“…done what we can…”
“…bionics not made…”
“Keep me updated doc.”
Spike recognised the final voice as he was dragged back to conscious thought. He was aware of a dull throbbing over most of his body, the pain reaching a peak at the base of his…
Spikes eyes flew open, his mouth opening and letting out a mournful groan, before his mouth was filled with a sludge like liquid, and his vision became more than just a dark haze. At the moment though, he didn’t care what was in front of him, only what was behind him, or rather what he feared wasn't.
Moving his arm, Spike tried to grasp his tail, before hitting a thick Plexiglas wall that stopped him from moving any further. He could now see more outside of the transparent prison he was trapped in, seeing three dark figures, all of whom were moving towards him, their hands outstretched in placating movements.
“Get…me…out,” Spike gurgled, bubbles spilling out of his mouth as he spoke into the kolto solution he was surrounded by.
“Spike, just…calm down,” one of the figures spoke up, placing his hand against the glass. Spike knew he knew the voice, and that something about it was radiating with power that was trying to compel him to obey, but all it managed to do was make Spike more irate.
“Let me out!” he roared again, slamming a fist forward into the tough glass, cracking its surface.
The cracks spiralled out from around his fist, quickly covering the entire tube. For a moment, the room was silent, before it let out a single cracking sound, shattering, and spilling Spike and the contents of the tube onto the floor.
Spike let out a retching sound as he collapsed to all fours, coughing up lungfuls of kolto onto the floor of the medical room. In between coughing, Spike felt a hand resting on his back, and rolled over to stare up at the man who had laid his hand on the tube before. Spike's eyes were still adjusting to the sudden stimulation, but slowly the darkened figure became more and more familiar, showing that his face, and what Spike had believed to be long hair, instead turned out to be a mask and a long flowing robe.
“R-Revan?” Spike rasped, pushing himself slowly to his feet and towering over the man. “Where…where am I?”
“Intensive care unit in the emergency hospital we set up,” Revan replied, keeping his hand on Spike's shoulder despite their size difference.
“A-A-And…my…” Spike shuddered, beginning to turn his head around.
“Spike…take it slowly,” Revan moved his hand to Spike's head, stopping him from turning to face his injury.
“I need to see it,” Spike snarled, pushing Revans hand away.
“On your head,” Revan sighed, taking a step back, his hand hovering over his sabre.
Slowly, Spike turned around, looking down the spines on his back, before they finally rested on the stumpy remains of his tail. Where before there had been a long flowing tail extending out from behind his body, now there was nothing, save for a stump that looked as if it was in the process of scabbing over.
For a long time, Spike didn’t say anything, not moving, not blinking, and hardly breathing, transfixed by the sight of his missing tail. Revan exchanged a glance with the two doctors, before gesturing for them to get back slightly, before approaching himself.
“Spike? It’s ok Spike, we’re…” he began.
He never finished his sentence as Spike let out a bestial roar, his eyes flashing yellow for a split second, before reverting to normal. Desolation may have wanted to be in charge, but Spike was well and truly in command now. Drawing his Lightsabers, Spike brought them down on Revan, the man only just igniting his own weapon and catching the twin blades, diverting them away from what would have been a fatal blow. Even so, he was still forced to the floor from the ferocity of Spikes attack, struggling to get up from his knees and fight back properly.
“All right? All right?!” Spike roared, his voice heavy with power as he channelled the force, knocking Revan back. “I lost my tail! How is it all right?!”
“Spike! Calm down!” Revan shouted back, before Spike lunged at him again, forcing him backwards.
“Where the fuck were you?! We waited! We fought! And you were fucking late!” Spike screamed, deactivating his Lightsabers and diving forward, catching Revan off guard and crashing through the doors, emerging into a large waiting room time area.
“What the…Revan? Spike?” Malak asked in confusion, rushing towards the pair, followed by a trio of soldiers.
“Stand down!” Revan ordered, getting to his feet and standing beside Malak, facing Spike. “That’s an order. Stand down.”
Spike panted heavily, scowling at Revan and Malak, his shoulders heaving as he debated leaping forward once more. Even now, he could hear the voice of Desolation urging him on, while Moonstone was screaming at him to stop and think about what he was doing.
