What the Sith!
By: Apocalyptian Scribe
Man that took a while
Welp, let's bring this all together and make this EVEN MORE EPIC!
Arc 1 Korriban
Chapter 8: A Very Large Setback
It was a simple word, one annunciated by heavy breaths and distant stares. Jay loved that rascal of a verb as a single use of it could convey so much. Hatred, exhaustion, actual sex, Robot Unicorns rocketing into an alien shark exploding into a million pieces, but here it only meant one thing.
"For fucks sake," Jay said to himself as he pounded the floor with his right hand repeatedly. His left hand was wiping the sweat from his brow, shrouding his eyes in darkness as the salty drops were swept onto the floor.
As he looked up and around him, several figures emerged from the edges of his, at first, blurred vision. Acolytes of various shapes and sizes grouped around him. Strangely enough, they were all older than him where some were nearly a decade older. Even stranger was the fact that these acolytes were here to hurt him, oh no. They were here to help.
"Jay," the largest one shouted, Teeno was his name – if Jay was correct of course, "That looked like a nasty crash."
A female Acolyte, by the name of Phyne and who also looked slightly Asian, was quick to silence the larger man, "Quiet Teeno. He doesn't need someone shouting at him."
Jay would have told the both of them to calm down, but his head was just feeling off. Honestly, just how he had even ended up in the private training chambers with these two and several other less-inclined-to-murder Sith was somewhat of a blur. Luckily, it didn't stay away for long.
The two and their group had "ambushed" him after he left Baras' chambers. Though Phyne's silver tongue confused the teen, Teeno was luckily there to be as blunt as possible. They wanted to help him, or as the larger acolyte had said, 'get in good' with Jay. Not surprisingly, this Jay was reluctant and cautious to accept their help, but eventually his force . . mind . . . intuition . . . thing cleared things up for him. In a sense, he almost felt a bit of Vasharas' own vibes in them.
So he accepted and they detailed a full scale operation where they would take down Vemrin with poisons, bombs, lasers, and all those deadly mechanisms. It looked promising and there were failsafes to prevent anyone from knowing that Jay had ordered the hits. But there was just one problem . . .
He didn't want someone to kill Vemrin . . . he wanted to kick the annoying bastard's face in, granted, but he wasn't just about to play "Hunger Games Sith Edition DELUXE with extra backstabby goodness!" Jay had much more pride than that.
He wasn't a Sith, Jay was a god damn BAD ASS WITH FORCE POWERS. To kill or to stoop down to the Sith's level of treachery would have been degrading, especially when he had personally promised the asshole a proper meeting with his fist (knuckle cracking included). Plus, the teen would have preferred to do his dirty work and, if Jay was right, Vemrin wasn't called his equal/rival without reason.
So, without a plan to set into motion, the group had settled on helping Jay train with real lightsabers. How they had gotten it and how they had gotten in less than several hours' time, Jay didn't know. His guess was that these guys had a lot more tricks up their sleeve that he would be sure to use later.
Thus they trained and trained and trained and trained and found a train and while listening to Train (not really) and so forth and by the end of it, Jay was sweating, profusely, from the absolute severity and harshness of his regimen. Crazy as it might have been, the teen had been a fervent believer in throwing himself into what he needed to learn. Sure it was dangerous, but he didn't have the time to monkey around, he had to get ready in a week to fight against a REAL lightsaber user.
And then he found a big gaping hole that tore right into his plans.
The training, as crazy as it seemed on the surface, had only lasted for barely over half an hour.
And that was included with breaks.
He was so eager to start this at first, with all the hubbub of just deflecting off the energy blade and all that. In theory, it should have been easy to do as all he thought he had to do was hit the hot, destructive part of the lightsaber away and just smash his hand into a guy's face. But that was before he had to witness the heated fury of a lightsaber, feel every part of his hand seem to boil as he lost his concentration more and more with every passing second.
The bolts from a blaster were quick and easy, so he didn't really have much of a problem. Really all he needed to do was copy Darth Vader and hit one pews with another pew and that was that. The explosion from a bomb was easy too, it was simply a wave of energy that eventually dissipated. But lightsabers, ho boy, it was like trying to block the fucking power of the sun in the shape of an evil red FUCKING dildo.
