Chapter Six: Pride

Windu barked out a harsh laugh, lips curling into a spiteful grin. His dark eyes glimmered maliciously. "I see that your ego has misled you once again, Skywalker. You are a master of nothing; you are nothing. All that lays before me is a treacherous fool, ensnared by his petty little delusions of grandeur. Even after all these years, it's clear to me that you've failed to shed the chains of slavery—the only difference is that you now serve the false idol of your own base instincts, choosing to reject any hope of true freedom so as to satiate your foul craving for power," he jeered, igniting his saber. The violet light of the blade cast strange, unearthly shadows across his face.

"I am a slave to no one," Vader hissed, eyes blazing wildly as the sick burn of the Dark coiled and writhed within him. The initial bliss that accompanied his invocation had quickly transformed into a terrible, scorching heat that licked its way through his veins like fire. A swift slide from ecstasy into agony was a distinct mark of the sinister, duplicitous nature of the Dark Side. Vader was intimately familiar with the twisted allure the Sith arts held, as they were ever so cleverly gilded with a thin veneer of splendor—that false promise of power without price—but once torn asunder, the rot beneath lay revealed. There was always a price to be paid, in the end. He just hadn't known how hefty the toll would be until it was too late. Forever deprived of the serenity of the Light when living, then damned to an eternity of suffering in Chaos once he shuffled off the mortal coil. Even the barest touch of the Dark would cast a shadow over a Force-user, be a permanent taint on their soul. Anakin Skywalker had been too blinded by his fear and hatred to see the truth, but Vader—oh, he was all too aware of the consequences such powers carried.

The Dark had settled deep into his bones, been woven into the very sinews of his fleshly body—rushing through his blood as though it were a cruel, inexorable pathogen, a sickness devouring him from the inside out. Vader would call it a parasite, but that would be far too easy; he could not entirely shift the blame from his shoulders. They existed together in a mutualistic, symbiotic relationship—one where his passions fed the savage inferno like tinder, and in turn he was bestowed with strange, terrible abilities no man should ever possess.

Perhaps . . . he was still enslaved, after all—at least to this tumorous growth, seeded with his brutal slaughter of the Tuskens who tortured and violated his precious mother, watered with the blood of the children he'd butchered without remorse. It was so clear to him now, almost painfully so. At his core, he had remained powerless and servile; unchanged throughout the tumultuous horror of his existence. The entirety of his wretched,pathetic life had merely been one long stretch of servitude; unbroken by even the most minute taste of liberty. The masters wore many different faces—Gardulla, Watto, Obi-Wan, Sidious—but that mattered little, because through it all Vader continued to bear the weight of subjugation. Even having escaped the grasp of these earthly beings, the oppressive presence of the Dark could not be purged from him.

His sole consolation was the knowledge that it was a prison of his own making, the direct consequence of a choice he could never bring himself to regret. How could he—not when it was all for her, his beloved Angel. Relinquishing his freedom in order to ensure Padmé's safety was a sacrifice that Vader would make a thousand times over. He could not call it suffering if it was in her name. In fact, he would rejoice in such acts if they were for the benefit of his Padmé. A thin smile stretched grotesquely wide across his face, and he could almost sense his wife's presence materialize beside him. Vader exhaled sharply, feeling the phantom press of her fingers dig into the soft flesh of his cheek and down the length of his neck. Her soft whisper echoed coldly in his ear: Do not forget your promise to me, my love. His eyes narrowed into slits, focusing on Windu's aggressive stance, wearing a disgustingly pleased expression as he reveled in Vader's apparent distress. Vader's fingers twitched in the anticipation of violence. No . . . he would not forget; he would ensure that her desired vengeance would be delivered, no matter the cost. Vader had failed her before, but not now—never again.

The electricity sparking in his right hand shot out towards Windu, coalescing into a white-hot spear of light. Windu pivoted sharply, swinging his violet blade around to deflect the deluge into the floor. The resulting blast shook the medical center, ground exploding into sharp chunks of tile and cement. Ahsoka lunged for Obi-Wan's hospital bed, pushing it off to the side and out of the line of fire. It crashed against the opposite wall, impact nearly pitching the man off the metal frame. She pulled out her own sabers, the movement inciting Billaba into action.

