Title:           Downfall Era--Renegade Anon.
Author:          DvRanger
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/Ei8JPyeD
First Edit:      Thursday 25th of February 2016 01:46:47 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Thursday 25th of February 2016 02:37:08 PM CDT

DOWNFALL ERA
>Everyone died in the clone wars--in some way or another.
>You either lost your life, your spirit, or your loved ones.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jyFMG2766vs
>You watch the rain douse the cold metal of the transport from the window. How could it get this bad?
>All the jedi are dead--even your best friend Fluttershy didn’t make it. The war killed your bond before it killed her, though.
>“Fluttershy, Jedi Consular, gunned down by a hail of blasters on Kashyyyk” you remember seeing on the holonet.
>You remember hearing Imperials laugh and cheer on the upper levels of Coruscant when you saw it. You couldn’t even grieve without breaking your cover. You’ll make them pay you tell yourself.
>You start to think about her fair skin, her beautiful pink hair, but are interrupted by the tram droid asking for your ticket.
>You suspiciously glance up before reaching into your rucksack to pull out a damp, slightly crumpled ticket.
>You slump down in your seat and resiliently gaze back into the downpour. How could things get this bad?
>You don’t even remember falling asleep. The Rodian two seats down made sure to wake you up. At least some people still have compassion.
>Your wrist com buzzes. It’s the hottest clothing designer in the Core Worlds. “Hellloo, Daarrling! You’re looking faaabulous!!!”
Your face brightens slightly. “Hey, girl. Are you ready for my visit?”
>“Well, I most certainly am. It’s been ages!” She histrionically proclaims. She’s probably got guests.
>You decide to still make a stop at your apartment. You walk through the dilapidated tenements of Coruscant. Trash is everywhere. It’s even worse than the days of the clone wars.
>You’re nearly to your apartment when you see a squad of stormtroopers pompously walk out of an alley.
>You glance over and see something glowing in the alley but to avoid suspicion you ignore it. You briskly walk past them--A nexu among bantha.
>You arrive at your apartment. You hit the button and the light faintly cackles on. You take off your wet shoes and equip your jet propelled boots.
>You grab your fibrocord whip wrist launcher and hide it under the left sleeve of your jacket. You take some thermal detonators and smoke grenades and place them neatly in your rucksack. Finally, you reach in your rusted armoire and grab your DL-44. It’s been too long.
         
   >With your equipment you head out to meet with your purple-haired friend.
>You show up to her refined apartment building. The banner of the Empire gallantly dances in the light gray wind, much like the denizens around it.
“Hi I’m here to see Rarity”.
>“What business would someone like you have with someone like Rarity?”.
>You want to pistol whip the insufferable look of her smug face. Who cares how rugged you look. Does she even know what you went through? Would she even care? >Her face looks like a tusken raider took a beach vacation to Mustafar--ossified with spurious victories and so proudly secure on the capital planet.
>She shrugs down and assuredly looks at you waiting for a response.
“yea bring that attitude down to CoCo down bi-”.
>“Anooon! O’ where have you been?!”.
>“Madame Rarity?”
>“Oh, don’t you worry, he’s with me.”
>You bitingly smile at the front desk bitch, feeding off the disgust on her face as you walk with Rarity to the elevator.
>It feels like a dream. One of your truest and most loyal friends stands before you. It’s felt like forever since you’ve seen someone you didn’t want to hurt. You smile at her, which feels even stranger.
>She stands in front of you. A white dress gently drapes her skin and clenches her broken body, haphazardly keeping the broken pieces from pouring out onto the floor.
“W-where do I even begin?” you frenetically ask.
>“Start with this” she says as she violently throws her arms around you. You hold her. You feel tears stream down your neck. She doesn’t let go of you until the elevator stops. Even then she doesn’t let go. Moments like these hardly come anymore, so how could you blame her?
“R-rarity, I think we’re here”.
>She looks up at you, her face tired and defeated. She sighs, looks down and whimpers “Follow me”.
 
