Merry Christmas Guys.

Have a present.

A new story about Revan and Revan. I was reading the novel written after KOTOR and in some ways KOTOR 2. Which sparked some ideas in my head, lovely ideas that continued to disturb me as I sit here and think.

What if, to be Dark is to be twisted. Pragmatism is only another lie. Truthfully the geas made him indulge in his darker aspects, made him agree that this was perfectly fine. Anyone can be changed, given enough torture.

And then the brightest spark of yourself comes back, to remind you and all others in your rank what theyhave lost. Wouldn't it just be the most fun to corrupt that spark?

This is Pre-Kotor. Rated M.

(Two years into Revan's return and subsequent attack on the Republic)

It was safe to say, waking up to being dragged by your arms through the dirt was the definition of a bad day. All of his senses were blinded, he could barely feel the force, and even that was a soft pulsating light in the back of his head. He could feel the heavy and cold metal collar around his throat. Not to mention the blood leaking sluggishly from the blaster burn across his right shin.

He knew he was being dragged past a fairly wooded area, that the trees were very tall and the sky was a faint blue color. And the smoldering wreck of a ship was burning merrily in the background. If he squinted he bet he could see an arm poking out of the wreckage.

Vaguely, past the drugs and neuro suppression collar, he began to recall what happened.

They were on a ship heading towards a commerce planet. Master Zhar and himself were sent on a diplomatic mission to help alleviate grievousness between two merchants families. It was finished quite quickly as it turned out that a third merchant group wanted to cause a blood feud was using the other two families against each other.

While Master Zhar was negotiating, he had gone off to find out if anything was different from what the reports were given. After a bit of snooping, he found the data files that there were planted and traced them to their original source.

From there it was quite easy to compile all the data and to present it during a massive meeting with all the merchant heads were gathering. He had to trick Master Zhar though, so the shock on his face was quite pure. Sometimes it was easier to do a mission by yourself, too many variable could spoil a plot after all.

He was lightly reprimanded of course, Zhar knew him too well to not be too entirely surprised. "(Your stubbornness and willfulness will get the better of you my young padawan)." He spoke in his native tongue, finding it easier than galactic standard.

"(But it worked didn't it?)" He was quite versed in Twi'leki as well as basic.

"(This time and perhaps the next, but one day you will be unable to solve problems simply by yourself. That is why I am here, why the masters are here. We are a team.)"

"(Yes master.)"

His light scowl only further amused his Twi'lek master as his short cropped hair got ruffled in a rare sign of affection. "(Have you been looking for something to remember me by?)" A soft tug on his padawan braid.

"(Yes master. I got one for Vrook and Vander.)" The small trinket braided into his hair barely gleamed in the light. "(I haven't found one yet for my first Master.)"

"(You found an interesting way to get around attachments young one.)"

"(I learned from the best.)" Arrogance was the best look that could describe his face at the moment, youthful arrogance. "(Besides we all keep mementos from our masters, I just happen to have many masters. I want to remember you all.)"

Master Zhar would remember the slightly petulant look on his some infrequent padawan's face, the worry that was in his eyes and most of all the concern he saw them in. This child he felt for sure would become one of the Jedi's greatest knight. To look at him was to see the heart of the Force, a star that shined so brightly it eclipsed all other things.

It was an old man's folly that blinded him to the darker things, that not all destines end in the light.

Which could explain why he was being dragged through the mud and the dirt like a piece of luggage. Not very important luggage as those people would be swung up onto shoulders and lumped onto transport. No, whoever ambushed him seemed to have a fairly low opinion of Jedi.

That or just a low opinion of him.

After what seemed to be miles, his back hit cold steel. A stream of cold air circled around as did the bright lights that gave him a clear idea of where he was. Not a ship, a compound of sorts.

"Jedi prisoner." The gruff voice of the tall man holding his chains echoed funnily in his head. The explosion must of rattled his ear drums and without any suitable access to the Force he couldn't heal them quickly.

It was a bit hard but doable to tilt his head to the side, catching the glint of his lightsaber on the other man's belt. Huh, two glints. He didn't see any other prisoners. Where was his master? The panicked thought was quickly submerged and told to shut up.

"Only one?" Feminine, curt.

"Only one alive, the others were killed in the explosion."

"Oh, this one looks young. Poor little thing, probably won't survive the trials."

"None ever do." A harsh laugh escaped his captor's voice. "Are you going to join in?"

"No. Only untested students do. I don't need to prove myself by killing half grown Jedi."

More dragging, passed through a few security check points, down a few floors. They must be underground now, the recycled air was a bit stale.

He was thrown into a semi-lit room. The collar remained on, but at very least the drugs wore off by then and he could get a good look at the other inhabitants of the room. They were all Jedi, a few Zarbacks, a Twi'lek and some humanoids he couldn't name. They were roughly his age or younger, half grown indeed.

Half grown and a bit trimmed in his opinion. The taste of desolation, defeat and despair filled the room with a nasty sour atmosphere. They were all children, some missing limbs or cradling semi-healed broken ones. One of the older ones walked over to him, helped him onto his feet or at the very least tried to. The inner ear damage made standing a very precarious fate.

It took a few minutes of sitting there, watching as the older padawan healed the damage. Unlike the others, she had access to the Force. "Hey, you going to be okay?"

"Yeah. Where are we?"

"In the bowels of a Sith base, about to be used as training fodder." A sharp glance at the some of the lesser injured padawans. "And other things."

It didn't take a force blind fool to understand that. Best to cast thoughts onto other more pleasant things. "The Sith, arn't they extinct?"

"No." She started working on his leg. "Not at all. Not when the Dark Lord came and called them to him."

Now with his brains less scattered and more in order, he was able to get a better picture of the place. It was a rather small room they were kept in, with only one door and no doubt a force field on the other side. No security cams, so they weren't a threat. Most of the faces were full of determination though some were in the throes of shock.

"You've just been recruited in blood sports. If you're lucky, you'll survive long enough to greet newcomers. If you're not lucky, you'll die. Probably in a horrible way with your limbs hacked off." Her blase attitude about the entire thing was a fresh breath of air. "The Sith are barbarians. But they're in control at the moment."

She patted his knee when she was done. "You look young and relatively not that harmed. You might not die. Course you might be unlucky and made to fight your own master." She jerked a thumb at one of the more traumatized younglings. "Haven't gotten a single peep out of that one."

They were all so young, easy pickings for adults. He felt disgusted by this, who else but the weak would pick on children to prove their strength? But there had to be something more complicated in this ruse, why else would they allow a group of force sensitive younglings to group and plot together? Their confidence must be so overwhelming it was blinding or they were waiting for them to try to break out. Chasing is more fun than shooting into a barrel.

There is some underlying meaning to these games, something that would explain why they were allowed to congregate. If their captors were indeed Sith, there is a deepr game being played. And one thing he could not tolerate, was playing someone else's game.

"What's your name kiddo?" She helped him up with a strong pull. "I'm Natasha."

"Revan." He gave her a charismatic smile. "And I'm going to make sure we're going to get out of here."