The woman darted towards Ahsoka, green blade in hand as she twisted into the sharp, rapid movements of Vaapad. The Togruta barely managed to deflect Billaba's attack in time, weapons nearly pressed into the soft flesh of her chest by the sheer force of the strike. I need a little help here, Skyguy! She shouted at Vader across their bond, scraping her blades down the length of Billaba's lightsaber and ducking around the woman. She dropped into a roll and flipped backwards, landing deftly on her feet. Ahsoka's nervous tension was palpable, even hidden beneath the thin façade of confidence she so boldly wore. Vader held no contempt for her, though—she was facing off against one of the most skilled Knights in the Jedi Order in single combat, after all. He was more inclined to commend Ahsoka for her bravery rather than disparage her for being afraid. It was made all the more astounding on her part because just yesterday these people had been her comrades, her friends—and now here she was, willing to toss that all aside for the sake of her loyalty to him.

He couldn't help the surge of affectionate warmth that rose within him, and he sent her a quick message hopelessly tinged with fondness. You're doing well, Snips. Trust in your strength, and you will overcome this obstacle. Nothing can stand in the way of someone who has given themselves completely over to the Force. The stiffness drained from Ahsoka's face, and her body gave way to the lithe, easy grace she possessed in battle when uncompromised by weakness. She leapt forward with her blades raised high for an offensive strike, eyes glinting furiously. Billaba met her head on, their sabers clashing fiercely against each other, sending off a thick shower of sparks. Ahsoka twisted to the right and dragged the length of her shoto-style lightsaber down the length of Billaba's exposed side, managing to slice off a piece of the woman's robe. Vader's smile widened; his apprentice had this fight well in hand.

He turned his attention back to Windu, who had been watching the scene unfold with an eerily blank expression.

"This is a pointless effort, Skywalker. Your apprentice's youthful boldness will only carry her so far in a serious conflict with another Force-user. She will fall to Knight Billaba's blade, and for what—a futile attempt at abandoning your failure of an experiment in the Jedi Temple? If you thought that I wouldn't notice the foul sickness that pervades Kenobi, then you're sorely mistaken. It truly is unfortunate that it has to end this way for him, struck down by the black powers of his former padawan—the mark of ultimate disgrace for any Jedi. He is not damned yet, though. I will rescue him from such a fate by separating his spirit from the confines of his earthly flesh, thus allowing the good Knight to become one with the living Force. I cannot stand by idly and let this infection spread and fester within our ranks, even if it means ending Kenobi myself," Windu asserted, calm tone belying none of his mad fanaticism.

Vader had originally planned on killing Windu quickly, but this sadistic bastard had just earned himself a slow, drawn out death. There would be no mercy for him now. Vader raised his organic hand, unleashing another burst of lightning in the expectation that the other man would deflect it away. When Windu swiveled around to divert the electricity, Vader flicked on his saber and launched himself at the man, swinging his blade down in a harsh arc. Windu wrenched his arm upwards, deftly parrying Vader's thrust as his body moved so swiftly that he became a mere blur to the naked eye. Vader pivoted ever so slightly, jabbing his blade forward into short little stabbing motions that were met by what appeared to be dozens of lightsabers as Windu's repeated attacks coalesced into a hazy wall of violet light.

Vader gritted his teeth; true masters of Vaapad were incredibly difficult to defeat in close-range combat. The only way to be on equal footing with them was to predict where they would move, rather than try to repel the attack in the traditional manner. Once the strike became visible, it would be far too late to attempt any sort of counterattack. That was only one portion of his plan, though. Anakin Skywalker's weaknesses could be used to manipulate the situation in his favor, if he proceeded carefully. Windu had no knowledge of his maturation, nor the true scope of his experience in dueling. If he feigned ignorance and recklessness, the other man could very easily be lulled into a false sense of security. Arrogance was the man's fatal flaw, his Achilles' heel—and if that weakness could be used to Vader's benefit, then so be it. He had utilized far more underhanded tactics in the past.

Vader lashed out wildly with his saber, the movement appearing to be motivated by thoughtless haste, as though he was becoming lost to the heat of battle. As expected, Windu met his strike, reducing his speed so as to shoot an arrogant smirk Vader's way. Success, Vader thought, contorting his face into an expression of impotent rage. The other man noticed this, laughing derisively as he twisted sharply in an attempt to knock the handle out of Vader's hand. He let the blade be jerked out of his grasp, and feigned a fumbled attempt to catch it with his non-dominant hand. Windu ceased his movements, a clear indicator that he was about to launch into another zealous rant. Vader resisted the urge to roll his eyes; Windu really was all too predictable.