“How long?” Spike seathed, his hands clenching into fists as he swayed, finding keeping his balance slightly harder now due to the lack of his constantly swinging tail.
“Have you been out?” Revan asked back. “A day, just, which is why you need to let the doctors help you. Get back in a tube and…”
“And how long would that take?” Spike snapped.
“Wounds like yours, a week sir,” one of the doctors chipped in.
“You expect me to stay still for a week?” Spike laughed, throwing his head back, the sound unnerving Revan more than any roar could. “Me? Nothing to do for a week? I don’t think so.”
“Spike, listen to reason,” Revan took a step forward. “You’re wounded, and species with tails usually need them for balance. I don’t know what you think you’ll be able to do, but if you get healed up, you can get back into the fighting.”
“It was Cassus,” Spike snarled. “Cassus Fett. The one behind Cathar. He’s in charge, he led the attack on the cannons. He…he took something from me.”
Spike trailed off as his confidence wavered for a second, his eyes drifting to his tail stump, before he regained his composure, his snarl returning as he looked back to Revan and Malak.
“We had a feeling it was him,” Revan nodded slowly. “And we’re taking steps to…”
“Then where is he?!” Spike shouted, cutting Revan off. “I want him dead, soon. By my hand.”
“If we knew where he was, do you think we’d be waiting to hit him?” Malak scoffed, drawing a glare from behind Revans mask, one that clearly told him to be quiet, before Revan turned back to Spike.
Spike scowled, before pushing past Revan and Malak, heading towards the outside, following the scents that were out of place in a hospital.
“Where’s Cortez?” Spike demanded as he walked.
“He’s on a mission for me,” Revan replied quickly, still keeping his distance.
“Tarhal?” Spike continued.
“The same,” Revan shot back. “Just stop for a minute Spike, please.”
“Any special forces?”
“Everyone under your command is deployed,” Revan snapped. “There’s no one you can call on to help you find Cassus, so just stop and wait. You can heal up, then we can search for him together. You can’t do this alone.”
“You’re wrong,” Spike muttered, throwing the doors open and stepping out into a street, taking a deep breath and looking up at the sky.
“Oh I am?” Revan asked. “What about?”
“You said there was no one, that I was alone,” Spike flared his wings, turning to face Revan. “I’m never alone. I have Desolation, and I have Moonstone.”
With that, Spike took to the skies, rapidly rising above the buildings and soaring into the distance towards the front line. Instantly, guns were pointed to the skies, as Malak ran up beside Revan, holding his own Lightsaber tightly.
“What the hell was that all about?” Malak asked, glancing at the soldiers, who were still staring off after Spike, glancing between each other to see if any of them knew if they should be taking action or not.
“He woke up, he broke out of his tube, he went crazy,” Revan muttered. “Now he’s going on the hunt. He’s unstable, and he’s opening up the gap between us wider and wider every day. I don’t understand him Malak. Desolation? Moonstone? He talks about them like they’re real people, and I don’t know who’s in charge. And the worst part? I can’t relieve him of command of the Special Forces. I put them all at his disposal and the troops love him. They’d want to know why.”
“We need him to have another accident, possibly more fatal this time,” Malak mused with a slight grin. “Or…”
“Or what?” Revan asked, cocking his head to the side in confusion.
“Weren’t you working on something? A project for helping with this sort of thing?”
“It didn’t work,” Revan sighed. “The 44 series wasn’t fast enough or intelligent enough. I need…I don’t know, inspiration.”
“And meanwhile Spike will get more unstable,” Malak muttered. “I think we need to find out what’s eating away at him. It could be very useful later.”
“I don’t think he’s just going to tell us Malak,” Revan chuckled.
“No, but he’s got friends who know what happened,” Malak smirked. “And I for one know that Tarhal quite enjoys talking when he’s drunk.”
“Get on it then,” Revan nodded. “You never know, maybe this latest crazy phase will get him out of the way for us.”
“You don’t really believe that do you?” Malak raised an eyebrow.
“No, I don’t,” Revan admitted. “Now go, Tarhal and the Special Forces are returning from the Slash and Burn through the front line at rally point sigma. Oh and Malak, don’t tell them Spike’s up.”
“You got it,” Malak nodded, before turning and walking away down the street.
