Grasping for Stars (Mike)

[Ezra Na'chtion]

- Tanaab -

"... is down seven percent. Enrollment is down ten. This period saw four students leave the academy. The exit interviews were all different shades of unease over the growing hostilities in the galaxy. The parents did not believe us capable of protecting their children without support from the Alliance or the Empire. We are working with Regalia Inc. to push a new ad campaign to replace our missing revenue flow. The campaign is estimated to cost ten thousand credits and is projected to make us ba...."

The board room chatter died away as his eyes glazed over and his attention shifted away from the concerned faces and black suits to the large double windows at the end of the stone chamber. Outside was a beautiful day. It was winter on Tanaab, but that barely meant anything. Only a mild shift in the weather. A cool breeze, more rain. Nothing that could not be defeated by a light jacket. Still, he could not help but wish he was out there in the spotty sunlight. Anywhere but here. The logistics of running an Academy was not lost on him, but that did not mean that he found it at all interesting. During these meetings he often retreated into memories, of when he had been free and unanchored. Exploring the galaxy and taking all that he wanted.

Now he had... tenure. Safety. Security. An ever-flowing income of support and credits from the city. Even if every student stop coming he no doubt would continue to be funded one way or another. The students were only a front, a way to pick out those with potential to join the Sith Order. However, even that was just another step, another distraction. What he wanted was to spend time in his lab, with his apprentices, with his monsters. That was were his heart lay. All this budget balancing, ad campaigns, and bureaucracy was just the means to facilitate that.

And it was so exacting and exhausting that it left him with no time left to pursue his passions.

"Excuse me. Excuse me. Mr. Na'chtion? I'm sorry to interrupt, but you left explicit instruction to let you know in the case that the Talos machine activated. It has."

"Thank you, Leira. If you'll excuse me, I will be back in just a moment."

Pushing back his chair and leaving the board room, Ezra dusted off his black teacher's uniform to hide the trembling in his hands. The Talos machine was a small super computer dedicated to trolling through the ever expanding holonet looking for whatever it was instructed to. Not an uncommon machine and often found in many industries that wished to keep on top of growing trends or track customer satisfaction. However, the one nestled into a corner of his office was instead searching for any of the former members of the Sith Order. Names, faces, known aliases, nicknames, physical descriptions. Ezra had salvaged any personal information he could find from the Temple ruins and pieced the rest together by memory or from recovered personal journals.

Closing and locking his office door behind him he activated the attached console and scrolled through the menus to see what had triggered the hit. He assumed it would be Lancer again, a ghost in the wind that he only ever caught whispers of, and usually far too late after the fact to track him down. His eyes went down the list of keywords, looking for the one with the notification beside it. Finally, halfway down, he found it. Michael Cline. The name did not jump out at him, but then again neither did most of them. A lot of these names were from before his time. Some so cryptic that he could hardly believe that there was ever any individual who went by monikers like Lady Vader or Warlock. However, those had been the names in the records.

Cline... Cline... Michael Cline... Oh yes. Now he remembered. That was a name he had pulled from one of Baralai's journals. One of his social experiments, from what Ezra gathered. Michael was not in the official records, which meant he was never a real member of the Sith Order. An acquaintance or third party of some sort. It as not unlike Baralai to take on pet projects. The man had certainly had a wide breadth of interest. That meant that this Michael was likely not all that important and more likely a cruel fascination. However, he might have information as to where Baralai was located.

Tapping the screen he brought up the hit on the holonet that the Talos machine had found. It was from an advertisement video, for the Cumulus Casino on Cloud City. Strange so far. Watching the video it was clearly just a series of smash cuts of people enjoying themselves at the Casino games. So fake. So trivial. What a pathetic existence these cretins live. Talos pinged loudly and threw up a red reticle over the face of a figure in the background. Male. Pale skin. Red hair. Fake smile barely disguising clear disgust in his eyes. The image from the database, plucked from Baralai's records, was brought up to compare. Oh yes. Definitely the same individual. Very good.