"This is pathetic. Give up now and your death will be quick. I might even spare your little padawan—if Knight Billaba doesn't kill her first, of course," Windu drawled, tone dripping with disdain.

"I don't really make a habit of just 'giving up,'" Vader retorted childishly, slipping once more into the character of Anakin Skywalker. The vein in Windu's forehead bulged ominously, and his eyes were hard.

"Very well. I see that you cannot be swayed from your path. I shall warn you though, Skywalker—no mercy will be provided to the living. After I end your worthless existence, both Kenobi and Tano will be on the receiving end of my own personal brand of justice. Death will be a welcome escape," he hissed.

Ah, so this was the true face of Mace Windu—a twisted mask of pride, a man driven by fear of what was considered to be other, of that which fell outside the narrow confines of his strict beliefs. What strange virtues this man must hold, to look on Vader with such furious contempt. Billaba seemed to agree with him, as she paused momentarily in her battle against Ahsoka to look askance at Windu, as though she was truly seeing him for the first time.

"Master, you cannot possibly mean that—" Billaba was cut off mid-sentence by the wet impact of Ahsoka's blades in her chest.

The Togruta had taken a flying leap at the woman in the expectation of having her attack parried, but in her distraction Billaba could not raise her weapon in time. Now she had been run through by a girl half her age, twin spears of light protruding grotesquely from her back. Billaba fell to her knees almost gracefully, staring up at the horror-stricken Ahsoka as she lightly fingered the handles of the sabers. She seemed almost confused, as though she couldn't quite grasp the situation she now found herself in. Blood dribbled from her lips, and she raised a shaky hand to her mouth, fingers coming away red. Billaba's eyes fluttered weakly, breath hitching—and then the woman collapsed, limp body sprawling across the cold tile of the medical center floor. Vader observed the situation with a detached humor. There was a certain irony to Billaba's death, for her to bleed out deep within the heart of the Jedi Temple, surrounded on all sides by comrades unable to come to her aid. He would have laughed, if not for the distress it would have caused his apprentice.

Ahsoka stood frozen above the fallen Jedi, surveying the scene with a blank look of shocked horror. Her hand was clasped over her mouth, and the whites of her eyes gleamed wetly in the harsh lights of the medical center. She heaved out a ragged breath and sank to the floor, gently caressing Billaba's slack face. Her hands were trembling. Vader could feel the raging swell of sorrow and regret rush across their bond, and he tightened his grip on the hilt of his lightsaber. This farce needed to come to an end; he just had to coax Windu into letting his guard down once more, and thentrue justice would be delivered.

"My Depa . . . you killed her!" Windu cried, his fixed state of shock finally broken. He propelled himself at Ahsoka, figure disappearing into a dark blur as he rushed through the air.

Vader cursed under his breath and leapt towards Ahsoka, who hadn't moved from her stooped position above the woman's corpse. She would be gutted if he didn't manage to deflect the attack in time. He landed in front of the Togruta's prone form, body contorting awkwardly as he swung his saber around to meet Windu's strike. The man seemed to appear out of thin air, violet blade impacting with such ferocity that Vader was nearly forced backwards. He gritted his teeth and swept the length of his lightsaber down Windu's, then back up again for another fierce attack. Windu repelled the strike and vaulted over Vader, touching down on the other side of Ahsoka. Vader lunged forward to meet the attack in spite of his poor position, blindly raising his weapon to parry Windu's thrust. He was rewarded with a fiery lick of pain that trailed down from his left eye and across his lips. A thick, tangy liquid gushed into his mouth, and the scent of metal permeated the air. Vader closed his injured eye and reacted on instinct, shifting into a more defensive form as he thrust his blade forward in short, compact stabbing motions.

