Hello. My Name is Belten Mondi. You Killed My Cult, Prepare to Die

[Belten Mondi]

Belten hated cities. Everything about them was unpleasant. There were deadbeats in the streets, drug dealers on the corners, and, worst of all, happy people in their hovercraft, zipping around from here to there like busy little bees. Bees without any real purpose. Bees that did nothing more than waste their lives trying to find happiness. Belten knew firsthand that happiness was nothing more than a myth. It was a barometer people used to judge each other's success. Happiness was not, contrary to popular belief, the most important thing in the galaxy. Money was high on the list, but even that was not the most important. Neither was power. The most important thing in the galaxy was satisfaction, which many people confuse with happiness. Nobody was ever really satisfied. Everybody wished they could have a little more money, or a slightly bigger house, or a younger, more attractive spouse, with slightly larger breasts. Or much larger...

Coruscant was no different than any other city. It was packed with people, about 50% of whom hated their lives, 30% of whom mildly disliked their lives, 19% of whom wanted to end their lives, .9% of whom wanted somebody else to end their lives for them (because they're too afraid to do it themselves), and .1% who were actually satisfied. Interestingly enough, it was this .1% that was in the most danger, because about 90% of that .1% were complacent, and that was the worst possible thing that could happen to a person. It was as bad as being homeless, because the complacent were soon usurped by the ambitious, and going from important to homeless was much worse than beginning at the bottom. For those who begin at the bottom never know what it is like to be on top.

Belten had been on the bottom all his life, but he was that rare percentage of the bottom who had the ambition to reach the top. And he was part of that even rarer percentage with the determination to go along with that ambition. This was essentially why he was on Coruscant. It was one of the political capitals of the galaxy, and Belten's plans for the Cult involved an extensive knowledge of politics. He had been shadowing politicians from a safe distance all day. He had picked up on as many of their mannerisms and customs as he could. If he was to be a successful part-time politician, he needed to know how the game was played. Belten Mondi was not one to leave a job half-assed.

He was nearing the end of his day of studying when he sensed something he hadn't sensed in quite a long time. He smiled to himself and pulled his hood down farther over his head. Today just got fun, Belten mused. He turned away from the politicians he had been observing whilst they were on their lunch break and headed for a dark alleyway. Cliche, but he wasn't planning on staying there for long. Once he was out of sight from the general passerby, he bent his knees ever so slightly, and sprang up to the top of the building on his right. It was one of the higher buildings in the area, perfect for what he knew was about to take place.

He stood in the middle of the building for a few moments, feeling how close the signature was to his location. Close enough. He sat, cross-legged, in the middle of the roof. It was rectangle, about 100 feet wide by 150 feet long. It was large enough for the beginning of a fight, but nowhere near large enough for a full lightsaber duel. He estimated that he would cover about five or six miles that day. That was fine, he needed his exercise.

[Lysander Odakota]

Maybe if he had the skills Shay had, he wouldn’t have taken so long to finally end up on a definite trail of his prey, but the fact was, Lysander was just glad he had the skills to find the Cultist at all. Frankly, the one he’d come to locate personally was a hard bugger to keep track of, and it was only the fact that Coruscant had such a high security detail that he knew the one called Belten Mondi was still actually here. He’d arrived on so many planets only days behind the Cult Lord, only to find he was long gone. He slipped through cracks like some sort of shadow, only to turn up somewhere completely different.

But he had him, he knew he had him. Escaping Coruscant unnoticed was almost impossible these days. He’d been keeping in touch with local defense forces and flight control. He’d not really gotten much from any of them, other than confirmation that the ship Mondi had come in on hadn’t left and no one matching his description was reported to have left on any other ship. So, unless he was even better at evading that Lysander was counting on, he was still here.

The Guardian had laid mostly low while searching the vast planet-wide city. Not knowing exactly what the Cultist was looking for, he’d stuck to the more populated sectors, thinking the maybe the Cultist was intending to cause havoc or perhaps intended to recruit for his dying cause. He considered moving to the sub-levels of the city, knowing that Mondi could very well be dealing with some black market stuff, but unless he heard otherwise, he wasn’t going to risk himself needlessly among the seedier parts of Coruscant. He was here as himself, for once, and he didn’t need to get himself into trouble with those who wouldn’t trust him as a Jedi.