Imagine a blade trying to come in contact with you and you try and grab it with your imaginary hand that you deemed "force." You try to grab it but you can't so you stop it by creating a wall between the energy blade and your hand. Its easy at first, but then the person holding the lightsaber starts pushing and then you feel the heat, the pressure, everything start to drill through. All at once, you swear the pressure of it all is starting to break your arm and blaze through your hand with the smell of burning iron leaving its mark. You try to hold the blade still and reinforce, but the amount of pain that you feel builds and your concentration breaks. Only in sheer desperation can you force as much force energy back out and away from the lightsaber, pushing both you and your enemy back.
Jay was not happy with this at all.
For starters, the clear and most distinct thing that this had done was leave him weakened, tired, and vulnerable to attack. Every time he had done it, he nearly blacked out every time and always took a break of at least two or three minutes before even trying to stand! Then there was the fact that the opponent would never have to break a sweat. Sure, there was some effort needed to push the blade forward, but that didn't cause people to start gasping for air. So right out of the box there was already a substantial loss in profits in the efforts vs rewards.
Next up, there was HOW he had to do this. As he quickly learned, Jay soon realized that this event could only be simulated with his hands. For any other location, he would shield for a time, but would not be able to push the enemy back and thus would, in a real life combat scenario, die horribly and painfully. Perhaps this was why whenever people used the force, they would do weird hand gestures. Huh, another question solved with more experimentations.
But besides that, Fuck.
Anything else were merely passing thoughts, but were also important to consider. What if he was fighting multiple lightsaber users? What if he was attacked in multiple angles? What if he was stuck and had to destroy debris that couldn't be moved by the force? The questions just started to stack to the point of ridiculousness.
"FUCK," finally said again as his fist hit the ground violently. The floor dented into the shape of his fist, giving him a hold on the ground as he finally got up. The group backed up, giving space to the visibly distraught Sith that had, moments ago, punched the ground with no visible sign of pain.
"I'm gonna eat something," Jay spat out, "We're done for today."
Making his way to the door, Jay walked as straight as he could, despite his exhaustion. The others didn't say a word. But just when he reached the door, Phyne raised her voice to catch Jay's attention.
"You know, if push comes to shove, you could just use a lightsaber."
The teen paused at the door, "That's what I'm afraid of."
And there was a different fear that was looming as well as he left.
"Jay" Vasharas's voice had not risen over her usual decibel. Her gaze washed over the other five at the teen's table, "I see you've made some more friends . . ."
Though they had been inside, it almost seemed that the morning's dawn was washing over them. As Jay looked up to Vasharas, the lights from above gave her the usual red flush that her crimson skin held. The other students still crowded around each table, but this day in particular, there were not as many around Jay's table as it had usually been.
Teeno, who had been sitting across from Jay, moved immediately out of Vasharas' way and, to her surprise, gave a quick bow to the Sith Pureblood.
"Sorry Miss Vasharas," he said. She looked impressed and nodded.
"Yea," Jay said scratching his head as he reached for another meat pie, "So you heard too?"
Vasharas raised her eyebrow and looked around as she finally caught the glances. She sighed and shook her head, "Yes, but that isn't true . . . right?"
He finished the meat pie and went for another glass of nectarine, "*gulp* . . . you heard right. I'm gonna be an apprentice,"
"What?!" she gave a shocked look, but quickly gave a genuine smile, "t-that's amazing. Who's your—"
"After I kill Vemrin in a one on one duel in front of the entire student body,"
An awkward silence passed as Vasharas' mouth opened agape, but closed once the words she once had left her mind. Jay continued to eat as if nothing had gone on while taking his time to force the piles of food into him. After the third cut of Shyrack steak entered Jay's mouth, Vasharas pulled her bearings and spoke to the teen.
". . . Jay, are you ok?"
". . . No . . . I've got a problem."
She paused, but continued to eat after saying, "And it is?"
"I have to use a lightsaber . . . or I'm fucked."
Vasharas froze. The words were not lost on her as she hovered a spoon full of cereal in front of her open mouth and quickly set it aside. Her memories of his pitiful lightsaber handling gave her the shivers. Last time he had used it, she almost cut one of the teachers in half.
"You know they aren't—"
Jay stared at her hard, stopping her mid-sentence, "I almost sliced that guy in half trying to hold it." He said pointing to the larger apprentice.
"Have you thought of any alternatives to this?"
"The only alternative I know of seems to fuck me just as much as having a lightsaber in my hand to dangle around with."
Vasharas tapped the table, "By how much more or less."
Jay looked at her, confused, "They screw me over, who gives a damn."