Moving over to his personal console at his desk, he immediately drafted a letter, addressed to Michael Cline and sent to the Cumulus Casino. Ezra knew that he held no clout with this man. There was no reason for him to give even a second of his time. However, he knew how to get people's attention. Tapping at the keys he wrote a simple, short message: It's time we meet again. Korriban, sector 7H. I'll be waiting. -Baralai Lotus

It was good and to the point, and yet it was missing that quintessential touch that Baralai had. He agonized over the message for ten minutes before finally resigning himself to adding a heart before Baralai's name. That would fit into the man's wild and often erotic way of antagonizing others. That felt right. Besides, Baralai was the kind of many that attracted others to himself. Either this man would come quickly and willingly, or not at all. In the latter case, then Ezra had no other recourse and this was simple a waste of time. He certainly wasn't going to go to Cloud City to meat with him. He'd have no advantage there. It wasn't like he could take his Sithspawn there. No. Better to be on his own grounds, away from the academy.

Korriban, in the corpse of the old Sith Order, would be suitable enough.

"Leira, have a shuttle prepared for me. I'll be traveling to Korriban again."

[Michael Cline]

- Cloud City, Bespin -

Mike stared at the sheet of flimsi on his kitchen table like it would bite him if he stopped. He'd been given it this morning when he got into work, a letter addressed to him and sent to the Casino. He'd stuck it in a jacket pocket and forgotten about it until he'd gotten home that evening. He'd read it twice before it registered and a third time before he believed it. Now he sat locked in a staring contest with an inanimate object across from him. The frell. The actual frell. He could feel a lump in his throat as the pounding of the blood in his veins echoed like a war drum.

"It's time we meet again. Korriban, sector 7H. I'll be waiting. - <3 Baralai Lotus"

He wanted to scream. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. Lotus. Baralai. He'd been thinking about him recently and now this. This letter. The meeting with Lancer had brought up all kinds of feelings that he had pushed down over the years since it had happened, all kinds of emotions. Mike ran a hand through his hair hard enough to come away with loose red strands. His muscles were taught from anxiety and the need to do something, anything to clear his bottled energy. He tried to calm himself, tried to reason it through.

First. It was clearly a trap. Second. Baralai knew where Michael was, so he couldn't ignore it - trap or not.

Michael should just go to Prent, or to Ms. Sasseeri. Let the syndicate handle this. It wasn't his concern anymore. A knot formed in his stomach, the nightmares he'd been dealing with lately flaring back up in his mind. He layed his head against the table and swore into the countertop as if it had cheated him at cards. He didn't want them involved. He didn't want to drag Ms. Sasseeri or anyone else into more of his past life's drama, but here it was threatening him. Again. He'd go on his own, be smart about it. Hire a private charter, have them keep close, he wouldn't get stuck there in the trap. He'd go to Korriban and kill that bastard.

Joy leaped into Michael Cline's heart, a sick smile breaking his lips. He'd kill him. It felt so good to think that thought after so long. He'd restrained himself for so long. Acted as the professional. Done his job, kept his nose clean outside of what the Black Sun needed him to do. He had a momentary thought back to the conversation with Zereth in the bar, the guilt he'd felt. Frell the guilt. Baralai Lotus deserved this. If he enjoyed it, got some... relief from it, who had the right to judge him? He felt adrenaline rush back through him and stood, staring at the letter in front of him with condemnation in his eyes.

"Fine. You want a reunion?" He growled out as if the flimsi could understand or answer him. "I'll bury you with the rest of you order."

-5 days later-

It had taken nearly a week to get everything in order. He'd hired a pilot to get him to Korriban, arranged his work schedule to allow for several days away in a row and paid off who he needed to to slip weapons onto the ship and past customs. Nothing too heavy, unfortunately, but at least a blaster and a few tactical vibro blades. He refused to go into this empty handed, and he was certain Lotus wouldn't be unarmed. As the red head boarded the ship for Korriban he could feel an unease and tension to his muscles. He wasn't sure if he was angry, terrified or excited. All he was certain of in that moment is that the darkside danced through and around him like freed prisoner, Cline's restraint slipping as the doors closed behind him. Baralai Lotus was going to die.