As fortune would have it, it turned out he’d made the right choice. Not an hour earlier, he’d gotten word that a strange man had been seen around key governmental buildings. He hadn’t been moved against because he didn’t seem to be posing a threat, but he’d seemed to match the description Lysander had supplied authorities with.

It was nearing the evening, the cityscape of Coruscant bathed in the orange and yellow light of it’s fading sun. While he kept his Force signature as buried as he could so as to not scare off the one he sought, he had little choice but to search with the Force, so he couldn’t be as hidden as he might have liked. If he’d had better leads--a more definite location, preferably--maybe he would have gone about this differently. Besides, so long as the Cultist didn’t make a break for it, this would work just as well. Catching him completely by surprise wouldn’t ultimately do him much good.

He knew that Mondi felt him as soon as he found his signature. He was close enough that there was no hiding from each other. To his pleasure, the Cultist didn’t seem to be running--indeed, he didn’t even seem worried. It was entirely possible that the other didn’t even realize that he’d been being tracked from planet to planet for weeks on end now. And now that he knew he was being hunted, he was going to turn and fight. All the better. Lysander hated playing spukamas and sound mouse. He much preferred the straight up route they seemed to be converging on.

He parked the speeder he’d rented for this occasion on a landing pad near the set of buildings where he’d located his prey. There wasn’t much in the ways of ‘walking routes’ on Coruscant. Most of the buildings weren’t even connected to each other in any way, requiring the use of vehicles to get to anywhere of import. The buildings were so far from the actual surface of the planet that you couldn’t even see them from the few walkways that did exist. To fall here was fatal in most any sense, even for a Jedi.

So, not the best place to be chasing down an opponent, but Lysander liked a good challenge.

The area he found himself in now was a high political hub, with several of the buildings connected together with a platform of walkways and alleyways. It was here that they were bound to begin, for Lysander caught that glimmer of dark, hiding up and away on one of the buildings. So this is how Mondi wanted to play? Fine.

He could have very well made it to the top of the building without too much trouble, but he didn’t want to go wasting energy needlessly. Going around the back of the target building, he found a sort of fire escape back area, and climbed up the outside of that. Reaching near the top, he made one final, longer jump and landed nimbly on the edge of the roof.

His eyes narrowed as he spotted the one he’d come for, in all his resplendent red robes. So flashy. So arrogant. Sitting there in the middle of the expansive roof, waiting. Releasing his hold he had on his Force signature, with officially no reason to hide, he used it to mentally combat against the darkness the other possessed.

Removing the lightsaber from his belt but not igniting it, Lysander began his seemingly casual walk towards the other. As soon as he was close enough to not shout, he began to speak.

“You know, you’re not an easy one to find, Belten Mondi. At least, that’s what I’ve found out the few who know your name know you as. I don’t suppose you prefer to be called something flashier? Dark Lord Redcape or something equally ridiculous?” He raised a brow, flipping his weapon idly in his palm, even as he came to a stop. He was ready for anything, his mind already slipping into a combat mode despite his casual appearance.

He could have given the other man his name at this point--he felt no need to hide it after all--but he’d wait to be asked. All Mondi needed to know was that the Jedi standing before him had finally caught up to him.

“You could make this boring for me, you know. Would totally ruin my day if you surrendered right here and now to your inevitable downfall. I’m more than happy to take you in alive. You know us Jedi--always ready to have no fun whatsoever if the situation calls for it.”

Yeah, like Mondi was going to surrender. Nothing was ever that easy.

Somehow, Lysander couldn’t bring himself to feel regret at the thought of killing this fellow. At the very least, he’d be indifferent about it. If he let himself get carried away, he might actually find some satisfaction in the job well done.