 
 
     >Her apartment is the most ornate place you’ve been in since the palace of Naboo back in your days as a soldier for the great Republic.
>“Sorry for back there in the lift, honey” embarrassed; she locks the door behind you.
“it’s-it’s okay” you reassure her with a slight chuckle.
>She cracks a light smile.  
“Is it safe to talk here?” you whisper as you look around suspiciously.
>“Oh, of course” rarity sternly reaffirms, nodding fervently.
“Good... Fuck the imps.”
>“Fuck them all.”
>Shattered anger on both of your faces. A virulent silence fills the air. The despair from the lift is masked now as she proceeds with business and feeds her vitriol for the empire.
>She takes a deep breath. “Has Hera gotten my arms shipment?”
“Yep. We robbed your clothing transport on Lothal to avoid suspicion as you requested.”
>She smiles. Glimmers of hope ripple through her, lowering her angered facade. You both miss each other too much to maintain your anger.
>She slumps back into her couch, “Oh, you ruffians” she says with an impassioned laugh. You both smile at each other. Damn, does it feel good to be with old faces again.
“Have you had to use the force on anyone recently, by the way?” you joke, as you lead the conversation away from “business”.
>Her eyes widen, she leans forward, “how do you know I’m not using it on you right now?” she teases.
>You dimly shrug.
>She pauses.
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXAlznKcJvA
 
>Your smile fades as you stare longingly into her deep violet eyes.
>She grips your arm firmly.
>The old emotions forbidden and shackled by her jedi code and your professionalism as a commando are gone.
>You both stare at each other for what feels like an eternity before you crisply grab the back of her head and bring it close to yours.
>The kiss burns like a conflagration. She continues kissing you more determined and more fervent with each passing second.
>She grabs onto your arms, as she continues the barrage of kisses. While maintaining the lock, she gets up and sits on you. You hold her neck and back, keeping her from wilting.
>With each kiss, a broken part of you burns away like holopics to a plasma torch. You pick her up and carry her to her bed…
 
    >Light trickles in. A blurry haze begins to metamorphosize into rarity’s room. you look to the window on your right.
>The hive of imperial civilization bustles and crawls.
>You take an obstructed deep breath.
>You look down at her purple hair. Her flawless porcelain skin. A sleeping angel in the midst of vermin.
>Honestly, you never thought before or during the war you would ever be romantically involved with Rarity.
>You always pictured your “perfect girl” as a brunette from Corellia. The one that graduated at the Honors academy. The vociferous firebrand of the republic.
>But the clone wars killed that dream. And you could never be as close to that girl as you are with Rarity. The things you’ve been through. The friends and family you’ve lost. The entire republic. That corellian phoenix doesn’t have shit on that.
>You gently comb your hand over rarity’s face. You notice her scars are peeking through her makeup. You smile.
>She coughs into your chest and adjusts herself. You’re not sure if she’s awake--if you should ask her if she wants to take a speeder down to Dex’s diner for some Sic-six layer cake.
>Frankly, you don’t care. You let the moment linger with the knowledge of its transience.
>It’s as fleeting as the shuttle to outerim, as a mynock in winter on Alderaan. It still doesn’t negate its value to both of you.
>She looks up and smiles. “Good morning, anon.”
You pat her back and smile. “Hey, girl.”
>“You probably want to get a photon fizzle from Dex’s. That’s okay, you can get it. I’ll wait here”.
“is it okay if I lay with you a while longer?” your smile fades.
>“I was hoping you’d say that”. she says as she nestles up to you.
>You close your eyes, smiling…
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kV4rm1LOaGI
      >You’re greeted by the cold. You glance down to empty covers. You jolt up, hurriedly looking around. The night is illuminated by neon signs and propaganda displaying dead jedi..
>You run to the main room, nearly tripping from her regal bed. The entire room is trashed. Lightsaber burns marr the walls. Blaster bolts mask the furniture. You look to a shattered window exposing the Coruscanti streets.
>How could this happen?! Where is she? Your mind races near to the point of fainting. How the hell could you sleep through something like this!?
>The explosions and fighting should have broke your slumber! You look down and see a piece of her nightgown burnt into the floor covered in blood.
>No. Idiot. Dumbass. How you could let this happen?!
>You search through her apartment to uncover her possible location or a clue as to what happened. You walk to the shattered glass center table. You get down on your knees searching for answers, nearly praying for something positive.
>You see a metallic saber shimmering in the shadows beneath a nearby damaged table. You reach and grab the cold silver rod. You ignite it--lighting the dim apartment with a violet inferno. Your clutch tightens to the point where you might crack the metal. Deep heavy breaths.
> It feels like there is a dearth of oxygen--like you are on top of the tallest mountain on Hoth.
>You stash her blade in your rucksack along with her datapad containing an encrypted location of a dead drop and other information.
>The Front Desk Bitch. Her arrogant ass must know where Rarity is and who took her. You stomp down to her.
>Before the lift doors even open you are already yelling at her. You unleash your pent up hatred for imperial society on this woman.
>Your acquisition of information becomes blurred in your rancor.
>Nearly in tears, the woman frantically tells of holocam retrieval for residents. She’s obviously covering this up.  
>She says that you have to get the passkey from inside the suite. You cautiously backpedal.
>Using brute force would bring too much attention to yourself.
>You were asleep for a reason you realize. Rarity sacrificed herself for you. You carefully head back to her suite.
 