[Ezra Na'chtion]

- Korriban -

The wind rustled long faded and torn tapestries, kicking up sand and sending it swirling down the long channel. On either side loomed giant stone faces worn beyond recognition. Their histories lost and buried along with their people. The Valley of the Sleeping Kings, as the natives had once called it, was home to hundreds of tombs dedicated to the ancient Sith Kings, and later the original Lords of the Sith. Each tomb the final burial place for some great warrior or wise king. It was once a place of great significance, and now it was nearly lost to time. The sands had long ago rolled in and reclaimed the land, and only the pathway that wound between the tombs, once a great highway, was visible at all. The giant faces and statues sat half-buried and nearly invisible.

Only those who knew the way could travel without fear. The tombs were filled with traps, or worse. Haunting spirits or entombed ghouls protected great sarcophagi hidden deep within hidden rooms or behind puzzled walls. Many had been sacked, and the piles of bones upon the floors were testament to the cost. One tomb, much more mundane compared to the others, sat nestled in the Valley, and within it was an event greater secret. The traps had not been armed in a great long time, and many bones could be found around, within, and all through the twisting hallways beyond. The Temple of the Sith Order. Now long abandoned, it had once been home to an entire institution of Sith. Now the halls echoed empty, and all treasures had been removed and the dead laid to rest.

Now it was just an empty memory.

Ezra had arrived days ago. With his apprentices in tow he set about preparing himself for the arrival of Michael Cline. The shuttle was hidden away under a deceptive tarp to make it appear as little more than a large stone. Korriban was not as dead and empty as it had once been. Some kind of Imperial installation had sprung up not far from the Valley. If he had but the power to he would see such a desecration wiped clean from the planet surface. Whomever they were they were up to no good. There was nothing to be easily gleaned from Korriban, save for the dark secrets of the Sith. Ezra was loath to share that.

Cline did not arrive immediately. That was well enough. There was more than enough to do to pass the time. It was not the first time he had crept back into the Temple with his acolytes in tow. It was very important for them to know where this had all began, and where it had nearly ended. They needed to know the history, so that they would not repeat it. There had been a weakness, one that was exploited, and lead directly to their ruin. Baralai had seen it. He knew it was there, and when the smoke had cleared the two of them had seceded immediately. They no longer needed something as weak as the Sith Order. Not anymore.

What a strange twist of fate that he had been thrust right back into it.

His four acolytes, with their dark robes and fondness for their lightsabres were exactly the sort that the old Order would have cherished. Though it pained him, he found himself falling back into those all patterns, the old dogma. It was how Frygt wanted the Academy run, and in her absence he carried the torch even if he himself disliked the glare of the flames. Ezra had to admit that big brutes were useful when battle was to be done, but he would always prefer to handle things more... intelligently. Sentient soldiers were nearly useless at this point. His Sithspawn were coming along quite well. At least having them help him better handle the few specimens he had brought along. If Michael Cline is to be wooed, or intimidated, than the proper pressure would need to be applied. The Sithspawn were equally awe inspiring as they were terrifying. One method would prevail today.

"My lord, there is a ship incoming."

Hopefully that was Cline, and not a scout from the installation.

"Hide yourselves. I may need you. Jorm, uncage my children."

Stepping back out into the harsh sunlight, Ezra stood in the doorway of the tomb, half hidden in shadow. Grabbing hold of his hood he pulled it up and over his head. No sense in revealing that he was not Baralai just yet. Wait for Michael Cline to get too close to run. Striding forward he made himself visible as he moved directly into the highway channel.

[Michael Cline]

Mike leaned over the pilot's shoulder, his name was... Trym, Tryp, something stupid. Mike hadn't bothered to get to know the guy. He needed a pilot for a few hours who would keep his mouth shut and take cash under the table. The less they actually knew each other the safer it was, honestly. They'd kept away from the Imperial outpost, which had come up on their initial scan and started searching the outlying areas. Mike was already facing down one of his nightmares, he wasn't keen to hunt out another at the same time.