[Belten Mondi]

Belten felt the Jedi drawing nearer and nearer. It was about time they met face to face, after all. Eluding and escaping was only fun for so long. After a while it was simply time to turn and fight. Now was that time. The sun was just setting in the distance, casting a soft light over the city. Too poetic and pretty for Belten's taste, but the light would soon turn bloodred, and that was much more his style. If he really wanted to, he could have gotten offworld long before the Jedi caught up with him. He had led the Jedi on a chase across who knows how many planets for who knows how long, but he had been aware of his presence on more than one occasion. Belten simply thought his studies were too important to skip off to a new world so soon. Now he had what he needed as far as knowing how politics worked (kind of) he could deal with his hunter head-on. It would be fun, no doubt.

Belten knew by the signature that it was the same Jedi he fought on Korriban. A skilled duelist, no doubt, but no match for a Lord of the Dark Side of the Force. Belten had anger on his side, and that was an enormous ally, regardless of what the Jedi said. They were so rigid and set in their ways. If only they opened their minds they would be unstoppable. The only reason the Cult had not utterly erased the Jedi from existence was the Jedi's pesky alliance with the Mandalorians. If they were on their own they would be much more vulnerable, and the Cult could simply lead legions of Noghri in an assault on the Jedi temple. Sheer numbers would overwhelm the Jedi. But they had help. And their help had guns. Big guns.

He need not worry about that now, though. He had a more pressing (and much more interesting) task at hand at the moment. The Jedi certainly was taking his sweet ass time. Belten was beginning to get impatient. Arrogant Jedi, acting like he owned the galaxy, just like the rest of them. Self-righteous bastards, all of them.

“You know, you’re not an easy one to find, Belten Mondi. At least, that’s what I’ve found out the few who know your name know you as. I don’t suppose you prefer to be called something flashier? Dark Lord Redcape or something equally ridiculous?”

"It's a cloak, actually," Belten replied dryly. He levitated up off of the roof and rotated slowly to face the Jedi. He extended his legs down and landed lightly on his feet. "You really are quite a bore to elude," Belten continued. "Far too easy to get away. You didn't even make it a challenge. Pity, really."

Belten's 'saber slid down the arm of his cloak and into his hand. He did not ignite it. Not yet. The Jedi wouldn't attack first unless provoked. But Belten wanted to see if he could get under his skin first.

“You could make this boring for me, you know. Would totally ruin my day if you surrendered right here and now to your inevitable downfall. I’m more than happy to take you in alive. You know us Jedi--always ready to have no fun whatsoever if the situation calls for it.”

"Well we wouldn't want to bore you, now would we?" Belten replied. "I would never want to upset a big, bad Jedi. They can be dangerous. Sure, they preach peace and harmony, but how many of them actually follow those teachings? How many of them have gone out into the galaxy for the sole purpose of killing? I'll answer for you. All of them, not too long ago. They are hypocrites. At heart, they are all cold-blooded killers. Some just realize it before others. They're the lucky ones. The ones who leave the Order before it's too late. Before that viscous little nerdy one gets them and takes their Force. Oh yes, we know more about the Order than they think. Far more. They underestimate us, just as I know you underestimate me."

At this, Belten ignited his weapon, the red and silver beams of energy extending form their respective sides of the handle. He made no aggressive movement, though. He wanted the Jedi to attack first. He would have a moral victory today, if nothing else.

[Lysander Odakota]

"It's a cloak, actually.”

“I’m glad you have your priorities straight in knowing the difference,” he informed the other, tempted to roll his eyes but managing to not. While he could appreciate the good humor, it was the focus on the petty detail--a weird show of arrogance, really--that just made him want to do anything but take this guy seriously.

He knew better, though. For all the dry humor and petty banter, this was a very, very dangerous man he was dealing with. He would have been more the fool to not take him seriously. He had to work past the casual front the other proposed and keep his focus on the darkness at the center of it.

Of course, that was easier said than done, especially when the other decided to show off, levitating himself instead of merely standing. He’d planned that. Lysander knew he’d planned that. Theatric entrances or what have you. Lysander had never seriously planned a theatric meeting in his life and he just thought it was so... weird. He didn’t even have the right word to describe how he felt about it. It was just such a slap in the face to the Force, really, to use it that way. It bothered the Jedi, but even that show of disdain for the galactic importance of the Force had to be ignored if he wasn’t going to get distracted.

