Passive Aggressive Negotiations

And part 11 is here too!!!

Enjoy.

Passive Aggressive Negotiations

Wraith slowly stood up, his hand tentatively in the air. As he turned around, minding the lightsaber quivering at his throat, he eyed the tousled brown haired Jedi. As he gazed into his eyes, Wraith remembered a vision he experienced in jail – but it depicted this man in a twisted malefic version of himself, clad in black armor  A dark Jedi plagued by guilt, anger and suffering. How could such a noble heart sway so deep into the Dark Side? Should he strike this Jedi down and prevent years of suffering?

“Anakin, hold him steady,” came a voice behind the young Jedi. An elder Jedi with a lighter complexion and sporting a thick beard followed up, his eyes cautious.

“I am not your enemy,” said Wraith, eyeing back the elder Jedi.

“You’re Sith.” The voice belonged to a third Jedi, a young Togruta female, who moved impatiently on the spot clearly itching for a fight. “That makes you our enemy.”

“I was Sith,” said Wraith. “That made me your enemy,” he told the young Jedi sweetly.

“And you expect us to take you on your word?” asked the elder Jedi.

“Not quite. But I’ll have you note that I have just saved your platoon twice and healed two of its members. Whereas you are holding a lightsaber to my throat despite my telling you that I mean no harm.”

“Trickery,” spat the first Jedi. Anakin. Wraith took a deep breath and stepped through the blue lightsaber. His body’s structure became intangible and the weapon passed harmlessly through his body. He kept walking until he stood face to face from the elder Jedi. Clearly he was the leader here, or at least with something akin to diplomatic mind.

“Master Jedi,” he said calmly. From his peripheral vision he saw the younger Jedi moving in, both of them holding a lightsaber. Wraith flicked his hands across his chest, sending both Jedi flying backwards.

“Whilst it is clear that none of you can harm me,” continued Wraith, “it is clear that the same cannot be said for me.” Wraith extended his arm, his hand clear in view.

“So how about we start over. Civilly, this time.”

The elder Jedi motioned for the clones to lower their weapons and stop the other Jedi from assaulting Wraith.

“What is your name Sith?” he said. Both men shook hands and then let go hastily.

“Tell me your name Jedi, and I’ll tell you mine,” said Wraith.

“Obi-wan Kenobi,” said the Jedi. “And you, Darth?”

“Wraith,” said Wraith. “The ‘Darth’ is merely a tool.”

“What do you want? Why the courtesy?” asked Kenobi.

“I wish to speak to your Grandmaster. I want an audience with the highest ranking Jedi.”

“You’re insane!” exclaimed Anakin. “We can’t bring a Sith to the Temple.”

Wraith turned and looked the young Jedi dead in the eye. He felt a lull in his eyes, as in sating down a kaleidoscope: Wraith could see deep within this Jedi: his identity, skill, potential, power . . . and his destiny. Wraith had no control over whatever was happening – it was as if the Force within Wraith reacted with the Force inside the Jedi: like two ends of a power cell creating a current.

Both men remained frozen on the spot, their eyes interlocked.

“Master?” said the female Jedi tentatively.  “Master? Are you OK?” She lit her lightsaber and assumed a fighting stance.

“What are you doing to him?” she snarled at Wraith. That was when Anakin snapped out of it and halted her.

“It’s OK, Ahsoka,” he said. “I don’t know what happened,” he continued, still glaring at Wraith. “But I don’t think he means any harm. Not even sure he is Sith.”

“I told you, didn't I?” stated Wraith as he opened his arms. “I am quite unique. Not dissimilar to you, Anakin Skywalker.”

The Jedi’s eyes darkened. “You know my name,” he growled through clenched teeth. “But all I know is your alias. Wraith. What is your real name?”

“I don’t have one,” replied Wraith. “I was raised in the Dark Side, trained to become an assassin for the Sith. I have no name, no identity. I am just a wraith, a remnant.”

Obi-Wan spoke next. “So what changed?”

“Illumination,” replied Wraith sweetly.

“Illumination?” echoed Kenobi. “Hardly. Enlightenment is a higher echelon Light Side power.”

“I am as confused as you are, Master. It’s part of why I seek an audience with your Grandmaster.”

“What’s the other reason?”

“I have information on the Sith Lords.”

“We already know of Count Dooku and his backers,” said Ahsoka.

“Good for you,” replied Wraith. “Did you know of a Darth Mortris too?” he asked mockingly.

“And who would that be?” asked Kenobi.

“My former master. A Sith Lord, hidden deep underground and brought out only to deal with remote civilizations. Have you noticed how various systems in the Outer Rim slowly turned Separatist? That was my master, doing the job of an army nearly singlehandedly,” replied Wraith.

“And where is the Master now?” asked Kenobi, somewhat mockingly.

“Dead.”

“How convenient,” muttered Skywalker.

“It is. I killed him. You’ll find his lair on Korriban.”

“And if I don’t believe you?” challenged Skywalker.

“Then I couldn't care less,” said Wraith with a shrug. “I simply need to speak to the Grandmaster. I would like to offer my services and information to the Jedi Council. Your call now Master Kenobi.”

The two locked eyes for a full minute. The only sounds were the hum of Anakin’s lightsaber and the minute clicks of metal and polymers from the clones as they stood there, weapons at the ready.

Kenobi let out a long breath. “Fine. I’ll take you to the Temple. Do not expect and audience. Or a warm welcome.”