Cline stifled a laugh behind his lips. A cloak. A damned hood and cloak. Well the Sith were nothing if not predictable. "Fly us behind the rocks." He motioned at a clearing that would provide them some cover if necessary and would keep the ship out of sight. He was sure Baralai would already know they were here, he was probably tracking the ship from the moment they arrived, but any potential help, no matter how minuscule, in the event of needing to rabbit would be beneficial. The ship touched down and Mike fixed the pilot with a dead serious stare. "You don't talk to anyone. You don't let anyone but me on board. If things get hairy and I can't get back to the ship you get off the ground and circle round till we can rendezvous." He stuck a thumb back in the direction of the Imperial facility. "And absolute worst case scenario? You buzz the Imps in the ship and get them chasing. See if we can't run the Empire into anything bad going on over here. Let them fight it out." It was a terrible backup plan, but it was better than nothing, after all when push came to shove Michael Cline was an Imperial citizen with all his paperwork in order and access to some quite efficient legal services.

He let the shuttle door open and stepped out into the sunlight, slipping a pair of solar shades over his eyes in the process. He'd forgo'd his usual black suit for a light jacket over street clothes. It felt weird to be back in an outfit like this. He hadn't dressed this casually since... well since the last time he'd dealt with Lotus. He checked the holster strapped to the inside of the jacket and the blaster there. Then reached back to confirm the vibro blades sheathed against his back. This was it. Baralai Lotus was right there. He was finally getting revenge for Leiko, he was finally putting this entire ordeal behind him. He smacked the door once to signal to Trysh, Tryll? Damn what was his name? Whatever. He watched the shuttle close back up with a nod and walked ahead, finally coming into view to stare down the robed figure ahead of him. He didn't advance, fingers tensing and untensing into fists as he watched him from a distance and the sunlight blazed down upon them.

"So. Long time no see." He growled, his heart pumping loud enough to echo in his ears. The memories of this man, of what he did, what he said flooding him and building to a fever pitch of anger. Mike was furious.

Mike was terrified.

[Ezra Na'chtion]

On so dead a world the mere existence of life blossomed like supernovas in the dark of space. There was life at his back, his acolytes and children, and in the distance at the Imperial fortress. Beyond that it was dead and empty. The flora and fauna had long ago become incredibly scarce, and the valley of the sith was avoided by any species with any intelligence. So it was, with so little in his purview the incoming life was immediately picked up. Distant, almost lost in the background noise, but growing stronger as it came closer. Ezra couldn't know it was Cline until he finally stepped out from around the many piles of rocks that composed the ruined valley and strode into view.

Confident. Focused. Good.

Ezra said nothing, letting the hood hide his identity until the man had come closer. He was younger than he had anticipated. He thought those holos grossly out of date. What he saw was a young man only a little older than himself. It would appear that Baralai had a type when it came to his apprentices. There was great emotion falling off the man, but Ezra could not put his finger on just what it was. He was never so good at reading people. It was intense. That made Cline unpredictable and therefore dangerous. Whistling loudly in a mimicry of his own father's call from the shop.

From the parapet of the Tomb face, from around rocks on the ground, and atop rubble his acolytes emerged from their hiding places. Four of them. Each clothed in black robes, each clutching matching silver bodied lightsabre hilts with black grips. They stood still, not advancing, arms loose at their sides, weapons inactive. Ezra reached up and took hold of his hood and pulled it back to reveal his sandy hair and pale complexion.

"Hello Michael. Thank you for coming on such short notice. I apologize for manipulating you. I feared you would not come any other way. I am Ezra. I greatly wish to speak with you."

[Michael Cline]

There was the trap, as expected. Mike watched as the robed figures rose up to create a ring between the two. He knew he'd been walking into the lion's den when he arrived. This was going to be a long con if he was going to get his chance to take Baralai's life. He had to wait for his moment and that was...

The hood came down and the face that greeted him was not the expected one. Mike's blood pressure spiked at the change, heartbeat hammering in his ears as it all fell apart around him. "I apologize for manipulating you... ...I am Ezra." Cline closed his eyes for only a moment behind the sun shades and regathered himself. This changed nothing. This was still his best link to Lotus. This was still something he couldn't ignore since he'd been 'outed' at his job. He'd planned on killing the apprentice anyway, as soon as Lancer had talked about him. Baralai's whole twisted garden needed to wither away.

