The Legion - Part One

And so it begins.... The smog slowly rolled out of the processing plant as it did every morning as Besix awoke. "Need to get a better place to live," he thought. "Hell, a better planet even." He smirked. Sixty years on Nal Hutta, or Hutta as the locals referred to it, and every day started the same way. The same smog, the same resolve to do better. He slipped on his jumper and fastened his robe. Today he might open the shop late -just once, to enjoy the breakfast he so often served others. But not today - there will be customers waiting, every day waiting, with Besix always serving - just like his father before him, and his father before him. A crash came from the kitchen and then a bang. That would be Vosix, he thought as he nervously itched at the scar on his forearm. “God that kid can never get anything right,” mumbled Besix. He shook his head and made his way to the kitchen to see what disaster had befallen the young boy. Around the corner, there was Vosix, face down in a pile of dishes. "I-I-I'm sorry, I didn't see the puddle da-" Besix cut him off. "It's fine, boy.. I'll send you out for more plates later.” He began to lay out the prep items for breakfast, when suddenly a knock came from the rear door of the diner. "Who could that be at this time?" he said to his son. "We aren't set to open for two more hours!” Vosix shrugged and pointed to the hidden safe. "You want I should get the blaster?" he said. Besix thought for a moment, probably thinking the same thing Vosix was - it's Hutta, and anything out of routine is trouble. Besix shook his head no and moved towards the scratched metal door. "Who is it- you know we don't open for another two hours, and no early break-" He opened the door and stopped cold. On the other side of the door were two robed figures. Vosix couldn't see their faces, but he knew one thing - these were not the people to take lightly. He began to inch his way over to the hidden safe, nervously looking at the two cloaked figures engaged in conversation with Besix. A little further and he could at least protect his father if this turned into a scuffle. He wasn't very good at shooting, hell, he wasn't very good at much of anything, but growing up on Hutta had given him a very good sense of what was okay and what wasn't. This was definitely NOT okay. As he reached for the safe, he abruptly felt as if someone had tied a rope around his neck; in the next instant, Vosix found himself floating off of the floor, unable to breathe, and only conscious in bursts. In one blur he saw was the outstretched hand of one of the strangers. The next that eye - that one eye, glowering from under the hood. It was red like the color of a crimson sunrise, but filled with hate. Oh, the burning hatred. Then he saw his father, pleading with the stranger, "Don't worry dad, it doesn't hurt," he wanted to say, but he felt himself slipping further into the soft darkness. How could one person be so evil?, his last thought screamed. The Eye said it all, and he knew he would never have to worry about anything again...

Besix also saw the sinister eye as it left him and focused on Vosix, right before the shadow lifted his son off the ground with his mind. Besix was relieved that the glare no longer focused on him, for he feared that eye. He knew who, or better still, what that eye belonged to.

"Please, he didn't know, I didn't tell him! He isn't a threat, just let him go - I beg of you!" Besix pleaded with the stranger. "Let my son down this instant! I shall NOT give it to you if you harm him!" He meant to have his statement sound menacing, but he could hear the fear in his voice. Suddenly, his son dropped to the ground with a thud. Besix could see his son's chest rising and falling. Relieved, he returned his attention to the two strangers. The figure who had choked his son with his mind reached into a pouch and pulled out a coin. As he closed the pouch on his belt, Besix noticed the metallic hilt attached to his belt. He had never seen a lightsaber before, but had a basic understanding of what they were. This person who stood before him was no Jedi, and if the stories his father told were true, then they weren't particularly Terran either. "The Item, disciple - give it to me now. Or, as my brother behind me would prefer, refuse us again, so that we may coax it out of you". If something with no face could grin, it did. Besix was struck with fear and awe as he looked between the two dark figures. No matter how he tried, he could not make out their faces. It was as if their darkness clung to them, obscuring all but the basic features of the two. "Then it's true. You are Lokin, the last of Marka Ragnos Elite soldiers. My father told me the stories, but I didn't; no, couldn't believe that they were true. How could you be here, with the assault on Corrisant? This can't be a coincidence!" Besix said as he backed away, stammering his claim, only to collide with the counter behind him. "Enough! Our Lord will not be denied. Give me the artifact, grandson of Morrow, disciple of Ragnos and Keeper of the word. Do your duty!" the dark figure bellowed as he advanced on Besix. He came to a halt only inches from the cowering shop owner. Besix stared into both burning eyes, and knew, at that moment, that there was pure evil in the universe - things best left in the dark. The dark figure tossed the coin to Besix who because his hands had been clenched this entire time almost dropped it his tight fingers opening with a groan to retrieve the coin from the air. He didn't even have to look at it to know , it was the Sigil of Ragnos, the symbol of Lokin, Besix felt the beveled face of the old Sith Master on one side and the Three suns etched into the back of it, If there was any doubt before then it was now washed away with a simple look, These were the true owners of the book. Besix inched around the menacing figure and went to a floor panel. He pushed down and the panel lit up and scanned his hand. After a few clicks, the panel rose, revealing a small

compartment. Besix pulled a book covered in some kind of leathery cloth from the compartment and handed it to the figure. "Here - as I was told to do by my father, and his father before him. The one who bears the symbol of Lokin will have the Epistle of Marka Ragnos. Lost for generations, and returned to those the master deemed worthy." Besix spoke this ancient phrase as it was taught to him by his ancestor - hoping to end this game, and walk out of his store alive. The ebon figure took the book reverently and walked towards the door. "But...But how did you know where to find it? You're supposed to be in the uncharted systems! How did you know to come here?" Besix queried the strangers. With the eyes not directly on him, and them retreating from his shop, he felt a little braver than before. The figure paused and looked back over his cloak clad shoulder. "The force provides. And it is not Lokin, disciple – it is Legion." he declared as they walked out of the store. Besix rushed to his son and held him. "Our duty is over. They have it and will leave us be.” The two figures strode into the night towards a waiting shuttle. "Our Lord will be pleased the book was right where he foretold, Zeromous." The second figure looked over his shoulder at the shop and then back at his brother. With a sweep of his hand, the shop crumbled into itself until it was a heap of steaming, hissing rubble. "He will indeed, Skaald".