"Well perhaps you should consider training one over the other if that certain one has more advantages."
The dark haired Sith stopped his meal to ponder this. Vasharas' comment did make sense to him, but as he thought about it more, a look was starting to form on his face. A thought loomed over him grimly as he spoke in a frustrated tone.
". . . sigh, a lightsaber . . a lightsaber has more," he waved his head in the air, "advantages."
"Then train with one."
"I have a fucking SIX FUCKING DAYS. How in the hell am I supposed to go from a full on retard to being able to wield it without ramming that thing up my ass."
"Jay," Vasharas looked disturbed, "Your anger is unnecessary. I'm trying to help you."
"Well, I'm fucking pissed."
"Calm yourself," she too seemed to go more and more on edge, "Not everything is given on a silver platter."
"Do you know what it's like holding a saber in my shoes? Fucking god, who gives a crap, you're fucking set on that."
"I'm warning you, Jay. Shut up before you say something stupid."
"Why? HOW would you know how I felt, huh?!"
She tried to stop herself from speaking and closed her eyes, but Jay continued.
"Whenever I use a fucking lightsaber or a sword or some rigid as FUCK phallic shaped stupid shit of a weapon, it makes me want to murder the cunt that designed the stupid shit of a weapon. You feel anything, cause it's all fucking natural to you. I have to deal with this bullshit with my fucking life on the line."
Vasharas' calm demeanor broke as violently as a ceramic mask thrown at a wall. All her pent up rage and frustration, normally unseen by the youth, poured out like a violent flood that smashed into Jay.
"OH, I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU FEEL? I DON'T KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO BE IN A SITUATION WHERE I'M ALWAYS IN DANGER OF DYING OR WHERE MEN COULD SIMPLY HAVE THEIR WAY WITH ME? SHOULD I FEEL LUCKY TO BE ME AND NOT BE YOU? IS THAT IT?!"
The mess hall had quieted now. Everyone was looking at Vasharas' elevated form staring down at Jay. The teen almost thought it was a dream, a surreal dream where he would wake up on a moment's notice. But that did not happen, the dream only continued with Vasharas' speech.
"Jay," she began still visibly angry, "This is what it feels like to be the rest of us in this hall."
As she pointed at everyone, Jay followed to take notice of everyone else's looks and uncomfortable gazes. He even recognized some of them; they had taken a look at him earlier but turned away when he had returned. Of course, now that everyone was looking at him, they didn't have such qualms.
"Do you see all of us? About six out of every seven of us will die and be forgotten as the skulls that built thrones for greater Sith. And out of that one seventh, the ones that do survive, most of us will die anyways. We'll die horribly by other apprentices, other Sith, freak accidents, and maybe, IF we are lucky, by our own apprentices."
The thought had passed him before, but he had ignored it . . . unfortunately. Some of the faces that he saw were scared or angry, bringing home a fact that he had subsequently shoved away in the recess of his mind. This reality, this dream, this whatever – had real breathing people in it. Those statistics were happening in the very halls he walked.
Oh . . .
"Jay," she said, breaking the teen out of his stupor, "I know you are afraid and many of us are as well, but when you try to say that you have more right to anger or hatred than any of us, you'll be damned to know that you're wrong."
The teen gulped as she almost spat her last words, "You're already on the cusp of becoming a Sith Apprentice. In one month, you've shown far more in your force abilities than even some lower lords can imagine. You have gotten something we don't have. Please don't try to make a mockery of it or of our efforts to come close to your problems."
And with that, she took her tray and left Jay to ponder on her words.
And ponder he did.
The rest of the day he went through every history and technological text or holicron he could find to look for something, anything, for a lightsaber alternative. Vasharas' words distracted him somewhat, mostly hammering in the fact that he really had taken everything for granted.
During the full hour he took to eat, Jay actually held back on the food (food usually held back his thinking power). Had he really been whining like a bitch all that time? How could he have been so blind? Thoughts of Vasharas' face and all the others that had stared almost haunted him.
As much as he wouldn't have liked to have said it, he really didn't have much to say. Technically, he wasn't even supposed to be a Sith; he just woke up and was given free reign in some dude's body with the same name, same look, same everything. Now that he mentioned it, every part of his body was still the same . . . EVERY part.