"Na'chtion?" He finally asked to take back a bit of control that had been wrested away by the reveal. Let the little Sith wonder how much Michael knew exactly. "So I take it your master isn't here."

Mike had been mentally preparing to deal with Lotus, Ezra... was an unknown, and was keeping his emotions in check well enough that Mike wasn't getting much from him or his friends. He was going to have to play this close to the chest and bluff as much as possible to have a chance here, hopefully he'd picked up some of those habits from working for Prent.

[Ezra Na'chtion]

Ezra's passive face curled into a grin. How interesting that this man he had never interacted with knew his name. He should not have expected so little from one of Baralai's chosen. Truly this man was much more than he appeared. That would mean this venture could be even more profitable than he had planned. However, he could not let his unbalance at the shift of power show. He needed to maintain the foundation of control he had started this encounter with, lest he lose the upper hand from which to pressure his opponent into submission.

"Unfortunately our master is not here. I had hoped that you were in possession of his whereabouts. If he had not revealed himself to me than surely it would be to you, his second favorite."

He needed to cement that ideology, that Ezra was the golden child and Michael was second best. He needed that power dynamic if this was ever going to be a success. He already guessed, based on Michael's words, that he also did not know where Baralai was. That was fine. It was a shot in the dark that he was prepared to miss. There was still the second part of this encounter, where he manipulates the man into joining the Sith Order. Anyone who was a protege of Baralai Lotus would make a fine ally, and he needed all the strength at his back that he could find.

It was not just a matter of growing power, but of the very survival of the Sith Order. Already it was stagnating, dying. Without Frygt there was only so much he could do. His own training had been rather one note under Baralai, and as a result there was only so much he could teach his acolytes. The rest they had to learn from more traditional pathways; learning lightsabre techniques from unsensitive duelist trainers and acrobatics from actual acrobats. It was not the same. They did not possess the power of the force and could never know how to teach it's use. More adepts meant better training. No doubt Baralai had taught Cline something great in their time together.

[Michael Cline]

Michael should have gone with the implication, smiled and played the part of Ezra's 'brother' to their 'father' - it would have been the smart move to get himself into a position where Ezra would be vulnerable, but he couldn't do it. The stomach churning knot that had formed from the moment the young Sith had referred to Baralai as 'their' master was causing so much intense revulsion and disgust throughout him he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his lunch down. No he'd never be able to bluff or fake his way through it. He wasn't that good an actor. Better a deception that seemed honest at least.

Swallowing down the sick as best he could he raised and shook a finger in disagreement just slightly, before tipping the finger in Ezra's direction. "Your master." He corrected. "Baralai did want me to leave my teacher and follow him but..." Mike levied his hand in an open palm gesture, "We had disagreements." He let his hand trail back down to rest at his side and watch the responses Na'chtion gave to his statements. He was risking setting the Sith off if he was too flippant, so he avoided the petty response at Ezra being the 'back-up' option that had immediately sprung to mind at the young Sith's attempt to 'put him in his place.'

"But I'm here, at any rate." He feigned the best smile he could manage. "I'm sure you wouldn't have gotten me all the way out here just to ask me if I knew where Lotus was. So, what can I do for you... friend?"

[Ezra Na'chtion]

Ezra frowned. Not because he had been wrong in his assessment of the situation, but because Baralai's journal had painted a very different picture. His words oozed obsession sprinkled with black lust. There was no such emphasis elsewhere in his journal, not even the chapters in which Ezra was his active apprentice. They had disagreements. That sounded like a gross oversimplification of whatever had forced a schism between them. Lovers' quarrel, no doubt. Ezra lacked the prerogative to be sexually inclined toward Baralai, or anything else for that matter.

It was disgusting to think that the brilliant Baralai Lotus had invested so much time and energy into grooming an apprentice who ultimately slapped away the hand of a god. Still...