 >As you retrieve the passkey from a desk in her room you can’t help but sink into her bed.
>It feels like you’re falling down a blackhole.
>Is it even worth it? Fighting a faceless omnipotent enemy. One that destroyed everything you held dear. One that murdered the greatest government that kept peace for over 1000 years just for it to come crashing down.
>You hear muffled footsteps nearby--a quiet thunderstorm is approaching.
>You run to the door to lock it but the intruders are already in front of you.
>Two sith inquisitors gleefully smile.
>“Ah, anon, the ex-war hero. The hero that saved entire cities with his small squad on many planets in the outerrim.” The female said.
>There were two. There are always two.  These two are monsters. Just like the rest of the sith.
>You start to look for an escape. They block the doorway. There is a squadron of stormtroopers at the door waiting, lurking.
“Where is she?!” you growl.
>With a slow, haughty cadence, the female inquisitor taunts you. “Oh, she’s  doing well in the highest security prison in the entire Empire. She always had high standards didn’t she?” as she looks at the hulking demon next to her.
>That one doesn’t talk at all which makes him the most deadly. You realize what must be done, but decide you have some fun with it.
>You smile.
>The female inquisitor looks astonished.
“You know what. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck all your stormtroopers outside. Fuck your Emperor. Fuck the Empire. Fuck all of that.” You triumphantly chant.
>The inquisitor’s saccharine delight fades revealing her inner hatred. The brute’s staggering fortitude remains unwavered.  
>The female approaches you.
>With your newly acquired sleight of hand, you throw a thermal detonator. She lunges into one of the guest rooms.
>The brute braces for the explosion. You try to blast them with your DL44 however you only wound the female.
>She angrily lunges in for the attack. There’s nothing more you can do to fight a sith assassin.
>Fuck it.
>You fall backwards out of Rarity’s shattered window. They won’t get the pleasure of killing you.
>This is the end. Neon lights twinkle, a female imperial voice rings through the streets praising the emperor. Your jet boots couldn't brace you from this height anyway. You close your eyes for several moments. You don’t even have anything to lose at this point because you’ve already lost it..
 
      >Idiot! You forget about your fibrocord launcher on your wrist.
>You put it in your rucksack last night when you slept with rarity.
>Hesitantly you, you equip it in freefall. Speeders whiz by you.
>You launch it straight into a holoscreen of a wanted poster for Master Obi Wan Kenobi.
>Your fibrocord reduces your speed just enough to catch yourself with your jet boots.
>With exhilaration like never before, you race off to the low levels to blend in at a cantina. You hotwire a vacant speeder. After you get it started you see a squad of security stormtroopers running after you.
>Shit.
>You race off in your new silver ride. They pursue you with a police cruiser.
>You pull out your blaster and pop off a few shots behind you. They return fire with E-11s. Their blasters scorch panels on your speeder.
>You make a quick turn down in the lower levels disappearing into hordes of screeching metal speeders and barren, meretricious buildings.
>You keep going just to make sure they don’t follow you.
>You go as far down as you can. To avoid being caught you send the speeder on auto pilot straight up so they can’t track it.
>Trouble is you forgot to land before you did this. You free fall just enough to catch yourself with your boots.
>You raise a face scarf and flip your hood over your head. You walk into the nearest, shittiest slum cantina you can find….
 