Revan watched Malak walk off, before turning back to stare up after Spike, just about able to pick out a tiny speck on the horizon that he was pretty sure was him. He didn’t quite know what he thought about Spike anymore. The Revanchists owed over fifty percent of their strongest members to his diligence and dedication to defeating the Mandalorians, and his skill in combat was easily equal to his own, but if Spike kept up how he was acting, erratic behaviour, self-hating, and lashing out at anyone and everyone, even if they were trying to help him, that made him dangerous. Dangerous was good if it was all directed at the enemy, but if even a portion of it was directed at allies, he would begin to become a liability.
“I don’t want to have to kill you Spike,” Revan whispered softly. “Please, show me that you’re not becoming an animal. Don’t prove Atris right.”
With that, Revan turned towards the direction of his command centre, his cloak billowing out around him as he strode through the throng of Republic medical staff and wounded soldiers.
***
Spike folded his wings and plummeted towards the floor, smashing into one of the ruined pavements and staggering slightly. Instinctively, he tried to move his tail to balance himself, but only succeeded in sending himself crashing to the floor faster.
“Son of a whore!” Spike cursed, pushing himself to his feet and looking behind him at his ruined tail. “Fucking Cassus!”
“Calm down Spike,” Moonstone whispered softly, appearing beside him.
“Calm…” Spike began, raising a fist at Moonstone, glaring down at her as he fought the urge to bring his fist down, even though he knew it would do absolutely nothing to her.
“Go on Spike, do it,” Desolation urged inside his mind, trying to push himself to the surface to influence Spike's actions, before Spike finally dropped his fist, slumping against a bombed out building and sighing.
“Thank you Spike,” Moonstone smiled, sitting down beside him.
“No spine,” Desolation sighed softly.
“You shouldn’t have left, you need medical attention,” Moonstone admonished.
“Sitting still for a week,” Spike scoffed. “That won’t end well."
“Spike you need it,” Moonstone insisted.
“Answer me this then. When was the last time I sat around doing nothing hmm? No mission, no guiding plan. Just me and my thoughts?”
“Spike I…”
“Answer me damn it,” Spike cut her off.
“When you woke up after Maryx,” she sighed softly.
“Exactly,” Spike nodded, his voice cracking slightly. “After Maryx. I can’t stop Moonstone. Got to keep moving forward. If not…I’ll look back, and I can’t…I can’t do that. I’m falling apart running from and talking to myself, and it’s all because of that fucking place.”
“Pussy” Desolation chuckled, drawing a scowl from Spike.
“He’s talking to you isn’t he? Desolation?” Moonstone asked.
“Yeah, he is,” Spike nodded glumly.
“Mind letting him free so I can hear him?” she asked again.
Sighing, Spike nodded, before closing his eyes and beginning to drop the mental barriers around his mind, not fully, but enough to allow Desolation some portion of control over their body. When he opened his eyes once more, only one was its usual green colour, the other being the dim yellow colour it was when Desolation was in charge.
“Finally,” Desolation purred, stretching his arms as he took control for a second, before Spike wrested it back from him.
“Ah ah ah, I’m in charge if the body,” Spike admonished, pulling his arms. Down.
“Yeah, and look how well that’s turned out,” Desolation snarled back. “Remind me how many body parts we still have left.”
“And if you were fighting him, we’d be bloody dead!” Spike roared back. “You don’t use weapons! You don’t fight with tactics or skill, just rage!”
“Rage works!” Desolation tried to push more control over the body, only for Spike to lock himself into a mental battle with Desolation, the pair vying for control.
“IF YOU’RE SITH!” Spike bellowed.
“Shut up! Both of you!” Moonstone suddenly butted in, standing in front of Spike and glaring daggers at him.
“We are not Sith,” Spike snarled, breathing heavily as he fought Desolation.
“But why not use their ideas?” Desolation whispered softly, backing down from the mental battle, allowing Spike to take more control, until even the yellow eye had returned to its usual green colour. “Use your hate, punish them.”
“What did he say Spike?” Moonstone asked urgently, only to be met by silence. “Spike?!”
“Yeah?” Spike asked in a slight daze, still confused by the void Desolation had left behind, leaving a curious feeling in his wake.