"For Master Lotus to speak so strongly of you there must have been great potential he saw in you. What he began, let me complete. I offer you a position within my circle..." He gestured wildly, his arms outstretched to indicated all around him in a grandiose display that was far too theatrical for his own tastes. However, he knew well the trappings of the Sith and what was often expected of them. Black robes. Obsidian thrones. No railings. Ezra hated it, though his acolytes ate it up with enthusiasm. "The Sith Order has risen anew. No longer does the temple behind me mark it's tomb. It rises from the ashes with a new zeal, with new allies, and with new power."

[Michael Cline]

Michael's anger flared instantly at the offer, and he had to fight to force it down, kicking himself for the display that Ezra had surely picked up on. The whole thing was so tiring, of course that's what he had been asked here for. Of course. The Sith were so set in their ways, the robes, the theatrics. Alone in a cave somewhere preaching at starry-eyed children about their power and strength and oh Dren he could just die thinking of it. Give him civilization, life, reality. Who actually liked this tosh? This whole trip disgusted him, a knot of complete hatred roiling in his stomach from even having this conversation.

"Going to pass." Michael said bluntly, firmly. He couldn't fake it, couldn't play possum and wait for the time to strike, all of it sickened him too much. The talk of restoring that useless Order, the idea that he... he himself may join it? It was the same crap he'd been dealing with since he was a teenager. What did it take to make these people understand? Why couldn't they either evolve or just die quietly. His anger flared up again and he couldn't cap it. fingers digging into his palm as he balled his fists tight enough to trickle thin lines of red from between his fingers.

"The Sith Order died." He growled, a timber set to his tone of voice, "Let it stay dead already. It wasn't just the note." Michael said accusingly, "You're still pretending to be him, or is that all you can be?"

Michael had come here to kill Baralai. He'd found the man's apprentice instead. An apprentice who seemed intent on wearing his Master's shoes like a child playing dress-up. It was pathetic.

[Ezra Na'chtion]

The crushing wave of disappointed was quickly washed away by this new feeling of... confusion? If not for the tone of the man's voice Ezra would have been quite lost in what his accusation was. He was trying to insult, to hurt, but he only reinforced the resolve of the young alchemist with the strongest of compliments.

"Baralai Lotus is the God that floats atop the Ziggurat, and the stairs to him are infinite. I can never be him, even though I climb each step just as he has. With the same tools. The same beliefs. I will fail, but I will fail magnificently. You choose to not to follow even though you have seen the summit. To know the truth and deny it is the greatest of sins. The Sith Order cannot die. It will always exist, in one form or another. Such is the will of the Darkside. Mine is merely the hand that guides it in this moment."

It was disgusting to know that this man had been shown perhaps even more than Ezra, had glimpsed further into the Master's mind. Seen plans that Ezra could only believe must have existed, and yet he still chose not to. He was a man drowning in uncertainty, and when the fog pulled back and a hand reached out to save him, he instead chose to slap it aside and sink. A starving man who was shown the greatest food source in existence, and instead he turned and ate dirt. This was not simply rebellion against the truth. It was madness.

[Michael Cline]

Mike's face turned first to rage, then confusion. What was this complete nonsense he was spouting, he wasn't surprised to hear Baralai had continued to treat himself as if he were a God. The man's ego and narcissism was something Cline would never be able to forget. His insistence on his Godhood. So he'd finally found someone who believed it, and now this man - was continuing the same path. No, even worse. The confusion turned to a moment of sadness then amusement, and Michael laughed. He couldn't help it.

"I'd almost... I'd almost understand this delusion if you thought yourself the master, the God. But this? This is pathetic. You worship him. HIM." He looked at the acolytes surrounding their meeting, once again aware of how dangerous the situation was, but it was too late. Michael couldn't stop his words, "And you? You follow this nonsense?" He turned back to Ezra and shook his head. "I just... I can't with you Sith. Why are you all like this? Why can't you see how broken this is..." He all but whispered. "It's utter madness... you don't learn." the layer of amusement, of pity at the situation boiled off like a thin residue atop scalding water as his anger flared and thrashed inside him. "None of you can evolve. You're so stuck in your ways, the will of the Darkside? Don't make me laugh." He growled, "This isn't a temple. This isn't even a tomb. It's a chain around your neck! A millstone dragging you to an inevitable you can't escape!" He felt like he'd burst apart at the seems, the rage and fury stoking the Darkside as he wallowed in it like a hog in the mud.