Windu was forced to jump back in order to gain more room to maneuver, and that's when Vader saw his chance. He rolled over to the side and shot towards Windu's exposed side, saber sinking into his flesh with a wet squelch. Windu cried out in pain, but Vader did not abate. He dragged the blade upwards, ripping the man's abdomen open. Blood spewed out from the wound, drenching Vader's skin and hair. Coils of ropey intestines spilled out from the gash like an uncurled ball of gory twine, and the crudely bisected halves of his spleen and stomach slipped onto the ground, splattering on impact. Windu coughed out a thick globule of blood and hastily attempted to press the organs back inside himself. It was no use—liquid gore and viscera streamed through his fingers, innards breaking free of their fleshly confines. This continued for several moments, before Windu gave one last heaving gasp and lurched forward, gravity directing him towards Vader. The thick scent of metal filled Vader's nostrils as he became closely acquainted with what the inside of a human body felt like. He frantically shoved the other man's mutilated corpse off himself, ragged nails digging into slippery entrails as he clawed his way to escape.

Once relieved of his burden, Vader ran a calloused hand through his sticky hair and spat out a piece of what appeared to be Windu's lung. How lovely, Vader thought acidly, before crawling over to where Ahsoka lay hunched. The girl was still staring at Billaba's corpse, rendered nearly catatonic with dismay. Her morality crisis would have to wait until later, though. The Jedi surely would have sensed the loss of their comrades and begun to mobilize an attack squadron to hunt them down. He wasn't trying to be callous, but there was a time and place for coming to terms with the fact that you were a murderer—but now was not that time. Vader gently touched her shoulder, and when that elicited no response, he nudged her again—this time with more force. Ahsoka let out a small, broken sob and turned to face him. She looked impossibly young, and Vader was reminded that his apprentice was still just a girl.

"I-I killed her. I didn't mean to, but I did. What does that make me then, Skyguy—a killer, a murderer?" She asked, voice hitching with unshed tears.

Vader leaned forward and grasped the back of her neck, pressing their foreheads together. "No, Snips. This—this here, was a sacrifice. You cut out a part of yourself—one that is irretrievable—in order to save the life of a beloved friend. I would call that selflessness. Such innocence cannot be regained, my dear apprentice. You will bear this weight for the rest of your days. That is why the act of killing is predicated on the suffering of the transgressor," Vader murmured, stroking her montrals.

"I feel hollow—as though someone has taken a knife and scooped out my insides," she whispered.

"This will pass. It is a temporary agony, one that will be washed away by time. All who have taken a life have felt this pain. Just remember what drives you, Ahsoka—whether it be loyalty, devotion, or even love—and this weakness will not overcome you," he replied, kissing the top of her forehead as he pulled away.

Ahsoka's lips curled into a watery smile. "Thanks, Skyguy."

A series of loud bangs echoed through the hallway and into the medical center, followed by distant shouting. Vader muttered several obscenities and scrambled to his feet, pulling Ahsoka up with him. He stalked over to Obi-Wan's hospital bed, and draped the man's prone form over his shoulder.

"We need to leave. Now," he said, turning back to Ahsoka.

"How are we going to get out of here? We can't use the ventilation system because we ditched the speeder, and we sure as hell can't just stroll out the front door. We're fucking trapped!" She groaned, rubbing harshly at her temples.

"Perhaps not. Am I correct in the assumption that out in the hallway there is a large window situated directly to the left of this room?"

Ahsoka quickly ducked her head out the door. "Yeah, it's here."

"Good. That will be our point of exit," Vader said, pushing past her and striding over to the window in question.

"I'm getting the feeling that you have some sort of a plan in mind," she said, coming to a stop next to him.

"All windows located on the north side of the Temple face one of Coruscant's busiest skylanes. If we get enough of a running start and use the Force to aid us, we should be able to reach a speeder and commandeer it for our own purposes," Vader replied, raising his right arm to blast the glass outwards. He backed up to the other side of the hallway, and then sprinted forwards, taking a flying leap through the opening.

Cold air rushed past his face as he fell, lashing savagely at any exposed piece of skin. Tears budded in his remaining eye, and he ground his teeth together. Vader tightened his grip on Obi-Wan's body as he guided his trajectory with the Force, making sure that the man wouldn't be thrown from his shoulder when they landed. The speeders below increasingly grew in size, indicating that it would soon be time to make his move. Three, two, one—Vader stretched his mechanical arm out, managing to grab onto the side of a medium-sized, gold-plated craft.