“What did Desolation…” she began again.
“Quiet,” Spike ordered, shushing her with a hand gesture as he got unsteadily to his feet.
“What is it?” Moonstone whispered.
“I feel something,” Spike muttered, turning to look at his tail stump, his eyes widening in shock.
Before his eyes, a green light was extending from behind him, forming all at once, until it finally coalesced into an almost perfect replica of his tail. Unlike his real one, this one glowed like his magic, large spikes extending from the end, forming a much more vicious looking tail than he had before. While it may have not been like his old one, it still moved just like it, balancing him, and allowing him to once more walk properly, and more importantly, fight properly.
“Oh thank you Desolation,” Spike chuckled, his laugh becoming slightly more maniacal as it went on. “Now Moonstone, sorry to cut short our little chat, but I think I owe Desolation a bit of free time.”
With that, Spike took to the skies once more, skimming the building tops as he soared towards a Mandalorian rear position. If Desolation was to get free, then he deserved to not have to worry about collateral damage. Inside his head, he could just about feel, rather than hear, Desolation's growl of approval, the magi-tail swinging side to side in anticipation of the fight to come.
***
Malak watched as a steady trickle of soldiers began to move back into the forward operating base of the Republic, one that also served as the command centre of the Republic invasion, and where the Special Forces came back to to regroup after a mission. The rest of the army was in the trenches five kilometres to the front, but they were far too valuable to risk there. It also made Malak's new mission easier, as he quickly spotted the single Wookie in the throng of troops, making his way towards him.
“Tarhal? A word?” Malak called out.
“Malak?” Tarhal grinned, breaking off from the column and stopping in front of Malak. “Come to see how the best work?”
“Something like that,” Malak nodded. “Come on, I need to debrief you, and I have a little reward.”
“What kind of reward?” Tarhal asked, falling in beside Malak.
“An alcoholic kind,” Malak chuckled.
“We’ll wait till Spike wakes up,” Tarhal shook his head.
“No, Revan's orders. The Special Forces have been working well under you, and he wants you to have this drink on him.”
“Well, I won’t refuse a free drink I guess,” Tarhal chuckled.
Two Hours Later
“So there we are, balls to the wall in a cannon on Coruscant, Mandalorians outside, Spike’s just grown some new tiny wings, he’s covered in blood, pissed off that some of it belonged to our friend, and what does he do?” Tarhal laughed, draining another glass, one that was quickly refilled by a sober Malak. “He tells us a bloody story about his home. It wasn’t even true, complete bullshit. But I’ll be dammed if it didn’t help out.”
“Yeah, I read about the invasion back in the temple archives,” Malak nodded. “Still, you held the cannons. What happened next?”
“Urg…let’s see,” Tarhal stroked the fur on his chin as he thought. “Well…there were the funerals, Exar-Kun and the senate attack. Then, Spike got his promotion to Knight and went off…disappeared for a month.”
Tarhal trailed off as he shook his head, looking at his glass and sighing.
“Then you found him didn’t you? You and your master?” Malak pressed.
“On Maryx Minor,” Tarhal nodded slowly. “I…I shouldn’t be talking about this, it’s not right.”
“Talking can help Tarhal,” Malak assured him, refilling the now empty glass. “Helps him as well, the shrinks tell me his brain activity is off the charts at the moment.”
“Maryx was…it was…evil. Everyone could sense it, even the soldiers. It wasn’t just a Jedi thing, this wasn’t the Dark Side,” Tarhal sighed.
“Come on, can’t be that bad,” Malak shot back. “I mean, I’ve seen what the Mandalorians could do for a bit back on Flashpoint, remember?”
“Flashpoint? You mean that place you were in for what, a week?” Tarhal asked. “I’ve read the reports. It was bad, but there was nothing overly evil about it. Spike was on Maryx for close to two months, we found a room filled with torture implements, and Spike was the only prisoner.”
“Did you say a month?” Malak asked, his eyes widening slightly.
“Two,” Tarhal corrected him.
Six Kilometres Forward.
“Republic are making another probing attack into our front lines,” a Mandalorian chuckled, taking his helmet off and taking a bite out of the uj cake he had been holding, savouring the taste.
