Eighth rotation after capture-

Cell Twenty Four-

Prisoner one thirty one; Ava Shand

I stare at the metal handcuffs attached to the table, a sigh echoing through me.

This feels stupid.

"Just hold out your hand, young one. The Force moves through everything, every being. Feel it flowing through you, finding a release through your fingertips, into the cuffs." Master Plo says. There's a note of bitterness in his tone, like he wishes we had more time. Or that I was more patient or had more training before we jumped right into one of the most difficult skills... harnessing the force, using it to your advantage.

If I had been a Jedi Youngling, I would have studied years before getting to this point. I would have read books and manuscripts, studied the Jedi Archives, trained with other kids my age. But here I am, at twenty-two, thrown into a world of power that I am not at all prepared for.

I adjust my stance, holding my hand out in front of me, focusing on the energy emitting from the Jedi Master. All I need to do is to be able to open the cuffs, so if I get the chance, I can escape even if I am bound.

I feel The Force vibrate in my hand, a featherlight pressure on my fingertips. I imagine it pulling the cuffs open, like an invisible hand pulling them apart. The metal bounds start shaking, lightly at first, becoming more aggressive. Excitement bubbles in my heart. I flex my fingers, and it's gone. I groan, letting my hand drop.

"Don't think of it as an energy, Ava." The Jedi says, tucking his hands into his robe. "Think of it as an extension of your arm. An extension of your very being."

"I'm trying." I mutter, and Plo Koon shakes his head.

"No." He says. "You are trying too hard. You do, or do not. There is no such thing as 'trying'."

"Maybe I wasn't made for this. I'm a Bounty Hunter, Master, not a Knight." I shake my head. I think he rolls his eyes.

"You have tried a total of once. Try again."

I hold out my hand, concentrating.

The door to the cell hums, begins to open. I glance at Plo Koon, shaking my head.

"No time. We're doing it my way."

When the Empire pawn opens the cell door, I wrap my arms around her neck, yanking her back into the wall. She attempts to struggle, but when I slam her head against the cool concrete of the prison, she slumps to the floor, her head rolled to the side at an unnatural angle. I crouch down next to her, checking her pulse-- she's out cold. I have fifteen minutes before she wakes up, and an extra few minutes after when she's bound to be disoriented.

"Was that truly necessary?" Master Plo Koon asks, floating somewhere off to the side as I snatch her keycard from her silver suit.

"I don't have the privilege of fighting droids, Master." I reply, standing. "Let's make this quick."

The door let's out a quiet 'hiss' as it slides open once again, and I slip out into the hallway, ducking to the left as I hear the chatter of troopers somewhere to my right. My heartrate quickens as I move along, pausing at each sound, my senses seemingly heightened with each turn.

The prison hallways are grey, tall and imposing, the narrow hallways leaving almost nowhere for me to hide. I stick to the shadows, suddenly thankful for my drab prison garbs, the dark grey helping me stay hidden. The hallway seems to move on forever, a never-ending pathway. I must travel for miles before I pause at an intersection of corridors, looking at the other three ways, surprised I haven't run into anyone yet.

I need to get to the hangar, need to get out of here. Once I'm far enough away, I can comm the others.

The shadows of a pair of soldiers coming from the north has me sprinting down the opposite hallway, aware that the warmth of Plo Koon is nearby. He hasn't left me, yet. My stomach burning from hunger, my legs aching from malnutrition, I slow, fingertips brushing the wall.

The sirens start humming, before wailing so loudly that I have the urge to cover my ears.

"No. No, no, no, no, no!" I curse, bolting down the alleyway, throwing a glance over my shoulder. The cold is near. The Fourth Sister is hot on my trail, and I feel her anger.

"Young one!" Plo Koon speaks, and I look around frantically. I see him, and he points to a door of the hallway. The Hangar.

I press the empire keycard to the slot, and the doors fly open. I rush into the wide, cavernous hangar, surprised at how empty it is. A few cargo ships line the eastern wall, TIE fighters hanging from their suspension cords above me. One of the walls is a forcefield, leading out to space, the inky blackness speckled with stars. I'm not at a military base, like I had thought. I'm on a Star cruiser, which can only mean they are transferring me. But to where?

