These Violent Delights

Chapter 6: As Is the Jedi Way

Luke Skywalker is back.

The sound of the Jedi's name pierced the air the same way it punctured Kylo's chest, painful and sharp, and the realization consumed him with debilitating rage. It paralyzed him, forcing the Supreme Leader to sit still for the first time in six days, and in this stillness, the clarity he so desperately needed finally came to him.

"It's all connected," he whispered, his eyes darting back and forth without a purpose. "The tip about Groman, the girl, my loss of control, Luke. All of this is connected."

"Show me," Vicrul demanded, and Kylo let down his barrier, allowing their Force signatures to clash and become one. After he saw what his Master saw, Vicrul's eyes widened. "Fucking hells. You were set up by both of them."

"Yes," Kylo said tightly. The Force vibrated within him, a deep rumble from their synchronized energies and thoughts. "She's not important. She's expendable. You were right. My mother sent the girl to Exegol to have Skywalker implant the destabilizer, but true to his Jedi religion, he refused to use the dark side of the Force, which—"

"Is why Organa was forced to keep the girl around for as long as she did. Exactly," Vicrul said, snapping his fingers. "It's not like she could tell the truth or kick her out after accepting her so easily. She had to play the part of the accepting, welcoming General, hopeful that one day Luke would change his mind. And he did, presumably after he heard of Starkiller's return, and ultimately accepted Organa's strategy to sacrifice M421 for their idea of the greater good. To—"

"Fight fire with fire. Yes, yes," Kylo said quickly, his heart pounding so hard, he felt it in his head. "That's how Luke justified using the dark side of the Force to construct the destabilizer. He must have implanted it while she was asleep, and then gone back into hiding while my mother sent M421 to kill Groman. And the anonymous tip on Batuu—"

"Must have come from someone privy to the plan, to get you and the girl in Mos Eisley at the same exact time," Vicrul finished, and Kylo nodded vigorously in agreement. "But who? It couldn't be someone in the Resistance. Morale is already low. The General knows better than to tell everyone that she willingly sent a fighter to get captured by the enemy."

"You're right. And she wouldn't go off-base to make the call herself, nor could it be—"

"The only other guaranteed person to know of the plan: Skywalker," Vicrul added, absentmindedly nodding his head. "Yeah. Even that part of the galaxy knows a Jedi when they see one."

"Yes," Kylo muttered, rubbing his chin. They settled into silence as they communicated through their bond, the buzz from the music upstairs pulsing in sync with their flow of energy. Kylo felt a ripple on the tether between them, and he looked at Vicrul, saying the first thing that rolled off his tongue. "Yet, a Jedi shut off from the Force is just an old man in robes."

Vicrul raised his brows. "You think Skywalker didn't return to exile after implanting the destabilizer in your prisoner."

"Yes. It makes sense. In order to keep her little plan confidential, my mother would only enlist someone that also needed to hide their involvement. Who better for the job than a Jedi supposedly in exile?"

Vicrul reached for a half-drunk beer. "Fuck," he said, slumping down in his seat. "I hate to say it, but this shrewdness is their new biggest asset. No one would expect their involvement in M421's seizure."

"All in the name of preserving their image of being good, without actually being good," came Kylo's acidic remark. "As is the Jedi way."

"Long live the masters of hypocrisy," Vicrul uttered, lifting his stein for a sarcastic, spiritless cheers. After he took a swig, he wiped his mouth and glanced at his Master. "So, it's true, isn't it? Skywalker is back and committed to fighting the war."

"Yes," Kylo said, his body humming with tension as he was forced to face the truth. "Yes, he is."

Vicrul was quiet for a moment. "But why? He was in hiding for almost a decade, and in that time, the Resistance faced eradication repeatedly, including Snoke's destruction of the Hosnian system. Why come back now?"

"Hope—the Jedi love their hope," Kylo spat, forcefully grabbing a glass of whiskey and finishing it with one gulp. He slammed it down and leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest. "They cling to it like they cling to their worthless religion."

"That they do," Vicrul mused, tapping his fingers idly against the table. "So, if Skywalker has hope to win the war, every decision he makes is strategic, and that includes the position he submitted the tip from. If he's in Black Spire Outpost, it's for a reason."

"I agree. But what could he—" Kylo stopped himself to snap his urgent gaze to Vicrul, leaning in to put his elbows on the table. "The Den of Antiquities shop owner. You said he was uncooperative."