“Let them come,” another one laughed. “We can beat anything the Republic throws at us.”
“What about those Special Forces?” a third Mandalorian asked. “They’re doing damage."
“Like I said, we can…” the second one laughed again, before a slight rustling silenced the group, the men instantly grabbing hold of their rifles.
“Who’s…” the helmetless Mandalorian began.
Desolation roared as he leapt forward, bringing his fist round and slamming it into the man’s face, knocking teeth flying as the man cartwheeled head over heels, impacting with the wall behind him with a wet thud.
“Don’t worry, it’s just Desolation, your friendly surprise dentist,” Desolation laughed darkly, before blurring into action.
Forward Operating Base
“Two months?” Malak managed finally, still shocked slightly. “Some of the Jedi at Flashpoint didn’t last two days before they cracked.”
“And that was for science,” Tarhal nodded. “Maryx was to cause pain. By all reports it was used to break Jedi and turn them to Exar-Kun.”
“So…you broke him out?” Malak asked. “You know what happened?”
“No,” Tarhal shook his head. “When we got there, something had broken out. It wasn’t Spike.”
“I thought you said there were no other prisoners?” Malak asked, before realisation dawned on his face. “Desolation?”
“The same thing,” Tarhal nodded. “Spikes dirty little secret that apparently everyone knows about.”
“I’ve seen him a couple of times,” Malak spoke softly and slowly. “He’s…”
“Violent, sociopathic, and about half a step away from being a war criminal,” Tarhal finished.
Six Kilometres Forward.
Desolation roared with laughter as he brought the new tail he’d created whipping round, impaling a Mandalorian on the spikes, before spinning and tossing the corpse at an approaching squad. Thrusting his arms forward, Desolation grabbed the fallen warriors, lifting them off the ground, before bringing his hands together, the writhing bodies colliding in mid-air. With an awful screech of bending metal and screams, the bodies were slowly compressed into a ball, Desolation grabbing hold of it and tossing it up in the air experimentally, before finally throwing it at a stunned Mandalorian, the dense metal and flesh balls slamming into his armour, sticking there.
“Wow, takes balls to stand in front of that,” Desolation smirked, stalking off in search of more prey.
Forward Operating Base
“Spike won’t say as much, but he’s afraid of Desolation,” Tarhal continued. “The guy's been running since the end of the Great Sith War. Mission after mission.”
“And we’re working with him?” Malak asked in incredulation. “Bloody hell. How long have you known about Desolation?”
“A few weeks? Maximum,” Tarhal shrugged.
“But you said he was on Maryx,” Malak pointed out.
“I didn’t know it was him, and I only watched the recording once,” Tarhal shook his head. “It was like an animal, not my friend. I destroyed the video to stop the council finding out about that side of Spike. Now he’s getting worse, they’re going to find out anyway. It won’t be long till he becomes public.”
“We’ll worry about that,” Malak assured him, standing up. “Finish the bottle Tarhal, then get some rest.
“Where are you going?” Tarhal called out after him.
“Back to Revan,” Malak replied simply.
Six Kilometres Forward.
Desolation surveyed his handiwork as he walked through the ruins of a city block that before had housed five Mandalorian squads waiting for deployment. Now, there were just four left, all bruised, one missing most of his teeth, and completely disarmed, their armour ripped off and discarded in a pile behind Desolation.
“Now, to business,” Desolation smiled darkly. “I’m looking for one man. Tell me where he is, and I promise that I’ll kill you quickly. If not, well…” he turned back to look at what was left of the corpses. “That was just me warming up.”
“Go to hell,” one of the survivors spat.
“You first,” Desolation laughed, grabbing a piece of metal with the force and hurling it at the Mandalorian, the pole sticking into the left side of the man’s chest, drawing a bloodcurdling scream from him. Slowly, blood began to leak from the end of the pipe, increasing as the man breathed, before it finally slowed as the man breathed his last.
“Now…tell me where Cassus Fett is!” Desolation roared, grabbing the next Mandalorian by the throat, squeezing hard, his claws digging into the man’s flesh.
***
Fifteen minutes passed as Desolation stretched his mind, inflicting pain in any way he could. The Republic would execute him if they knew what he was doing to POWs, but Desolation wasn’t planning on leaving survivors to talk about this.
