C33 The Black Order

C33 The Black Order

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The corridors of the Jedi Temple echoed with the remnants of the day's heated discussions, yet within the Council Chambers, a more solemn exchange unfolded between two of its most revered members.

Yoda's expression remained unreadable, yet his eyes narrowed slightly, a glimmer of concern passing through them. "Concerned, we should be?"

"Indeed," Mace Windu began, "Peter's actions during our recent mission... they've given me pause." The room seemed to close in as he recounted the events, the weight of his words hanging heavily between them. "His recklessness, his inability to heed my guidance, his unsettling enthusiasm for combat, not to mention the fact that he seems to be searching for his home planet—it's all so troubling, especially his condition after our mission had ended..."

"After the mission, how did he fare, hmm?" Yoda asked.

Windu sighed. "The aftermath hit him hard. Not because he regretted the fighting—on the contrary, his excitement was palpable, which is alarming in itself. But realizing the gravity of his actions... taking lives for the first time, and not just one but many, and his role in Ronan's death... I believe it's left a mark."

The gravity of the revelation hung in the air, a shadow casting over Yoda's wise features. "Troubling, this is. Early in a Jedi's path, such experiences can deeply affect their trajectory..."

Windu nodded, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. "I chose to withhold these observations from the council. I feared it would only sow discord between them and Peter. If he is indeed the Chosen One, having the council against him would serve no purpose. It falls to us, as his mentors, to guide him through this, and back onto the path of the light."

The silence that followed was telling, both masters lost in their thoughts on the delicate balance of nurturing their shared Padawan.

"Believe you, that towards the dark side, he might be headed?" Yoda's voice was soft, yet it cut through the tension with the precision of a lightsaber.

"Not yet," Windu admitted, the uncertainty of the future a heavy burden. "But the seeds are there, and if we're not careful, they could grow. We must be vigilant, guiding him with a subtlety that does not push him away but gently steers him back."

Yoda nodded, his eyes closing as if to peer into the vastness of the Force itself. "A fine line, it is, we walk. Ensure that we must, Peter does not stray further. Guide him with wisdom and compassion, we shall."

And on that note, their conversation drew to a close with the understanding that the path ahead would require patience, wisdom, and perhaps most importantly, faith in the Force.

As Windu left the council room, leaving a pensive and thoughtful Yoda behind, the weight of their shared responsibility was at the forefront of their minds. The future was uncertain, but they would do their best to steer it in a positive direction, ensuring Peter didn't fall down a path of darkness.

————

Not long after Windu and Yoda's talk concluded, Peter bid farewell to Nebula for the night, leaving her in one of the many guest quarters in the Jedi Temple, and navigated through the empty corridors, on his way to a certain secluded meditation room.

Ensuring no one was following, he activated the secret mechanism in the room, descending into the hidden basement below.

As he walked into the huge, open chamber, the spectral figure of Darth Revan awaited at the top of the purified Sith Shrine. The shrine crackled with power as Peter climbed to the top, greeting his master.

"Hey, I'm back," Peter announced, a joking smirk masking his face, holding up his new hammer. "Like my new toy? I had to kill a few dozen guys to get it."

Darth Revan, ignoring the weapon completely, read through Peter's smiling facade. "Is this to be considered unfortunate?" He asked, clearly unbothered by the killing. "Tell me, what burdens your mind, my foolish apprentice?"

"It's not necessarily a bad thing..." Peter recounted the events of his mission, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of conflict. He spoke of the battle, the lives he had taken, and the turbulent emotions that followed, as well as his later acceptance of it all.

As Revan listened, his ghostly visage remained impassive. Yet, when Peter finished, Revan's response was measured, his tone imbued with the weight of centuries.

"Killing is an inescapable facet of existence, Peter, especially for the Sith," Revan's voice resonated throughout the chamber. "Whether in times of peace or conflict, be it as a Jedi, a Sith, or simply someone defending what they hold dear, one must be ready to take lives. It's not the act itself that shapes you, but the intent that drives it. Embrace it as a necessary deed, and carry on."

Peter listened intently, the words striking a chord within him. "Yeah, that's sort of the conclusion I came to as well..."

In a moment of reflection, Revan then imparted, "Moreover, remember those fools sought your demise first, which sealed their fate from the start. They should consider themselves fortunate it wasn't I, or another Sith, for had it been, their end would not have come so gently. Believe me, the quick demise you granted them was an act of mercy. Because even for us Sith, justice served in defense of your own life is nothing if not righteous."

Revan's perspective was starkly different from that of his Jedi mentors, yet it carried an undeniable truth. The galaxy was not black and white, and neither were the decisions he would have to make.

