The next day, Obi-Wan was quiet and did not speak much at all to anyone, though it was not much of a surprise. Obi-Wan preferred not to speak unless absolutely necessary. Revan, however, wasn't deterred or fooled.
"Come, Obi-Wan. There is something I must show you today." He ordered, and Obi-Wan followed, as always, with respect and reserve.
Revan set out a holocron and flicked it on in the training room, stepping back and watching Obi-Wan with an inscrutable face as Obi-Wan watched the holocron passively.
A figure flickered to life, sitting down and legs crossed, arms resting on his legs comfortably. "Sit, apprentice."
Obi-Wan sat in meditative stance, following the order of the holocron. "You must focus. To retrieve one's memories are not easy, and you must be utterly focused."
In one smooth motion, Obi-Wan had stood, and his hand waved, shutting off the holocron. He turned to Revan.
"Not happening." He said curtly, and turned, cloak swishing ominously in his wake. If he would have waited, though, he would have seen Revan's face crease into a pleased smile.
"Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force." Obi-Wan murmured to himself absently from where he was sitting and thinking of his training.
He had already mastered Ataru, Soresu, Shii-cho, and Djem-So forms of lightsaber combat. He preferred using a single lightsaber, though he also carried a shoto and a double blade, which he rarely used but carried nonetheless. His main 'saber was azure, his shoto purple, and his double blade red.
And of course, as always, there was his armor. It had been made in the Star Forge, and without a doubt Obi-Wan would never part with it, ever. It was made of an alloy of Adamantium and vibrantium, and was nearly indestructible. Adamantuim, of course, is nearly invincible in solid form, and vibrantium provided stability in that it was lightweight and completely absorbed kinetic energy. It was a dull black color, like unpolished cut obsidian.
It was a full-body suit that was thin and could be worn underneath any form of clothes possible- hence why he always wore it, even in sleep. In the rare occasion he slept, that is. For he did not need sleep, although once in a while he would slip into a mild doze which kept his eyes open, hidden under his hood. He never told his parents about it, for he was sure that it was a thing that pertained to his race alone.
He did not need sleep. The Force was all that he needed, and he would often sleep just for sheer boredom if at all. The Force was his strength and his support. It was his pillar. His center of gravity. His anchor. His everything. His life. And it was all he needed. If he had the Force, he had life and he had everything he needed.
"Obi-Wan." Bastilla called him from the room she sat in, using a holocomputer.
"Yes, Master?" He replied, coming into the room. She looked up at him and waved him forwards.
"Look at this, Obi. Tell me what you see." She ordered, pointing at the holovid that ran on the screen. He watched carefully as their vacation villa on the planet of Naboo was blasted to pieces. But in the midst of the rain of debris, he spotted a figure all dressed in all black slipping away from the shadows. Bastilla saw that he saw.
"What would you wish for me to do?" He asked calmly, though he suspected the answer. Bastilla smiled.
"Do you have to ask, Obi?" She answered, and he inclined his head in acknowledgement, turning to leave. "Oh, and take any fighter you want, as usual." Bastilla called after him. With a curt nod, he left quickly, moving through the Star Forge's familiar hallways in silence.
A few moments later, Darth Revan watched through a window as his apprentice and foster son flew off in his favorite fighter using a hyperspace ring.
The boy's trials to knighthood had officially begun.
Death. The halls of this so called 'stronghold' reeked of it, and the Force shuddered in grief and pain. Obi-Wan Kenobi grimaced inwardly as he shielded his mind farther to prevent too much from entering his mind.
The Force was like a black hole in this building, he decided grimly, everything spiraling and being sucked into a hole of the nothingness of the dark side of the Force. Of pain, and suffering, and wailing, and grief, and hatred- he stopped himself from going any farther.
The Jedi do not hate, for hatred leads to pain, and pain leads to suffering, and suffering leads to the temptation of giving being consumed by the dark side of the Force. It was a morass of pure hatred, consuming all light and longing for it and yet hating it for its brightness; for without out the light it would not exist. Without light there is no darkness- but without the darkness there is also no light.
The Sith do not engrained themselves too deeply in the dark side of the Force either. It is too dangerous.