Finally, only the toothless Mandalorian remained, blood trickling down his body from where Desolations claws had dug into him. His one remaining eye was wide with pain and fear as he weakly tried to escape Desolations grip on his leg. Lifting him up, Desolation held the man upside down in front of his face, opening his mouth and baring his teeth.
“Shame, I had hoped your friends would last longer,” he snarled. “Last chance. Tell me where Cassus Fett is.”
“I-I-If I do…spare my life?” he stammered.
“Talk quickly,” Desolation snapped.
“He’s in the Jedi tower, his command room's on the very top floor, he plans everything from there,” the man said quickly. “P-please, that’s all I know.”
“Thank you,” Desolation smiled, dropping the man to the floor.
“S-so I can go?” he asked, staggering to his feet, a hand clamped over his missing eye.
“Hmm,” Desolation mused for a second, before growling. “No.”
With a casual flick of the force, Desolation sent the man flying backward, before beginning the walk back towards the Republic lines, taking care to step on the man’s head as he walked. He had promised him a quick death for telling him where Cassus was, but he had never agreed to spare his life, or make his end painless. Desolation chuckled softly, his lips curling into a grin as he surveyed his handiwork one last time, before taking to the air and heading for home.
***
Tarhal staggered into the command centre, propping himself up on one of the consoles as he looked at Revan and Malak, the pair making plans on a holographic representation of the two opposing frontlines. Whatever Malak had given him was quite potent, and he was really beginning to feel it now.
“So…more missions for my men?” he slurred, walking over towards the pair.
“Nothing as of yet,” Revan replied without looking round. “Plus, you’re too drunk to fight at the moment.”
“Good point,” Tarhal nodded, sitting down heavily on the floor. “So what are you planning?”
“We’re not, we’re discussing someone,” Revan replied.
“Little old Spikey Wikey?” Tarhal giggled.
“Only one mare can call me that Tarhal,” Spike shot as he walked into the room, his eyes once more green, Desolation having been satisfied for now. He staggered slightly, the tail having faded as the drain on Spikes magic became too much, but it had performed its purpose perfectly nonetheless.
“Sir, you can’t just walk in their looking like…that,” a soldier followed behind him, looking at the blood covering Spike that was currently dripping onto the floor.
“I saw the council like this, I can damn well see Revan and Malak like this,” Spike shot back, walking up to the hologram table and placing his hands on it, scrutinising every detail.
“Spike? Are you ok?” Revan asked slowly.
“Why?” Spike asked, not looking at the man.
“You’re kinda covered in blood,” Malak pointed out.
“It’s not my blood,” Spike shrugged, before tapping a few buttons, bringing up a bigger image of the tallest tower in the city. “There you are you bastard.”
“The Jedi Tower?” Revan asked, moving closer to the hologram, giving Spike a wide berth. “The Mandalorians own it. We think they coordinate the fleet from there. Strategically useless now that we’ve destroyed their ships.”
“Trust me, it’s important,” Spike snarled softly. “Cassus is there, I’ve been told personally..”
“Whoever told you could have lied,” Tarhal pointed out from the corner.
“Trust me, he didn’t lie,” Spike shot back.
“Well then, thank you for the intel Spike, we’ll act on it short…” Revan began.
“Tomorrow I’m leading the Special Forces through the sewers and into the tower,” Spike cut him off.
“Spike, I’m in charge,” Revan snapped. “It’s high time you remembered that.”
“Do you feel in charge?” Spike asked, resting a hand on Revans shoulder. “I followed you ecawere taking the fight to the enemy. That’s the only reason.”
“I gave you command of the Special Forces Spike,” Revan pointed out with a growl.
“And this gives you…power over me?” Spike asked, before turning and walking out of the room. “Tomorrow Revan. You may want to do something useful and support the attack. The tower falls, Cassus dies, and we win.”
With that, Spike left the room, leaving Revan, Malak and a now snoring Tarhal alone.
“Still sure you don’t want to kill him?” Malak asked quietly, making sure not to wake Tarhal.
“I beginning to,” Revan growled. “Get the army ready. If this intel’s good, I want to move in with Spike tomorrow. Afterwards, we can discuss the future for Spike.”