But looking away from examining the size of some dude's fucking junk
He tried to ignore her words, but Jay was nervous now. The studying and scholarly functions had distracted him; this was what he was destined to face. He was going to be thrown into a conflict where he was going to have to fight to the death. Whether or not he triumphed here, he was going to fight others with families and tear them out from the realm of the living.
This wasn't fucking school where he kicked some guy's ass and got a pat on the back or just hung out with friends afterwards, this was his life. He would live, fearing for the next assassin, the next Jedi, the next Sith, the next apprentice that would come after him. Jay was going to have to live with blood spilling around every corner, whether they were his or someone else's.
In other words, fear had started to take hold.
When he finished, he ignored his classes, going straight into the archives to find something to aid him. But no matter how long he searched or how desperately he did so, Jay could see far too many holes.
The Sith sword, for example, was a weapon type created in the Golden Age of the Sith made from various metallurgical and arcane means. It was already heavier than a lightsaber and in the shape of a god damn sword, something Jay was surely cursed to never use. As for the method of forging, the only known records of such processes could not detail what was required to create the material that the Sith sword used and there were only swords left.
But even when he did find materials that resisted lightsabers, he found that they all shared a similar theme. They were heavy, as FUCK.
Creating gauntlets wouldn't be a problem, but creating full armors were hard maneuver in. Sure he could use the force to make himself faster, but eventually something would and could use their less armored self to outmaneuver him. Jay also wasn't the type to fight like a tank; he had always preferred mobility over defense since he himself wasn't the largest of men.
With segmented armor, having armor on only his arms, chest and legs, Jay felt just a bit more comfortable, but dissatisfied. He still couldn't solve the range problem with the armor as his fists would not doubt be preoccupied when against the larger range of a sword. Furthermore, this meant that he would be put on the defensive and that was where he drew the line.
Without an easy way to completely nullify a lightsaber's attack without the use of the force, as it apparently had some problem dealing with the destructive blade's composition, he wouldn't have the ability to fight other Jedi or Sith on equal terms. With these new revelations of the limits of his powers, Jay also started to have doubts about his powers. What if they weren't as special as he thought they were? There must have been so many that could easily exploit his now existing weaknesses and with this in mind he thought of the bastard Barrus who put him up to this.
Was this some sick experiment? It must have been, seeing as the Sith Lord should have known his terrible swordplay and his above average force ability. He was a guinea pig ready for the slaughter and if not, then he'd just be another corpse of an acolyte.
The more he looked, the more Jay grew fearful. The more he grew fearful, his doubt started to claw its way in. As it found the recesses of his mind, he grew angrier and angrier. Slowly but surely, Jay's mind grew more and more frustrated as the holicrons and texts shred his chances of victory and he finally snapped.
Throwing a holicron down onto the ground, the metal but fragile cube shattered as he shouted the single most proper word for him at that moment.
And he stormed out of the library, punching a doorway in the process.
The fear that surrounded Jay was unbearable now, choking him almost. The music was helping, but no matter what he tried to imagine, it always ended up with him dead on the floor. Images of him being cut down or beaten stirred in his mind like a poison slowly dissipating into his skin and entering into every crevice of his body.
Seeing as he couldn't stop himself from feeling his fear, the teen tried to sleep, but finding no solace in the darkness. It crept around him as it nuzzled the looming doom that lied after six days. His mind and the empty void almost talked, one asking the other if he'd run away or simply kill himself before the execution date. Silence was merely another void that his mind filled with whispers, voices that were taken from the various men and women he had talked to around the academy. They cursed him, slandered his very being until the sounds bounced upon each other into incoherence, becoming a screeching white noise that shattered the peace of what normal sleep was.
Pillow grabbed and wrapped around his head, he whispered to himself as he felt fear sink in more and more. The emotions he was feeling were escalating.
Had his mind been clearer, the teen would have recognized a trend that he had ever since he had become a Sith. From the moment his mind had taken in the concept of his new Sith background, a feeling of ecstasy and excitement grew. It was small at first, like a light touch or a soft whisper, but when he started to associate himself and accept his new life, he started to almost abuse his excellence like a drug.
Every action, every word, every moment had been to draw more from this emotional addiction. From showing off his force abilities by stopping an explosion to laughing down a Sith Lord, Jay felt like a god among men.
And then he had hit the rock wall.
Once he had realized his invincibility was nothing more than a fragment of his imagination, his mind started to crumble as the reality started to become clearer. He was not in a story where he was the protagonist and no one else mattered. He was not in some twisted dream where he was the hero and where everything would go his way. He was one of several thousand Sith Acolytes training and fighting to delay the day where they would finally see themselves die.