"Far too easy to get away. You didn't even make it a challenge. Pity, really."

“Yeah, well, I’ll give you that,” he smiled, no actual joy behind it. He wasn’t an Investigator by profession and while his tracking skills were impressive, they weren’t perfect, and it was clear... “You darksiders always have been good at hiding. If you weren’t, you’d have been quelled a long, long time ago.”

The darkside obscured a Jedi’s vision, taking the skills he might have used to track down any other opponent and muddling them. That’s why it was so necessary for any and all Jedi with any decent tracking skills to utilize them. Lysander was just glad he was among those who had more than a little experience in such.

That, and Mondi seemed happy to exaggerate in an effort to get under Lysander’s skin. Unluckily for the Cultist, that was far, far harder to do than one might have thought. While Lysander had been born with a tendency towards a quick temper and sharp words, he had long since overcome those problems. Indeed, his patience had become one of his greatest strengths. It was necessary, or he wouldn’t have done well in this life he now walked.

"I would never want to upset a big, bad Jedi.... How many of them have gone out into the galaxy for the sole purpose of killing? I'll answer for you. All of them, not too long ago... Oh yes, we know more about the Order than they think. Far more. They underestimate us, just as I know you underestimate me."

Same old song and dance... The only way to overcome the lightside was to attempt to make it look like it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The Jedi, bearers of that light, had for millennia been the subject of the toughest of critics. Every darksider from the beginning of time had tried to justify what they did by pulling apart their opposing force. Shame for Mondi, though, Lysander had been through all these debates in his own head for all of his life, and he knew without a doubt that none of the criticisms ever held up well under sure dissection.

He could have gotten into an argument here, could have let the other get to him. But he knew better and had been prepared for such comments. He would have been disappointed if Mondi hadn’t at least tried to get to him by accusing the Jedi of being hypocrites. Mondi was welcome to fool himself into believing whatever he wanted. Lysander knew what he was doing was right, and what he had done in the past was right, and he felt no shame for what had gone down at Korriban. No, his only regret was that Mondi had gotten away at all.

The fact that the Cult seemed to have more information about the Jedi than they had previously thought was a little troubling, but not enough to dwell on. It wasn’t like the Order hid itself completely, so it wasn’t unreasonable that, with a little digging, the Cult had found out some basic things about the Order and some of it’s members. Daunting it was not.

“I don’t underestimate you,” Lysander told the wild-eyed man simply. The Cult and Mondi were a dire threat. That was why preemptive action had been taken against them. Obviously, they chose not to see it that way, but when the lightside of the Force was your guide, it was easier to see these simple facts.

The other lit his double-bladed ‘saber and Lysander had to resist once again grimacing at the rather ridiculous--in his opinion, humble as it may be--weapon.

Unvexed as ever, but on the aggressive side for a Jedi, Lysander knew the fight was inevitable and took the lighting of that weapon as an aggressive move on the other’s part. There was no point in letting himself wait it out for the other to finally decide to make the first move. Daylight was fading, they didn’t have the time, and on the chance Mondi was stalling for some reason, Lysander wasn’t going to let him wait it out.

With one last flip of the hilt against his palm, the Jedi lit his blue blade, and without missing a beat, made that first critical move without hesitation. He knew it wasn’t a move to connect, so he didn’t put too much force behind it--just enough to start working Mondi backwards. There was no doubt in the Guardian’s mind, though, that this was going to be a long, good fight. And it would inevitably end with him as the victor, of that he felt certain.

[Belten Mondi]

“I’m glad you have your priorities straight in knowing the difference.”

Belten smirked. At least this Jedi knew the fine art of sarcasm. It made conversation with him slightly less tiresome than with other Jedi. It still wasn't as enjoyable as speaking with, say, a wall, but it was a way to pass the time at least. Plus, Belten had already decided not to make the first move. He wanted the Jedi to make the first move. He wanted to prove that the Jedi were just as aggressive as anybody else in the galaxy, even if there was nobody there to witness it. He would prove it to himself, and to this Jedi.