"Robes. Caves. Acolytes. You're repeating the same failed script over and over again!" Michael locked eyes with Ezra, let his own anger and Darkside crash down upon himself as he stood ready, prepared to fight if he must. He'd claw his way from this planet clutching a severed finger from each of these drones as a souvenir if he had to. Why couldn't the Sith learn. Why couldn't they evolve. This was everything Michael had been terrified of becoming and now that he saw it with his own eyes he wasn't afraid of it in this moment. He merely despised it. It was so weak.

[Ezra Na'chtion]

"This new Order is nothing like the old. You talk of heavy millstones dragging us down, but we have already cut those stones free. We are not lead by an indecisive madman without vision and a stubborn ideologist blinded by his so called honor. Jorshal and Zereth are gone. Those weaklings that came before them, that chose to land to roost on this dead world, to hide from the galaxy and never rise to their station are gone. Forgotten. Everyone is dead or has abandoned the path; like you. We have what they never did. We have a goal, we have the teachings of Baralai Lotus. Avoid stagnation. Pursue change. Evolve. Our agenda moves in leaps and bounds, we hide in plain sight, and we are ready to strike. Our empire is assured."

He could feel Michael's rage. It was blinding, like a torch upon the dark and rocky cliffs. It made his own acolytes appear as weak flames; barely alive in comparison. It reminded him so much of Jinsala, his very promising protege. What she lacked in discipline she made up with raw ability. He could see similar potential in Michael. Such a well of darkness he would make a great sith even if he clearly lacked the drive and mindset. He could be shaped, he could be bent and forced. That's what the Sith that came before would have done, and had done so many times. But Ezra saw the pitfalls for what they were. Those tactics bred loathing and distrust. He would have no part of that in his Sith Order. His recruits were all willing. Nobody was coerced. No one was forced. It was willing or not at all. He wanted loyal soldiers, not slaves.

"See how we have evolved..."

Lifting a hand he made a twirling, twisting motion with his fingers and wrist and behind him the door into the tomb was pulled open. A shrill cry echoed from beyond the dark portal. The air was still for a moment and then several shapes came screaming into view. They ran on thick legs, close to the ground, with skin of leather and chitin, and mouths filled with razor sharp teeth. The size of large dogs, with small beady eyes, and talons upon each foot and spikes from their shoulders. They moved with great speed and closed the gap quickly, only to suddenly stop at Ezra's side. Each fixed their eyes on Michael; viscous liquid dripping from their mouths.

They absolutely reeked of the darkside.

"Do you know what these are?"

He smiled, at last. Happy to prove this naysayer wrong.

[Michael Cline]

Mike could feel his eyes wanting to roll out of his skull and flee this do-nothing, worthless planet. It was still so rote and on script. Promises that it was different this time, announcements of their power, the same words. The same words. Sudoku had made promises just like this. Baralai as well. It was all speeches and scheming. There was never any measurable success or... he felt his head tilt instinctively at the arrival of... the monsters. That was the only appropriate name for the beasts. It took a lot of presence to make a dent in his lack of training, to make him feel the darkside push back against his own roaring flame within it. Ezra? Sure, enough so that he had figured it was Baralai before the hood had come down. The lackeys surrounding them, not a blip. Those things that had just arrived? He felt them. They weren't an Ezra, a Baralai, hell they weren't even that weird bird-looking Sith who had shown up at his favorite bar, but they were still enough to make him stop.

Mike considered shooting back a sarcastic remark at the question, but there was something more pressing than his smart mouth at the moment. Mike's lower lip jutted slightly as he thought, chewing on his words before shaking his head ever so slightly.

"They're proof I'm wrong." He admitted, raising both eyebrows as he said it, even surprising himself. "When I said you were just trying to be Baralai. You're not."