So his mind began to go into withdrawal
Withdrawal is a term that classifies a group of symptoms that show up upon the abrupt discontinuation or decrease intake of addictive substances. The symptoms range from headaches, sweating, vomiting, irritability, difficulty concentrating, anxiety, and so on. To say that Jay suffering like an addict would be somewhat accurate, but many could question what he was addicted with.
Was he addicted with his empowerment? I say no.
Was he addicted with godliness? I also say no.
Was he addicted with bitches and champagne and being a bad ass mother fucker who got his way? I also say . . . well . . . no not really . . . but that's beside the point.
He was not addicted to any of these things (though the last one was close).
But what he was addicted with . . . was his place in the universe. The idea that he could change the course of history and make his own rules in this universe gave him high that no real life drug could do. He could break the rules of the universe he had been set in . . .
But now, as he sat there alone in bed with the weight of the harsh reality coming down on him, Jay had become what he had been before, a stupid, stupid child.
"Fucking make it stop," he punched the everything around him, "Make it stop."
But it didn't and it went on and on as the escalation of all the things he heard in his mind grew to the point of no return. He could not bear it, so in a desperate attempt, and a silly attempt if you ask me, to sleep, Jay closed his eyes and smashed his head into the wall as hard as he could.
And he did finally find the silence he was looking for.
October 14, 2012
"Fuck you Jay," the tall footballer said to his face.
Jay's apartment was a cluttered mess and the door let in some of the only bits of light that could seep through. The light bounced off the stained carpet, the raggedy furnishings, and at last onto the husk of Jay Valus. Like that of an uneducated fool, the man looked worse for wear with his health and mind clearly degrading for all to see.
Gone were the hard toned muscles and in was a skinnier version of himself. He had scruffier hair and an unkempt and wrinkled shirt that was just as ugly as his pants. His apartment also had empty bags of chips, soda bottles, and alcoholic beverages scattered around. On the flip side, his friend was standing in the outside the door, still as "great" as ever going as far as wearing a dress shirt and a humble pair of shorts
Jay was leaning to keep some of the ugliness out of his . . . friend's view, mostly annoyed that the guy had appeared then and there. It had been a year or two since they had last seen each other, mostly due to Dillan being in college and Jay living a long ways away from the footballer's campus. The teen had acquired money from his mother's will and a job, but apparently Dillan had issues with his modest life style.
"Thanks and fuck you too," Jay said closing the door, but Dillan's large hand stopped it in its tracts.
"Why aren't you going to school?"
Jay held his gaze for a second and stood his ground, "Cause I fucking hate college."
"I told you I'd be here to kick some sense in your ass if I found out that you didn't go."
The teen sighed, "I gave back your parents fucking money. What more do you want?"
It was then that Dillan shoved Jay back, "What do you think? You're scaring everyone with your stupid shit."
Jay groaned as he shook his head. Hadn't talked to the others either in a while, even more so than buffy mc-muscle brains in front of him.
"I don't give a flying fuck about going to college. I'm fine."
"You," Dillan pointed, "Need a god damn education."
"WHY? HUH?" Jay rose both hands up in exasperation, "You wanna be some fucking white Oprah now?"
"Don't point this shit at me. You're good enough to go to college and you know it."
"Bullshit! I don't need to listen to your god damn peppy pre-teen crap."
"Oh, you don't do you," Dillan was nodding his head now, "Fine, I guess you're too much of a bitch."
Rage entered Jay's eyes, "Don't you dare fucking call me a bitch, I'll fucking gut you like a pig."
Dillan scoffed, "Oh, that's hilarious. You're a bitch and I know you're a bitch cause I fucking finally got your stupid act. I know what wrong with that bitchy little personality you got there."
"Oh, be my fucking guest Dr. Phil. What genius light you gotta shed on my mortal ass? What in the FUCK is WRONG WITH—"
"YOU GIVE UP AND FUCKING FREEZE" Dillan breathed in slowly, "every time something actually doesn't go your FUCKING way."
Jay froze, giving Dillan the 'ok' to continue, "I didn't know why the hell you didn't accept my money at first or why you didn't try talking to me about it, but I know now. You're afraid."
The teen glared at his mirror opposite, the other side of the spectrum from another dimension if you will. Jay couldn't believe this . . . this asshole was telling him what to do. How in the fuck would he know anything about Jay fucking Valus? Perfection reeked off Dillan's whorish body, almost insulted Jay's very being.
