C95 Backstab

C95 Backstab

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"Help?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with contempt and a heavy Russian accent. "You come here and bring nothing but death, yet you say you want to help?" She spat on the floor in Peter's direction, her contempt clear.

Peter raised an eyebrow, unfazed by her hostility. "And who might you be?"

The woman straightened, her eyes narrowing. "I am the Headmistress of the Red Room Academy," she declared proudly, her voice resonating with defiance. "I think the real question is... who are you?"

Peter felt a dark vibe emanating from her, as if she had the potential to be a powerful Sith had she not been born on Earth. He glanced at Revan, who stood nearby, and they exchanged a knowing look.

Deciding to handle her discreetly, Peter turned back to the crowd, ignoring her completely. "We're here because General Dreykov p*ssed off the wrong people, us. We came to help a friend escape from his control and to dismantle his operations. Now that he's gone, we want to offer you all a choice."

The headmistress sneered, preparing to interrupt again, but Peter's eyes hardened. With a subtle gesture, he used the Force to push her back into her seat. The pressure on her old bones forced her to sit, her defiance momentarily subdued.

Peter continued, addressing the crowd. "You are free now. Free to live your lives as you see fit. We have no intention of using you as Dreykov did. The Red Room Academy is closed, and you can choose your own paths from here on out."

A murmur spread through the room, a mix of disbelief, hope, and confusion. One of the younger girls hesitantly raised her hand. "What happened to the general and the soldiers?"

Peter looked at her, his expression softening. "Dreykov is dead. So are his soldiers. Everyone in this room is all that’s left of the Red Room Academy."

The reactions were mixed. Some faces showed relief and even happiness, while others were filled with fear and uncertainty. The weight of their newfound freedom was both exhilarating and terrifying.

"Now, I know I said you’re free," Peter began, his voice steady, "and you are. But I won't be letting you go just yet."

The room erupted into a cacophony of confused murmurs and whispers. Even the headmistress couldn’t hold back. "See, he’s a liar just like the rest of them!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the noise. “I’ve told you girls countless times, you can’t—“

Peter's eyes narrowed, and he increased the gravity on her body using the Force once again. The headmistress gasped, the weight causing her seat to groan alongside her body.

"I’d appreciate it if you’d let me finish speaking before jumping to conclusions," Peter said coolly. He released the pressure, allowing her a moment to catch her breath.

Turning back to the crowd, Peter continued. "The reason I'm not letting you go immediately is because each of you has been brainwashed by the Red Room to a certain extent. I don’t feel right letting you out into the world just yet. First, we need to help you remove the brainwashing."

The headmistress sputtered, her face red with anger. "There is no brainwashing!" she yelled. "This is absurd!"

The crowd seemed to take her side, murmuring in agreement, many of them unaware of the control the Red Room had taken from them.

The room was filled with skeptical looks, but Peter remained undeterred. "Give it a try. What do you have to lose?"

For the next hour, Peter guided them through the same meditation techniques he had taught Natasha. The room slowly filled with a sense of calm as the women and girls followed his instructions. The initial skepticism began to melt away as they felt the beginnings of control returning to their minds.

As Peter moved among them, offering guidance and encouragement, the Headmistress stood off to the side, her angry glare never leaving Peter for a moment. She attempted to leave a few times, but Peter’s crew watched her closely, particularly Revan, whose ghostly presence seemed to unsettle her the most.

When Peter finished the session, he addressed the group. "You can return to your rooms now. We’ve changed the locks and codes for the base, so it’s officially under our control. You won’t be able to enter any restricted areas, only the mundane ones like the cafeteria, bedrooms, classrooms, and so on."

The women and girls began to file out, excitement and hope in their expressions as they eagerly discussed their plans to continue meditating and regaining control over themselves. Peter watched them with a sense of accomplishment, knowing they were on the path to freedom.

As the last of the crowd moved toward the exit, Peter noticed the Headmistress trying to blend in and sneak away. "Hold on a second," he called out, his voice firm.

The Headmistress froze, her plan to escape thwarted. The room fell silent as everyone turned to see what would happen next. “...”

Peter motioned for the Headmistress to follow him. "I need to have a conversation with you," he said, his tone casual yet authoritative.

The Headmistress narrowed her eyes, clearly wary and untrusting. “...”

Peter, sensing her hesitation, softened his approach. "Listen, I understand your position. You’ve been running this place for a long time, and I can’t imagine it’s easy. But I think we can help each other."

Her eyes flickered with interest at the mention of help. "Help each other? How?"

Peter gave her a reassuring smile. "Why don’t we have a private talk? I have an offer for you, something that could be beneficial to both of us."

The Headmistress, intrigued by the prospect, nodded slowly. "Alright." She agreed, her mind racing with schemes, formulating plans to take back what she believed to be rightfully hers.

After all, with the general dead, she saw herself as the new leader of the Red Room, and she couldn’t let some group of freaks come in and take that from her, could she?

Peter led her through the base to a secluded area, far from prying eyes and ears. His crew didn’t follow; he had instructed them to start looting the place, giving them access to all the doors.

As they reached the secluded spot, which just so happened to be Dreykov’s old office, the Headmistress looked around, still cautious but less guarded. "What is this offer you speak—“

Before she could react, Peter’s hand moved swiftly to his belt. He drew his lightsaber, igniting its black blade with a menacing hum. The Headmistress barely had time to register what was happening before the blade pierced her back, cutting through her with lethal precision.

Her eyes widened in shock, a choked gasp escaping her lips as she crumpled to the ground, smoke billowing from the sizzling hole in her chest.

Peter deactivated the lightsaber, the black blade disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. “Sorry, Headmistress, but I don’t feel like dealing with Sith types. Besides, you’ve lived a long life already, haven’t you?”

A/N: 1900 words :)