He shook his head harder as the ideas formed into solid opinions and disappointment marred his face. "And that might be the saddest part of this entire joke. You're trying to be. You want to be, and you don't even see it." He motioned at the dog-like beasts, then the acolytes, then back at Ezra. "This? All of this? Is already more than I ever saw Baralai accomplish. It's actually something... real. Something... tangible." He felt it, the drag to want to listen to what Ezra had to say, that old familiar call that had originally drawn him to serve Sudoku. Had even made him consider Baralai's offers. But he'd been down that road. He knew exactly what it meant to be the disciple of a Sith. The lies, the manipulation, the abuse.

Damn, but if there wasn't a part of him that wanted to agree with the Sith's siren call. He focused on his pain, on his past, on all the anger it caused him and let it burn out that candle of desire, he wasn't going to allow himself to be the puppet of another Sith, not again. The chance to kill Ezra was gone, there was too much here stacked against him. Trying to would just see him dead instead. He let that fact focus his rage to keep his heart set in stone as his end goal changed to seeing himself off this planet instead.

"Stop with the theatrics already." He growled, "I'm not them." He shoved a finger at the hooded acolytes. "I don't care about this... tripe. You're not going to 'wow' me into your service."

[Ezra Na'chtion]

"Then we have nothing more to discuss."

This conversation was going no where. Around and around in circles as they took their turns in this stalemate chess game. A show of power or knowledge, followed by a staunch refusal. Repeated again and again. Ezra could appreciate Michael's stubborn refusal to budge on his stance, even if it was horribly and negligently wrong. He wanted to continue to press, to fight on in this battle of wits. He needed to be right. He needed to show that Baralai was wrong to choose this one. And this was it, an absolute victory but it did nothing to relieve the doubt he could feel growing in his mind.

This was one of Baralai's disciples; hand picked by the Master himself. This was a man of huge potential, who had been shown the truth, and was just so absolutely against it. He could not understand what it was that he knew that made this the hill he was willing to die on. And die he could. Ezra would be completely within his rights to annihilate the man from the face of Korriban. His children would be more than enough to achieve that. One man was nothing to fear. One man could not destroy an idea. But one man could create one.

"Just know that without Baralai Lotus I would not be here. He has trained and guided me. These Sithspawn are as much his creation as mine. Without him I would have never achieved this potential. I would still be a poor, miserable boy on Tatooine too afraid to assume my potential. Hiding my light under a bushel, as the children's song goes. He made me what I am. He may have never constructed Sithspawn of this complexity, but he did make me. He made you, too. We shall see if that ever comes to fruition. Goodbye, Michael."

With that he turned on his heel and marched back toward the Sith Temple, reaching back and pull his hood back over his head as he did so. Turning his head to the side as he walked he called out one last time:

"Get off my planet before I have you destroyed."

His acolytes melted back into the landscape. Behind dune, rock, and ruin until the landscape was free of their inky presence. The Sithspawn lingered a moment, staring at Michael before finally chasing after Ezra and taking a formation around his knees as he marched toward the Temple doors, disappearing into the cool shadows.

[Michael Cline]

Michael had wanted to interject, to scream at Ezra to wake up and realize his own potential, potential that didn't have to rely on an absentee, manipulative master. Just like Sudoku. This seemed to be the end result of the Sith. Burn brightly and then out entirely, or simply frell off back into the shadows to leave their masterworks unfinished and their disciples to figure it out on their own.

When the man finally left, taking his circus with him he'd left a warning to leave, which Mike was fine with but... as much as he was angry and just tired of all of this there was something else underneath that bothered him. A loneliness that ate at him in this moment. He'd felt it remotely with Lancer too. Mike frowned harder increasingly concerned this was all going to break down. Everything he'd struggled to rebuild felt like it was slipping out from under him. Ezra wasn't right, but that didn't mean there wasn't some truth under it all either. He flexed and un-flexed his hands and felt his shoulders slump. This hadn't been the closure he'd been hoping for, not just because Baralai hadn't been here, but also because it left him painfully aware of just how broken he was. He could wrap himself in as many tailored suits as he wanted, but deep down he was the ship captain's son from Coruscant, lost and alone.

No master. No peers. And stagnating in a way that left his own angers and frustrations to boil over to the point he could no longer control them. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh, right now he just needed to get home and get some sleep. If that even helped anymore...

He pulled out his comm and signaled his ride, "Okay. We're done here. Get me off this rock."