"Get the fuck out before I break your face in two."
The room quieted both men were cracked their hands in anticipation. However, instead of throwing a punch, Dillan did the one thing that hurt more, he talked.
"Remember that time when we tried making that comic book when we were little."
Memories passed him, "You trying pull some old bullshit on me, it was BOTH our fault that stupid shit sucked."
"Yea, and what happened when I wanted to try again, huh?"
Jay didn't speak; not because he didn't know, but because he knew the answer to the question.
"You didn't want to," Dillan continued, "you gave up."
"Fucking high school," Dillan ignored Jay's comment, "You did fine the first semester there, but when your grades slipped, you just fucking skipped class and I had to drag you into your fucking classes."
Jay snarled and his anger started to escalate, "Your-Fucking-Point."
"Your first karate tournament," Dillan said. Jay's eyes widened. The teen couldn't speak and the tension rose to a standstill.
"You told me you stopped training with formal karate because you 'lost interest' after a while and went into Taekwondo, and all that shit," Dillan began and wiped his mouth, "So I did a little digging and guess what I found."
The black haired Jay grit his teeth, "Don't you dare."
"First Karate tournament for Jay Valus, sixth place."
"First Taekwondo tournament for Jay Valus, seventh place."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU GOD DAMN CUNT." And with that, Jay smashed his fist into his friend's face and ran out the door.
SO this was it, huh? This was what he had been here for. Ever since the beginning, Jay couldn't get why his friend had taken a liking to him or why Dillan had even noticed him. The teen had thought that Dillan pitied him, wanted to help him. No, of course not. That was a fucking dream in some other world in a random void of impossibility speaking to him.
No, Dillan wasn't there to help him. He was there to feed on Jay. Jay was just a puppet being masterminded by a bastard that wanted to feed his ego in the best way possible. It was perfect; act like a loving friend and a mentor that wanted to help him and reap the benefits when Jay failed. That's why Dillan was there when Jay almost gave up high school, that's why Dillan was there when Jay almost got killed fighting someone with a god damn bat, and that's why Dillan was there when his parents died.
Because as Dillan pat his back, Dillan could just say to himself, 'I'm god damn fucking glad that I'm not him.'
. . .
. . .
. . .
So why was he crying?
Jay woke up in the dead of night, still feeling his memory speaking to him. October 14th, 2012 was the last memory he had before waking up here. He remembered now.
After he punched Dillan, Jay would go and visit another friend, uninvited mind you, and enjoy the party. The guys telling him to leave would get their asses kicked and, while the rest of the night was hazy, he remembered once and for all how he got here.
He had been shot, not stabbed.
Jay had broken a glass furnishing and threw a guy out a glass door when one of the guys pulled a gun and shot him. The alcohol stopped him from feeling too much pain, but then he got stabbed twice by a different guy trying to get Jay off the bloodied and mangled face of his opponent. After that, he ran away again, like he had always done.
He ran when he gave up college. He ran when he gave up his mother. He ran when he gave up his passion for sports.
And ran right into death
. . .
And now he was here with nowhere to run. Jay cracked his hand as something stirred within him. He remembered that long and convoluted quote from Yoda. The old creature practically said it for him in his mind.
Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. He had feared for long enough and fear had taken him to the dark side. It was now time to step closer into the dark . . . and give the suffering to those he deemed worthy of his wrath.
Vemrin for example
Jay looked at his smartphone, which had now stopped playing music and started playing his saved videos. The video it was on wasn't anything spectacular, just a trailer for one Mass Effect 3's multiplayer pack. It had passed one guy and another guy and a weapon or two when it finally caught his eye. All this time he had been looking for a way to be on the offensive and when he looked at this one thing, his eyes widened and his mouth curled in the a deadly smirk.
Jay Valus was back in business.
As I thought more and more about the story, I couldn't help but think that Jay's powers were TOO strong. I decided to limit his force potential to be like one like Starkiller and such. They are both powerful, but they still have weaknesses, doubts, and personality issues. Force-wise, I'd say that Jay is powerful enough to force something as large as a Star Destroyer into the ground (like in Force Unleashed). That being said, I hope you guys like guessing what the weapon is until I reveal it.
Please review :D
PS: The Fight will be on chapter 10 and I will pump the next two chapters out in about a week or so. Keep watching :D