The Bitter End

[Keagle]

Since we're feeling so anesthetised
In our comfort zone
Reminds me of the second time
That i followed you home

We're running out of allibies
From the second of May
Reminds me of the summer time
On this winter's day

See you at the bitter end
See you at the bitter end

Every step we take that's synchronized
Every broken bone
Reminds me of the second time
That I followed you home

You shower me with lullabies
As you're walking away
Reminds me that it's killing time
On this fateful day

See you at the bitter end
See you at the bitter end
See you at the bitter end
See you at the bitter end

From the time we intercepted
Feels more like suicide...

See you at the bitter end

The wind rustled through his hair, padding his dark brown locks softly against his forehead. His eyes were closed, his arms almost floating besides his body, using the casual lift of the breeze to keep his open palms aloft. He breathed deeply, two thoughts bouncing across his mind. The first, quite rational for a man who had been denyed his lover and unborn children:

'I'll never see my family again.'

The other, something less logical, and something rather cryptic to anyone whom had not been following his train of thought since his arrival in this hospital.

'I'd rather kill myself than burden her with a life in a mental institution.'

It was obvious. A week lying alone in a field, no food, no water. A woman claiming to be Jezebella - the lover he had watched die - saving his life, bringing him to a hospital for treatment, and leaving him to fend for himself against the hordes of doctors. The milky blue hospital gown flapping against his bare legs, as he stood on the edge of the hospital roof. The death he had been wishing for, over seven days.

He was insane. He was delusional. So he would spare everyone the misery of watching him throw himself against the padded walls of wherever they had stashed him away. Why was death the answer? Was it not just some selfish wish for him to be alone, to not have to cope with Jezeballa's death? No. He knew he was right. He was Tom Keagle, he was always right.

His toes curled around the cold wall beneath him. Funny how he cared about the sting of the breeze, when in a momeny he would be dead. He smirked, something of a trademark to those who knew him, and breathed in slowly, picturing his lover in his mind's eye. God, she was beautiful. He stepped forward.

"Well, here we go. Bye all, hope you can cope without me."

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Hope lost, hope won
Hope all gone down
In the face of all, time flies.

From dawn to dusk
An empty husk
Needs a little filling with lies.

"The last step, you must watch."

As Tom Keagle stared down into the depths of the machine city that was Coruscant, the length and surety of the drop presented itself to him in stark, uncaring terms. Whether he lived or died, the metal floor at the end that would splatter him into oblivion would go on. As would every other being on the planet.

Except one.

Spun around of will other than his own, Keagle came face to face with a small, misshapen dwarf of an alien with vicious teeth and hate in his eyes. A three-clawed hand pointed in his direction- all that stood between Keagle and a drop of thousands of meters.

"A doozy, it is."

[Keagle]

"Kind of counting on that fact," He grumbled, raising an eyebrow at the little man who had interrupted yet another suicide attempt. He shook his head slowly back and forth, and then turned back to the drop.

"You can watch if you want, but don't say I didn't warn you."

[Evil Hobgoblin]

"Well if fallin down is so wonderful an idea for ye, lad," said Hob. "Why not try fallin sideways instead?"

Hob's fingers gestured to the left, bringing Tom with them. His flight through the air ended abruptly as his body hit the wall of the rooftop exit.

As Tom sought to recover from his confusion, Hob peered down at him. "There now. Fun, was that not?"

[Keagle]

'Didn't feel much like a padded wall,' he thought.

Clutching at his shoulder, which had met roughly with a door-handle, he looked over at the dwarf. Although he had still failed to use the force as he would usually have done, he could still sense the Force around this man. Climbing to his feet, Keagle stopke again, a new confidence in his voice.

"What are you, and what gives you the right to throw me around?"

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Hob smirked. "Who is there to stop me, hm? You? You have not the skill."

His fingers lifted again, lifting Tom along with them. The fingers swayed slightly, and Tom's movements in the air mimiced his own. "If your mind had focus, discipline," Hob mused. "Then perhaps, a defense you could muster. But you do not."

Hob let go of Tom, allowing him to fall back to his feet on the rooftop. "And so, here we are."

[Keagle]

Not bothering to resist the man any further, Keagle just shook his head solemnly, cringing at the thought of what had just been said. He was a man who had prided himself on his clear mind, his fierce concentration on any task. No one with his Empire could match his mental skills, be it illusion, manipulation, or psychics of any kind. Yet here he was, disbelieving the reality which was so clear around him. What was he doing? There was no way he could ever become insane - he was a genius.

"We are," he started, narrowing his eyes on the goblin like creature "Yet for the life of me I can't find a good reason for either of us to be here."