 
>You nearly collapse into the booth, your arm bumping into someone.
“Give me whatever’s on tap” you mutter to the Neimoidian behind the counter.
>The chase needs to die down more before you can continue your search for Rarity--might as well lose a little more of yourself before then.
>You lower your scarf to drink, there’s no way you will be tracked in this dump. >Two cups later a hand yanks your shoulder back.
>You flinch and twist your shoulders to see the aggressor.
>A Zabrak girl too beautiful to be somewhere this disgusting sits before you; although, her eyes tell a different story.
>They burn with regret and insecurity--you don’t even need Rarity’s jedi sense to see that. And that necklace, you can’t help but feel you’ve seen it before. You nervously crack a smile.
“Y-yes. Can I help you?”
>She sits with a stern scowl on her face. “It’s been too long, Anon.”
>Confusion detonates in your mind like an incendiary grenade.
Looking dumbfounded, you meekly let out a “what?”
>She leans in, flipping her untamed orange hair. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about our last ‘engagement’ on Ord Mantell”.
           
      >Oh, stars--not her. You remember now as you look at the bronze-skinned Zabrak.
>An Op back on Ord Mantell, a band of gunrunners supplying weapons to the separatists--she but a child then, she must be early twenties now, but those screaming amber eyes are unequivocally hers and unchanged.
>Shit. This is not good.
Your nervous smile fades nearly instantly. “Hey, keep your voice down.” you say leaning into her, hardly above a whisper.
>Her face smolders in resentment.”No”, she says louder with a satisfied smile.
>She has the tactical advantage over you, anon. All she has to do is reveal your identity to one of these thugs and you’re done.
>You can neither save the Republic nor Rarity if your head is decorating a crimelord’s stronghold.
>Although, if she wanted you gone, you’d be gone already. She needs you, your past involvement in locking up her reputed family’s organization is merely a bargaining a chip. You might as well do what she wants.
“Fine… I’m sorry” you admit, “What do you need?”.
>You can visibly see her delight, “I need you to help me”.
>Go figure. “Well...what is it?”.
>“I need you to smuggle something off-world. I’ll explain more in a sec. Follow me, Anon”.
>You drag along behind her, you’d not make it to the door before being blasted anyway. Maybe you could use a smoke grenade and narrowly escape to a different level...no. Part of you feels like you owe her this. You did after all leave a young girl orphaned. Her parents were criminals of course and deserved punishment, but what the hell did you do to secure her wellbeing? Nothing.  
>You did absolutely nothing for a naive girl who wasn’t old enough to know her parent’s could make mistakes. No wonder the republic fell with hypocrisy of that scale.
>She wears a black jumpsuit interwoven to include armor along her shoulders and wrists, and has two blaster pistols strapped to her hips, and a retractable vibroknife attached to armor on her right wrist.
>You trudge past the dregs of Coruscant behind the orange-haired Zabrak.
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PBwAxmrE194
   >She takes you outside. Mushy, dark gray snow clutters the streets and clings to the bottom of walls.
>The wind chills your bones through your coat and cordially lets itself inside of you.
>She stands facing her speeder bike, hardly looking over her shoulder, “hop on” she says with a sigh.  
>The speeder gallops through the light-polluted snow; neon light jingles and shimmers around the speeder and the Zabrak’s body; the speeder passes people dirtier than streets they stand on.
>She takes you farther into an industrial area. Empty factories line the street like coffins.
>You hold onto her waist, letting out a disheartened sigh as she takes you into the nether--how it could things get this bad?  
>The speeder hisses as you feel it begin to decelerate. You feel her become more guarded as soon as she stops outside of a derelict smaller facility.  
>She clears her throat. “Alright, let's go.” she says.
>You silently follow her through the facility.
>The nerves come alive. You nearly smile thinking you’d lost them entirely.
>A cold fear wraps its hands around your shoulders, squeezing them like your creepy uncle picking you up from primary school on Corellia.
>Maybe she didn’t seek retribution in the cantina so she could do something far worse out here, where your screams will be forgotten--unheard.
>Stay whelmed, Anon. You still have your skills, your training, and your weapons. >Her footsteps beat against the hollow metal floor.
>You hear laughter seep out from a room ahead. Your nerves ease up a bit. A door opens up as a smokey haze and urban music seep out, as if it were trying to maintain an orderly facade for the other parts of the building.
>You follow Adagio into the room.
 