The more he thought of it, the more Peter found himself agreeing more and more with that sentiment, minus the small bit about torture, of course.

.

A week had passed since the demise of Ronan the Accuser, and the galaxy found itself on the cusp of a shifting paradigm. The Galactic Republic, traditionally neutral and without a standing army, had cast its lot with the Nova Empire.

Though the Senate sent no troops—its policies strictly forbidding it—the assistance it provided in the form of things like weapons and ships at reduced costs, and strategic intelligence marked a significant turn in the tide against the aggressive Kree Empire.

Peter, back at the Jedi Temple, found himself reading on his datapad, skimming through the most recent string of information warfare between the Republic and the Kree Empire.

The data pad he and Master Windu had taken from Ronan was now a weapon in the Republic's arsenal. Cracked open by the finest slicers, its logs revealed the extensive war crimes committed by Ronan, laying bare the brutalities of the Kree Empire for the entire galaxy to see on the holonet.

The Kree's image was tarnished, their moral high ground eroded by the revelations of their own viciousness. But the Kree were not a people to take such slights lying down. In retaliation, they launched their own salvo in this war of information.

Footage from Ronan's ship surfaced, depicting Peter and Windu's actions in a light most unfavorable. The narrative spun by the Kree painted the Jedi as aggressors who attacked unprovoked, executed Ronan and his men in cold blood, and desecrated the dead by looting the Universal Weapon and the data pad, demanding they be returned immediately.

But the demands for their return rang hollow; these were spoils of war, and the Kree, now declared enemies of the Republic, had no claim over them in the eyes of the Republic or its allies.

Peter, lounging in his quarters, couldn't help but smirk at the absurdity of the situation. "Not giving it back, that's for sure," he muttered to himself, eyeing the Universal Weapon propped against his wall. 'My precious...' He thought, jokingly.

The Jedi Council, for their part, remained silent on the matter. The murky waters of war were not their usual arena. Yet, the involvement of two of their own had sparked some debate.

Whispered discussions filled the corridors of the Temple, a mixture of concern, disapproval, and in some cases, quiet admiration for the daring actions of Peter and his master.

In this war of information, Peter found himself in the eye of the storm, though it didn't seem to bother him much.

'I'll just keep doing my thing. Let them say whatever they want...'

————

In the distant reaches of Wild Space, where the stars themselves seemed to be shrouded in darkness, Thanos, the Mad Titan, sat upon his throne. Around him knelt his children: Ebony Maw, his voice as silken as it was deceitful; Cull Obsidian, a mountain of muscle and malice; Proxima Midnight, swift and lethal with her spear; Corvus Glaive, his figure tall and imposing.

[Insert pictures of the Black Order here] (A/N: Do you guys want Supergiant in this story as well? She wasn't in the movies because she's overpowered tho.)

And lastly, the youngest, Gamora, her frame small and battered due to the brutal tutelage she's been forced to endure since losing her usual sparring partner.

A holographic screen above them flickered, playing the video released by the Kree Empire, the visage of Nebula, Thanos's runaway daughter, coming into focus.

Gamora, her features twisted in a frown, bore witness to the sister she hadn't seen in over a week, the sister who, in her eyes, had committed the unfathomable sin of fleeing their father's dominion, a sin she'd contemplated committing as well, but never had the courage.

Thanos, his gaze fixed on the hologram, watched with an unreadable expression as the two mysterious Jedi executed Ronan the Accuser. His interest piqued not by the act itself, but by the unmistakable sight of Nebula rushing over and embracing one of the Jedi with what could only be described as relief and joy.

The hologram vanished, and Ebony Maw stepped forward, his voice a whisper that filled the room. "My lord, shall we retrieve our wayward sibling?"

Thanos sat in silence, contemplating the request before finally answering. "Yes, send Corvus and Proxima..."

Before they could leave, Gamora spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. "Father, may I... May I go with them? It was my fault Nebula left. I wish to bring her back myself."

Thanos raised a brow, his gaze shifting towards Gamora, noticing the bruises and wounds that marred her otherwise green complexion. With Nebula gone, Gamora had been pitted against Proxima, a battle she was destined to lose from the start.

Proxima and Corvus exchanged looks, their disdain for the idea clear. Yet, all eyes were on Thanos, awaiting his decree.

After a moment that stretched like an eternity, Thanos nodded. "Yes, Gamora. You may accompany them. Perhaps, in doing so, Nebula will return with less resistance."

Proxima and Corvus begrudgingly accepted the decision, though their expressions spoke volumes of their doubts.

As they prepared to depart, Thanos's voice echoed throughout the chamber, a commandment that left no room for failure. "Bring her back. And if she resists... remind her of her place in this universe..."

A/N: 2251 words :)