered in volcanic ash, but still functional. The ship landed softly, with a hiss of steam as the cooling systems activated.
The side hatch opened and a figure in Mandalorian armor descended with precision and stealth. Sabine Wren, determined and focused, adjusted her helmet and advanced toward the Imperial base. Her training and experience allowed her to move like a shadow, evading patrols and sensors until she encountered a lone stormtrooper. Without hesitation, she pinned him down with a precise strike, making sure he was knocked unconscious.
"Thanks for the uniform." She muttered sarcastically as she began to strip him of his armor. Within minutes, she had traded her distinctive Mandalorian armor for the gleaming white of a stormtrooper. Adjusting her helmet, she took the stormtrooper's blaster and blended into the ranks of the Imperial garrison, his heart pounding, but her mind cold and calculating.
Everything seemed to be going according to plan until suddenly an alarm echoed through the corridors of the base, a high-pitched, piercing sound that caused the soldiers to begin frantically running for their positions.
"The prisoner has escaped." An authoritative voice announced over the base's loudspeakers. Sabine paused to listen as an officer with lieutenant's insignia issued orders. "Catch him and return him to his cell if possible. If not, use lethal force."
Sabine cursed inwardly, but had no time to reflect. To maintain her disguise, she was forced to follow a group of stormtroopers running in the direction of the alarm. The labyrinthine corridors of the base seemed endless, but Sabine kept her wits about her, watching and memorizing every turn and corner, looking for any sign of the man she had come to find.
Finally, they came to a wide hallway where something unusual caught Sabine's attention. In front of the soldiers, a tall, thin droid was planted in the middle of the corridor. Its appearance was strange, but what stood out most was its ability to project a hologram. Before the stormtroopers, the droid assumed the form of a Jedi, wielding a lightsaber with precise, menacing movements.
At the droid's side, standing and shrouded in an aura of intensity and danger, was he - Galen Marek.
"Galen..." muttered Sabine, her voice barely a whisper under the helmet.
"Fire!" ordered one of the stormtroopers. Within seconds, the stormtroopers began unloading a volley of gunfire at the droid and the man.
Galen raised a hand, and the shots stopped in mid-air, hovering like frozen stars. His connection to the dark side was palpable, and the hallway seemed to darken, as if the atmosphere itself was responding to his anger.
Sabine, seeing her chance, spun on her heels and fired at the other stormtroopers, taking them down with surgical precision. The fluid, purposeful movements of one of the stormtroopers caught Galen's attention, who narrowed his eyes, sensing something.
With a wave of his hand, the shots he had stopped in mid-air were directed with precision toward the remaining stormtroopers. One after another they fell, their armor pierced by the gunfire. When the last trooper collapsed, only two figures were left standing - Galen and a stormtrooper who looked hesitant.
"Hey, you," Galen said, his voice low and demanding. "Take off your helmet."
The stormtrooper froze for a moment before slowly obeying. With a firm motion, he removed the white helmet, revealing a familiar face.
"Sabine." Galen said, his eyes narrowed as he recognized her.
"Hello, Galen." She replied with a mixture of relief and wariness, her lips curving into a faint smile.