"Very. He was angry at us, blaming the Order's bulletin for the influx of thieves looking for the crystal to receive the reward." He paused as he considered Kylo's train of thought through the Force. "You think Dok-Ondar is a sympathizer, and that's why Luke went to Batuu? For refuge?"

"Potentially. Ithorians live for hundreds of years. Not only was Dok-Ondar alive when the Jedi Order erected the temple on Batuu, he was there when the Rebel Alliance set up base in the Ancient Ruins. Skywalker would be comfortable there, welcomed."

"True, but if he's looking for comfort, why not go back to the Resistance?" Vicrul asked, shaking his head. "I think there's more to it. He could have baited you from anywhere...why Batuu?"

Kylo stiffened as something clicked in his mind, as though he had received an upload from the Force. "Unless..." he started, rigidly placing his hands on the table, "unless the call wasn't just bait."

As understanding flashed across his face, Vicrul straightened his spine. "Oh, fuck."

"Yes, fuck," Kylo said, balling his hands into fists as he smashed them into the table. His pulse quickened, his face felt hot as the final pieces fell into place. "Luke's call from Batuu wasn't only baiting me to Mos Eisley. It was a message, a threat, since even without direction from the scavenging Kef Bir locals, one could assume an ancient artifact would—"

"End up in the most prominent place dedicated to ancient artifacts. Correct," Vicrul finished, nodding erratically. "That answers why he was on Batuu. But how did he know about the extent of the crystal's metaphysical properties? The Order depicted it as a frivolous heirloom, and we have posted many bulletins over the years searching for long-lost Book of Sith relics. Not once has the Resistance shown interest."

"It doesn't matter how they know. The result is the same. They want to find it to use it," Kylo flared, rage bubbling in his stomach. He paused to swallow thickly, attempting to stop it from clawing up his throat. "To drain my powers, to drain our powers, to bring balance to the galaxy in their sick, twisted way."

"Precisely." Vicrul gave a grim nod, their Force connection buzzing with raucous energy. "To them, it's the perfect solution. Organa would never allow Luke to kill you, but disable you? Siphon your powers? It would be a tragedy, but he'd bask in his own righteousness, as is—"

"The Jedi way," they said in unison, and with that, Kylo leaned back and closed the Force-bridge between their minds. That was enough speculation for the night.

The music stopped upstairs, and with the newfound stillness between him and Vicrul, the silence became painfully loud in the basement. His companion pushed out his chair to stand up, but Kylo didn't move. He was focused on testing the truth of what they had just uncovered.

Luke is back. And he wants to finish what he started—kill me.

Rage tore through him, permeating throughout his body until he felt it everywhere, until he felt everything. He closed his eyes, dropping into a meditative state to search his feelings, asking the Force to grant him lucidity. When the anger felt true and solid in his gut, yet tasted sharp and foul on his tongue, he had his answer—Skywalker wasn't only back to fight the war, he was back to personally take Kylo down by sentencing him to something worse than death. A life without the Force.

He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He wouldn't let this madness incapacitate him any longer. Not anymore. Instead, he let it bring him to his feet. "With Batuu's Jedi-sympathizing history, we need to establish a presence on the ground," Kylo said, breaking out into a pace the moment he rose from his chair. He pulled out his datapad, opening the database for the commanding officers aboard another First Order dreadnought, the Steadfast. "And we need to keep eyes on Dok-Ondar's shop—cooperation or not. Finding the crystal before the Resistance is paramount."

"We will find it before them," Vicrul said, his scythe and helmet scraping against the table as he picked them up. "I am confident of that."

Kylo fumed in silence as he continued to swipe through his contacts. Usually, he would agree with Vicrul's sentiment, but he couldn't let arrogance blind him to the grave reality he faced. He might have clarity now, but he still didn't know where Luke was or what his next plan was. That bitter truth was all he could focus on until he found the person he needed in the directory. Kylo pressed connect, and it didn't even ring before an arrogant, monotonous voice resounded through the holospeaker.

"Supreme Leader, how may—"

"Skywalker is back," Kylo said, those three little words burning his tongue. "Deploy a 709th division to Black Spire Outpost on Batuu. Pose as a recruiting station and seek out Resistance forces and sympathizers."

"With pleasure, Supreme Leader."