The metal gave way under his inhuman fingers, and his body was jerked cruelly to the side as he was carried off by the vehicle. The sheer power behind their forward momentum made it impossible to twist his head around to note Ahsoka's progress, but he could feel her Force-presence swiftly approaching. She hurtled into his back, the force of the impact knocking the breath out of him. The Togruta frantically grasped for purchase as she slid down the length of his robes, making a desperate grab for Obi-Wan's ankle right before she would have been torn away. The added weight wrenched Obi-Wan out of Vader's hold, forcing him to extend his arm in order to prevent the both of them from falling to their deaths. The kickback from the motion dislocated his shoulder, and he let out a low grunt of pain.

He sent Ahsoka an urgent, pain-tinged message. I can't hold the both of you for much longer. You're going to have to find some way of getting onto the speeder, or we're all going to die. She responded in the affirmative, and began to awkwardly scale the length of their conjoined bodies. Halfway to her destination, Ahsoka yelped in surprise as she twisted to the side in order to dodge a blaster bolt. Several others followed the first, each coming closer to hitting their intended targets. By the Force, the owner of the craft was literally shooting at them as he tried to maneuver through the dangerous Coruscatni skylanes. Well this just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it? Vader thought, exhaling a ragged breath and tightening his grip on the speeder.

"Ahsoka, you must hurry!" He yelled, voice nearly lost to the howling winds that whipped past them.

The Togruta nodded and clambered the rest of the way up, flipping over the side of the craft and onto one of the seats. The driver shouted an obscenity and shot off several more blaster bolts in her direction, but Ahsoka nimbly dodged them and kicked the weapon out of the man's hand. She then executed an agile flip, twisting her body so she could pluck the blaster out of the air. Once Ahsoka landed, she brutally pistol-whipped the man across the face, knocking him unconscious. He crumpled onto the dash of the vehicle, but Ahsoka pushed his body off to the side and engaged the auto-pilot. She bounded back to where Vader lay clinging and grasped one of his arms roughly, attempting to drag him aboard. He aided her as much as he could considering his current situation, easing the strain behind the activity with the Force. When he managed to get one leg over the edge of the craft, Vader heaved Obi-Wan's limp body across the partition. The man impacted harshly against the armrest of one of the seats, but said nothing. Vader placed one hand on Ahsoka's elbow for support and boosted himself into the body of the speeder.

"You're going to need to pop my shoulder back into its socket," he rasped, chest convulsing with his labored breaths.

Ahsoka's mouth pressed into a grim line, but she silently complied, grabbing his bicep and pressing upwards with learned precision. Neither of them had any particular affinity for healing, and their participation in the Clone Wars had unfortunately made this process a regularity. He grunted as he heard the sick pop the humerus made as it was forced back into the glenoid fossa of his shoulder blade. The agony mattered little, though—it was momentary, and a mere distraction compared to the severity of their current situation. Vader patted Ahsoka on the cheek fondly and stalked over to the front of the speeder, settling into the pilot's seat. He disengaged the auto-pilot and brought the vehicle into a steep dive.

"Hey, Skyguy—we've got company!" Ahsoka yelled from where she lay crouched in the back of the craft.

"How many?" Vader asked, not daring to turn his head around. It was difficult enough to maneuver through Coruscanti airspace as it was, let alone with the sharp decrease in depth perception that accompanied the loss of an eye.

"There's about a dozen Jedi on our trail, with what appears to be the entirety of the Galactic City Police Force following behind!" She responded.

"Edoui zioplys! Fine . . . new plan—you take over control of the speeder while I handle our pursuers. Our destination is 500 Republica." Vader growled, getting to his feet and retrieving the blaster from where Ahsoka dropped it. He clipped it to his belt and turned towards the Togruta, whose face was unreadable.

"Are you going to kill them?" She asked quietly, almost like she was afraid of the answer. Vader's heart clenched painfully.

"Not unless I have to," he replied, unable to meet her gaze.

"I believe you," she said, lips twisting into a bittersweet smile as she briefly clasped their hands together. Ahsoka then flopped into the pilot's seat, revving the accelerator and swerving around an incoming speeder.

Vader grimaced, swallowing down a sob. It isn't supposed to be like this. I thought that I had changed—that I could be a hero in the eyes of those I love once more. He bit his lip, drawing fresh blood from the lightsaber burn. The pain was grounding, and cleared his head. He couldn't lose sight of his goal now, not when he was so close to being reunited with his beloved. The Dark writhed within him at the thought of her, spiraling into a living inferno that boiled his blood and scorched his flesh. Electricity crackled along his fingertips, and a strange, terrible grin curled across his face. His lip split even further, and blood dribbled down his chin. My Padmé . . . my beautiful Padmé. It won't be long now; soon we'll be together again.