I bolt towards one of the TIE fighters, a foot on one of the rings when I hear it.

The sound of a light sword igniting. I spin around, icy fear clutching at my throat.

I am so close.

I expect to find The Fourth Sister, but standing across from me is a man. At least, I think he is human. His skin is a toneless white, flashes of red markings pressed along his skin. His suit is black, making his skin look like it is almost glowing. The outfit is made up of almost entirely armor, except for his cloak, which is the deepest, darkest black.

It's him. The Grand Inquisitor.

Flanking him are twenty- four Storm Troopers, their guns focused on my chest. I shudder, gently letting my hand fall from the ladder.

"I would suggest you don't fight, Miss Shand." He remarks, twirling his lightsaber. "It could end terribly for you if you did."

Plo is next to me. I feel his hand on my shoulder, light pressure, slightly damp, like a sort of mist. The Grand Inquisitor sees him- his yellow eyes widen slightly in surprise.

I glance at him, to see his eyes on the Sith across the hangar from us. They flicker to me, crinkling in a smile.

"An extension of your being, Ava." He whispers. I inhale deeply, feeling his form dissipate, the warmth of his presence remaining.

I throw out my hand just as the Fourth Sister strides through the door of the hangar. Her light sword unclips from her belt, flying across the room, the silver flashing as it arches towards me. A trooper ducks, but it still slams into the back of his head, and he tumbles to the ground.

Time seems to pause as the cold metal of the weapon connects with my hand. Power surges through me as I ignite it, feeling it hum. Its red light casts a glow on everything around me. The Grand Inquisitor smiles, showing rows of narrow, sharp teeth.

"You are not worthy of such a weapon." He hisses, stalking towards me.

"Oh, yeah?" I say, sounding braver than I feel. "Then come and get it."

He moves cautiously, not afraid of me, but afraid that ghosts of the Jedi will start leaking from the walls. I know I can't win this battle. But I'm sure as hell going to give him a fight.

I lunge at him, the lightsaber beyond heavy in my hands. Hand to hand combat, I can do. But I have never fought with a sword, much less a weapon as sacred and powerful as this. It wants to fight my every move, making my muscles strain just to lift it.

He parry's my blows lazily, swinging his sword around to attack. I hardly move fast enough to block it, the lightsabers spitting sparks as they collide. He pushes me back, and I stumble, his lightsaber swinging towards me.

It just grazes my thigh, and I cry out, clinging to my leg with one hand. The prison pants torn, the cauterized wound refusing to bleed. Burning, hot pain, has me seeing white and red. Using my left hand, I hold up the lightsaber as the Enemy's comes crashing down, dangerously close to my face.

"Give in. You have lost." He growls, and I look up at him, sweat from the pain dripping down my forehead. I gather saliva in my mouth.

"No."

I spit square in his face, swinging my elbow into his jaw. He stumbles backwards, and I limp back, lightsaber swinging around in a way that is probably dangerous. My chest heaves with each breath, air hissing out past my teeth. The pain has the world spinning, and I have enough sense to collapse on my good leg, the light sword clattering out of my hand.

I clutch my leg with my hands, gasping for air. A shadow falls over me, and I look up into the face of the Fourth Sister. She has her lightsaber back, and her eyes are slightly widened. Like I have surprised her. I lick my dry lips, a quiet grin on my face. If they kill me, at least I ashamed her superior. Imagine, getting spit in the face by a bounty hunter girl.

The Grand inquisitor is up, standing right behind her. His lip is split, blood running down his chin in a red streak that matches his tattoos.

"Sister," He speaks, eyes on the girl in front of him. I, for the first time, realize she can't be much older than me.

"Teach her. Show her what the punishment is for embarrassing your superior. Show her what a worthless being she is." He speaks.

She looks at the lightsaber in her hands, before looking back at me. I wonder if I imagined her mouthing 'I'm sorry', before igniting it.

The smile on The Grand Inquisitor's face is terrifying.

I hope it is still enjoyable for you all!!

- Kena <3

(Word count, 1,694.)