“You darksiders always have been good at hiding. If you weren’t, you’d have been quelled a long, long time ago.”

Again, the Lord smirked. This Jedi's arrogance was astounding. He truly did underestimate the Dark Side. The Jedi saw the Dark Side as dangerous, they were afraid of its power. It was why the Jedi could never completely eliminate the Dark Side of the Force. They didn't have the heart or the courage to do it. The Dark Side wold always persist, it would turn Jedi if necessary. The Dark Side would never, no, it could never die.

“I don’t underestimate you.”

Yes, you do, Belten thought to himself. It was in the nature of the Jedi to fear what they did not understand, and to underestimate what they did not practice. They were so insular that Belten would have pitied them if it weren't for their arrogance and piety.

Upon igniting his lightsaber, Belten felt and saw the Jedi tense. Poor, poor Jedi. He was so uptight and ready for a fight that even the simple act of igniting a 'saber almost caused him to visibly twitch. The Knight then ignited his own weapon and took a swing at the Lord. It was a halfhearted attack, which gave Belten plenty of time to react. Instead of blocking the attack or moving backwards (as the Jedi had no doubt planned him to do), Belten sidestepped the attack, bent his legs slightly, and sprang up and over the Jedi's head. He did a 180 degree turn in midair, and landed on the other side of the Jedi, cloak fluttering about him as he landed.

"Oooh too slow," the Lord remarked in a mocking tone. "No wonder it took you so long to catch me. Not only are you slow of wit, but also of action."

Belten was no master of Dun Moch, but he generally knew how to agitate others and get under their skin. He was still searching for this Jedi's vulnerable spots, but he had no doubt that he would find them eventually. Something told him that this would not be their last meeting.

Without taking a look behind him, Belten knew that there was another roof about thirty yards away and roughly ten yards below the one upon which the two opponents were standing. With a smirk and a small cock of his head, Belten pushed backwards off of the edge of the roof. He sailed through the air, landing gently, with the aid of the Force, on the other roof. He stood on the roof's edge, lightsaber ready, waiting for the Jedi to jump.

"Catch me if you can, little Jedi."

[Lysander Odakota]

"Oooh too slow. No wonder it took you so long to catch me. Not only are you slow of wit, but also of action."

Lysander really didn’t like showoffs. Mondi was nothing if he was not a showoff, it seemed. Theatrics and shows of flagrant power were not something that Lysander would ever take any stock in--they weren’t cut and dried and efficient, and a Jedi’s duty demanded efficiency. The up and over the head maneuver was rather over the top providing the situation. Sidestepping should have been enough. A parry would have been excellent. But nope, the Cultist had to flip around like some leaf in the breeze.

The efforts of the other to aggravate the Jedi were also lost on Lysander. Fact was, Llysander wasn’t slow, and he knew it, so to have the other mock him with that “fact” did nothing to ruffle his proverbial feathers.

Mondi was going to have to try harder to find the weaknesses in this Knight’s calm.

And then the Lord ran. Or rather, jumped. Backwards. More flighty leaf movements on his part, which Lysander watched with a certain amount of disdain. He knew the other wouldn’t run--if he’d wanted to run, he would have been long gone by now. What did he expect him to do?

Honestly. If this fight hadn’t been personal before, Mondi certainly was doing a good job at making it.

"Catch me if you can, little Jedi."

“Are you seriously going to keep running? Afraid that this time you won’t walk away if you attempt to match skills?” Lysander called across the gap in the buildings. He debated following, then decided not to. Not until his opponent made another move.

Though, admittedly, it was tempting to just tug the other off the edge of the building with the Force. Shame it probably wouldn’t work as nicely as to send the Cultist plummeting to the depths of Coruscant.

Staying on the edge of his own building, he watched Mondi carefully, waiting for the other to make a move to act upon. He felt a little like a corellian sand panther, lurking over a target on a ledge overhead. Mind, this prey was also a predator, of equally dangerous perameters.