He walked along the shadows of the hallways, hiding himself in the dark spots and sneaking along the sides of the buildings of Naboo, always reaching out through the Force to find any life-forms.
This was just another of the many solo missions that he had gone on during the forty years he had spent here in this galaxy, learning all that he could about the Force and what it was about. He had an eternity, after all.
He ducked into the shadows of the stark white corridor as a droid rolled past, carrying a metal cart filled with vials of some sort. He discreetly used the force to lift two bottles into his hands. Maybe one of them would come in handy in another mission once he figured out what it was.
He hurried along the corridors once again, making his way to his destination, for this was his mission- to kill the dark Jedi that lived here. He had been tracking him down for a week now, trying to find this destroyer of property and petty dark Jedi that thought that he could challenge two Sith Lords and an apprentice. It had gone on long enough.
As he approached the door behind which he could sense the dark Jedi was, he wondered if he could just sneak in and kill him and be done with it. He shook his head and sighed inwardly. It wouldn't work.
He had been trained for thirty years to be an assassin and Jedi Lord for his masters. He was swift, he was silent, he could walk on any material without a noise and as light as a feather, he could go virtually unseen and undetected by anyone without the Force, he could kill and leave without a trace. His true identity was unknown and he was feared by the the galaxy for his skills.
Revan and Bastilla had made use of his skills by training him to be an assassin, and had also taught him the boundary between the light and the dark. He was not completely dark; he was light- but he was also a suppressed light. He could kill without emotion and he would not let attachments get in his way. He was not heartless- far from it- but he was not innocent.
How many times had he been captured by a dark Jedi and tortured, trying to be turned to the dark side? He was light. In each case, he was victorious- for the simple reason that he had never had another choice. In the end, he came out alone and free.
The door opened and closed behind him as he stepped inside, slipping into the shadows of the room. The dark Jedi turned to look and was puzzled to see no one there by the door. He could sense no one anywhere around. A hand clamped on his neck and a lightsaber was at his throat before he had a chance to blink.
"Who sent you?" His voice, despite the dire conditions, was calm.
"Why do you need to know?" Answered a calm, detached voice. The dark Jedi envied him for his- aloofness.
"I wish to know the name of my assassin before I die." He replied coolly, trying to probe the aura of this being. He was shocked to find a solid, unmoving wall blocking his attempts.
"I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. All offenses are avenged by the Force in the end." The voice replied without emotion. He could not see anything of this person, he could not sense them. It was like facing death itself in the face.
"Then know that the Sith are pitiful." He snarled, sensing that his time was up. A light touch of the humming lightsaber and the body was lowered to the floor. Obi-Wan stared at it without any emotion on his face or in his eyes- there was none. He was an assassin. There was no room for emotion.
"Pitiful indeed." He answered the dead form blankly, and left. There was no trace of his coming or going, and there was no sound until an hour later when the alarm was raised at the finding of the lifeless body that stared at them with unseeing eyes.
It was like the poor man had committed suicide. That's how everyone else explained it. That's how Obi-Wan wanted it. This was his job and his life.
Obi-Wan walked along the corridors to the analysis wing of the Star Forge, hood up as it usually was in this galaxy. He mused about the dark being he had just killed. What was it that made people turn to the dark side for revenge? He wondered to himself as he waited for the results of his vials.
He was broken out of his train of thought by a droid informing him that the vials contained lethal poison that worked by entering the blood system of whatever ingested it and making its way towards the heart. It only took fifteen minutes for it to, and once it passed the heart, it would start corroding the walls of the heart within a matter of minutes. A swift, nearly painless death.
The assassin took the vials and stowed them in his pockets. One drop of the stuff in a glass of water was enough to do its job. His own job would benefit from the potion.
Purple eyes stared thoughtfully at the door that he had arrived in front of, and his hand reached out for the hand-pad that would allow him access into the rooms.
Fingers pressed the pad and the door slid open. This was his life, and he had no other choice but to live with it. It was the way of life that he had been forced into, and he was not about to change it.
Not when the Force screamed at him that it was right, despite that he was in the wrong place. Here, he was Obi-Wan Kenobi, not Duvainor Feänturion.