"Reports are to be sent directly to me. Not General Hux, not the Finalizer's communication hub—directly to me. Am I making myself clear, General Pryde?"

"Crystal, Supreme Leader."

"Excellent." Kylo ended the call and immediately dialed Hux. Four rings later and the General's haughty voice squawked through the speaker.

"Supreme—"

"General Hux, how kind of you to answer my call," Kylo said with a simmering rage, taking tight steps back and forth. "You will return to Exegol. This time, you will enter the Citadel. No stone will go unturned."

Hux hesitated. "But, Supreme Leader—"

"Skywalker is aiding the Resistance once again," he seethed, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. "We must follow every lead we have, and right now, Exegol is our only lead. You and your troops will enter the Citadel. Do not tell me otherwise."

"Of course, Supreme Leader." There was a pause one second too long for Kylo's patience. "However—"

He stopped, bringing the datapad to his ear with quick movements. "Armitage Hux, if our troops are not in transit by the time I return, I will personally see to it that you are relieved of your title and replaced with a Wookiee. Am I understood?"

Hux let out a deep sigh. "Of course, Ren—"

Kylo hung up and glanced at Vicrul before walking away. "Find the others and sober them up."

"Yes, Master."

"They will make finding the crystal their priority," he said, taking the first step up the stairs.

Vicrul followed closely behind. "Yes, Master."

Kylo stopped to turn and face his knight, pointing a finger in his face. "And you—go back to Black Spire Outpost in plainclothes. Alone and often. Pose as a drunk looking for work, unaffiliated with either side of the war."

Vicrul slipped his helmet on. "Yes, Master."

"If Batuu is home to Resistance sympathizers, to Jedi sympathizers, they will seek allies now more than ever once the 709th Legion lands. They could lead us to Skywalker."

"Agreed, Master," came his modified voice, his fingers curling around his scythe. "I will take care of it. You have my word."

"Good. Do so without the Force. If my uncle is still there, we cannot let him sense you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"Thank you, Vicrul." Kylo was quiet for a moment. "You were right. I should have come to you sooner. To all of you."

Vicrul hesitated, then the casual arrogance found its way into his voice again. "Can I get that in writing, sir?"

Before he spun around, his knight's cheekiness almost painted the smallest of smiles on Kylo's lips. Almost. "This takes precedence over all else," he said as he proceeded to lead Vicrul up the stairwell. "Do what you must."

"Yes, Master," Vicrul said over the sound of the iron steps booming beneath them. "And the Force-destabilizer, sir?"

"I'll take care of it." Kylo's hands curled into fists. "I'll take care of her."

"Yes, Mas—"

"WAIT!" came Cinnamon's high-pitched interruption as she came tumbling through the door at the top of the stairs. It sealed shut in her face, and she started crying and pounding on it, unaware she was blocking their way. "TUKKA, PLEASE!"

He tensed. He did not have time for this. "Mo—"

"You alright, love?" Vicrul interjected, loudly and pointedly, as he slipped past Kylo to address her. "What happened?"

She jumped as she spotted them a few steps below her, her hand bolting to her chest. Vicrul's mask seemed to put her on guard, but when her teary eyes darted to Kylo, she relaxed, her face crumpling in emotion. "Tukka locked me in here to punish me," she said, fresh tears running down her cheeks. "He said it's all my fault the customers don't want me."

Kylo let out a brusque exhale, repositioning in agitation, as Vicrul kept his attention on Cinnamon. "Aw, why don't you move to the side so we can get through, hm? We'll have a little chat with Tukka to make sure this never happens again."

She sniffled, her bottom lip trembling. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Vicrul promised, extending his hand for her to take.

After a moment of hesitation, Cinnamon nodded and slipped her palm into his, stepping down to let Kylo approach the door. It was a thick sheet of steel, but with a little help from the Force, he'd be able to dismantle it within seconds. That would be the most concise option. After all, with the discovery of Skywalker's return, the Supreme Leader had to get back to work. But with the knowledge that Tukka was chortling to his disgusting self in the other room, Kylo decided his responsibilities could wait a moment longer. He knocked on the door three times.

Bang, bang, bang. He paused, pressing his ear against the surface to listen for Tukka's approach. But when his next cackle sounded farther away, Kylo curled his hand into a fist and pounded against it again. How else would he rearrange the Crolute's face with this giant piece of rusted metal if he didn't get close enough? The Supreme Leader gave it another aggressive strike, and another, until he finally heard the piece of bantha shit waddle in his direction.