  >Sitting down playing sabacc is a group of smugglers and mercenaries. A wookie slams his arms down on the table in frustration, messing up the card layout and causing drinks to topple.
>Before you even reach the table and let the Zabrak initiate conversation, a brown-skinned smuggler pulls a blaster on the wookie in his rage.
>“RRROOAGGGHHH!!” The wookie yells reaching for his bowcaster.
>“You son of a --”
>“Hey, laser brains!” the Zabrak growls.
>The smugglers jolt and lower their weapons at her commanding voice. “If you weren’t too busy fighting each other, you would’ve noticed that I found our guy” she hisses.
>The Wookie and the human sit down.
>“You really got someone?” a voice beams out with a chill demeanor.
>You approach the table and see the speaker. He is a fair-skinned human with thick, brown hair(you can’t help but notice he is awfully scruffy looking as well, about as much as you even...which is saying something).
>“Yes. Ex-republic Special Forces”.
>Their faces light up. “Adagio, how in the hell did you get someone of his caliber to help us?” the human asks.
>“We….have history”.
>The darker-skinned human seems dubious before speaking up,  “how much of the cut is he gonna get? This payoff will hu--”
>“None”, Adagio interrupts with a virulent gaze at you.
>He’s seen it before. His eyes widen and he quickly averts her stare before appeasing her with affirmations.
“Wait a second, There’s no way I’m going to do this without getting anything out of it” you object.
>“You are getting something out of it, I will help you get your little girlfriend out of jail and into safe space”.
Your face turns white in shock. “H-how?...How could you possibly know about her? It only happened today..W-wait a second(turning to desperation), you know where she is?! Please tell me!” you beg.
>Seeing you in pain is clearly bringing her a sort of vindictive delight.
>She smirks. “You help us. I’ll help you get her out--in fact, her skills even could be of use for stage four”.
>Her words ring through your mind like the boom of a cannon. You’re shell shocked with hope and confusion.
“Okay, wait a second. How’d you even know abou--”
>“You’ve already met the informant--the one you yelled at. The one that we ordered to call the Imperial Security Bureau on you after Rarity was captured”.
>Your jaw could not possibly be any lower without ripping a muscle.
>Oh, shit. The front desk bitch. It was a shill.
>Before you can muster together any manner of response, Adagio is already addressing the group in front of you.
>“Pavlov, get the ship ready”.
>Pavlov, the brown-skinned human smuggler, rises and leaves with a slight nod, shooting you a distasteful look as he brushes by you.
>Standing with her shoulder high, she continues addressing the group of vagabonds and criminals.
>You feel very uncomfortable being among such filth, but it is something you must do.
>“Sonata, get our ‘guest’ for our briefing”.
>A dazzling chiss with a long blue neck scarf rises from the table smiling and struts into a storage room.
>“Now, time to fill in our “VIP” here while Sonata retrieves the ‘key’”.
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NneJgV1upyI
>You are Rarity.
>BZZZ! A red screen ignites in front of you and seals you in your tomb. Bastards... You fall into the back of your cell and sink into the cell floor.
>You stare blankly at your orange jumpsuit.
>Orange and gray and red blur together as the weight of what happened begins to set in.
>How could things possibly escalate to this?! Is there any chance of freedom again ever?! Will you ever see Anon again?
>It just doesn’t add up. You were a secret padawan to Master Zecora, your family was in the clothing business for ages, and you have been secretly aiding the rebellion for years.
>How could you possibly be discovered now if nothing changed?
>Tears stream your face down and gently bounce onto your bosom.
>You don’t even bother wiping your face...most people worth truly knowing are dead and gone or had their spirits shattered by the Empire.
>Ghosts are all that remain; they scatter and wander the streets of Coruscant like a purgatory.
>Even here in your empty cell you were just as lonely as you were before Anon returned.
>Your heart burns thinking of him and burns even more when you consider how transient your encounter was.
>The soreness sharply awakens all over your body. Your body is still fairly damaged from your duel with the inquisitor in your loft.
>Oh, Anon. You had to use the force to put him into a brief coma. You couldn’t risk losing him to the Empire as well.
>You masked his presence with the force and shrouded your emotions with your hatred for the Empire.
>Hopefully he retrieved your datapad and is fulfilling the mission assigned by Hera.
>You glance to the left out of instinct. You’re startled by the starfields before you. In your despondency you hadn’t looked behind you to see that the back wall was simply a window.
>A window peering into oblivion.
>The glitter and twinkle of the myriads of stars before you simultaneously depresses you and gives you hope.
>Anon is truly the last vestige of hope in a galaxy so dark...