Vader strode to the back of the craft and used his mechanical hand to pull out his blaster, firing off a precise array of bolts as he unleashed a fierce deluge of lightning with the other. The shots hit their marks, piercing through the thin metal that covered the engines of several speeders driven by the Galactic City Police Force. On impact, the vehicles lost power and veered wildly, dropping out of the sky and into the skylanes below. Three of the Jedi steered their own ships after those lost in free-fall in a desperate attempt to rescue them. The electricity arced along the silvery carapace of another craft, sapping it of its power much like the other. Another Jedi was forced to divert their attention to this matter, leaving eight members of the Order in pursuit. Their numbers were greatly bolstered by the literal army of police officers following their lead. I've faced worse odds, Vader mused nastily, re-holstering the blaster and flicking on his lightsaber.

Snips, I need you to slow down—I'm going to briefly enter into close-combat with our pursuers so that I can incapacitate their speeders. Stay close, and retain our original course. I'll tell you when I'm ready to return. The message was accepted by Ahsoka, who responded in the affirmative. She decelerated the vehicle, giving Vader enough room to take a flying leap at the Jedi-piloted craft located directly behind them. He swung his saber around in a fierce arc, cleaving through the intricate wiring of the engine. The Force-user in question—Ki-Adi-Mundi—lunged towards him with a swipe of his green blade, an attack which Vader parried with a swift upswing. He then twisted sharply and ducked into a roll, barely eluding the Cerean's next strike. Vader vaulted up and over the Jedi, jerking his arm brutally to the side so as to sever Ki-Adi-Mundi's head from his neck.

The decapitated appendage was carried away by the brutal winds created by the speed at which they were falling, smacking into the torso of an officer in pursuit. The velocity of the impact jarred the woman, causing her to yank her steering wheel to the left, a movement that unfortunately sent her spiraling into three civilian speeders. The resulting explosion blasted Vader off his feet and over the edge of Ki-Adi-Mundi's damaged craft. He blinked dazedly as he fell, lashes singed along with his skin from his proximity to the flame. The air rushed past his body, imbuing him with the sensation of weightlessness even though Vader knew he was anything but. The world above was a mere blur, a hazy wash of colors and lights. He rasped out laugh, the sound echoing out as obscene even to his own ears. He laughed even harder, chest convulsing raggedly. By the Force, he hadn't felt this alive in decades. He was flushed with the thrill of battle, the thrill of the chase—and it was sublime.

Vader thrust his right arm out to the side, saber catching onto the carapace of a dark blue speeder, indicating that it was piloted by a member of the Galactic City Police Force. He curled his abdomen upwards, swinging into a flip that hurled him into the belly of the ship. Multiple blaster bolts were immediately fired his way, but Vader deflected them easily and leapt forward, running him through and impaling the man into the dash of his own craft. He unsheathed his saber from the man's flesh, pivoting sharply in order to redirect a large projectile fired off from above. The progenitor of the missile was a hard-faced woman in her early forties, clad in a Sergeant's uniform and armed with the largest blaster cannon Vader had ever seen. She cut an intimidating figure, and Vader was impressed by her apparent ruthlessness. The remainder of the Galactic City Police Force had gathered around her, weapons pointed his way.

"Anakin Skywalker, we have you surrounded. If you come quietly, we will cease using lethal force against you. Should you choose to ignore my warning, then you will be shot down," she stated in a cold tone, voice magnified by a speaker placed on the lapel of her jacket.

"Oh, you may certainly attempt to kill me, Sergeant, but I sincerely doubt that you'll succeed," Vader retorted, cackling madly. He did not fear these people; he did not fear their superior numbers. All he had to do was trust in the Force, in his own skill with a blade, and he would overcome this obstacle.

"Fire," the woman intoned, her pale, forbidding eyes gleaming with a ferocious intensity.

Vader grinned and raised his blade, the Darkness within him set aflame.

A/N:

This is a bit of a strange take on how the Dark Side manifests in users, but I thought it would be an interesting interpretation.

Billaba was Windu's Padawan, and was also well-versed in the Vaapad style. She was also the master of Caleb Dume—otherwise known as Kanan Jarrus.

Sith Language Translation:
"Edoui zioplys!" — 'Those fools!'