"CINNAMON, WHAT DID I TELL—"

With a shove, Kylo broke the whole thing down, sending Tukka flying backward on his ass. While his victim screeched on impact, the Supreme Leader didn't make a sound as he stepped through the threshold, tossing the bulky door across the room as though it were as light as a lightsaber. Some patrons ran away screaming at the commotion, while others whistled and clapped or laughed in their cups. But the prostitutes? All fifteen of them emerged from their rooms, satisfaction in their eyes as they watched Tukka flail like a beetle on his back.

"You, you slimy son of a wampa!" he hollered, kicking his clumpy arms and feet as he tried to wiggle off the floor. "You will pay for that door. You will pay for this! Do you hear me? I'm going to—"

"The whiskey has me in a generous mood tonight, Bleyke Tukka," Kylo cut him off, voice low and dangerous as he closed in on him. "This time, I'll only bring you to the brink of death. But if I get word that you're mistreating your workers again, I will come back to finish you off. Do you understand?"

Tukka's slimy face turned bright red, foolishly sputtering insults. "Blast you, you Hutt-spawn! You kriffing..."

Blah, blah, blah. Just in time, the Knights of Ren flooded into the room, encircling their victim and pinning their masks on his frantic, blubbering face. With a slight pivot, Kylo extended his arm, his palm open and ready to receive one of their weapons. He would have been fine with any of them, but he was pleased when he felt Lucy land in his hand. It was poetic, in a sense, to beat a brothel keeper with a weapon named after Vicrul's most beloved sex worker. And after he repeatedly thrust it downward, shutting Tukka up with the blunt end of the scythe, Kylo also found that it was very, very satisfying.

Maybe this is the release I needed after all, he mused to himself as he peered down at the now bloody and unconscious Crolute. He gave him a swift kick to the side, making sure he'd be out for a while, before passing Lucy back to Vicrul. He swept the room, expecting to see onlookers, but everyone besides the workers had turned away, already bored with their violent entertainment for the night.

Locking eyes with Cinnamon, Kylo nodded at the back room. "Tukka's safe box. Do you know where it is?"

She just stared at him, a mix of fascination and terror on her face, before the girl beside her served her a sharp elbow to the ribs. "Ye-yes," she spoke up. After shooting a shifty glance at Tukka, she added, "Sir."

"Good," he said, nodding once. He stepped over Tukka's body and headed for the exit, speaking over his shoulder. "His lock code is 80085. Take everything and leave, if you can."

Excited gossip erupted behind him, followed by the clacking of heels as some of the girls ran to the safe in the back. As his knights followed him out, Cinnamon called out to Kylo. "Thank you, sir, thank you!"

He didn't say anything, his mind already reeling with Skywalker and the crystal. He was just about to step through the doors when Ushar opened his big mouth, saying something to piss his Master off for the second time that night.

"Stay safe, little ladies," came his arrogant voice, rumbling around the entire room. "The Knights of Ren thank you for your hospitality."

Not only did the chatter amongst the girls cease, but the entire bar fell silent. Kylo stopped, stiffening as he turned toward the crowd. Just like he had been for years, he came here to avoid being recognized. That's why he wore this stupid hoodie and left his mask at home—for anonymity. Something he assumed his knights knew to maintain as an unspoken rule between them.

But, of course, leave it to Ushar to ruin that for him.

All of them were gaping at him with wide eyes, but Cinnamon was the one to step forward. "If you're the Knights of Ren..." she said, timidly gesturing to them before looking at Kylo, awestruck. "Does that mean you're the Supreme Leader of the galaxy, sir?"

After he was done boring a hole through Ushar's mask, Kylo looked at Cinnamon, considering how to answer. If she had asked him this upon his arrival, it would have been easy for him to lie, as hadn't even recognized himself these past six days. But now, he had direction. He had hope. He had a plan.

He scanned the room and made eye contact with everyone gawking at him, then gave her a single nod and turned around to make his exit. He could hear their eager whispers as he stepped foot into the dirty, crowded street, and as the cool air raked across his face, Kylo instinctively reached for his hood. But just as fast, he dropped his hands by his side. The Supreme Leader didn't feel like hiding.

Not anymore.