High upon the peaks of mountain Or'ena, the ruins of the Velastari temple glinted in the setting sun. A loan figure sat crossed legged at the edge of the cliff, with his back to the ancient building. The winds shifted, tugging at the Miralukas' long hair and headband.
Revs reached inside of his robes and pulled out a flask. Taking a long drink, the alcohol helping fight off the feeling of being cold.
" Do you know why we don't call them targets?" The voice of his first master Celevon Erinos echoed in his head.
"Because a target implies that they may escape. We refer to them as deaders, because once you have accepted the contract they are dead. Failure will not be tolerated."
The words of his old teacher were quickly replaced by those of Marick Arconae. "Quit wasting time. You have one purpose, eliminate the threats and move on with your mission. We do not take prisoners, nor do we leave survivors."
Revs had been trained by some of the Brotherhood's top assassins during the time since he graduated from the Shadow Academy on Arx. His career started with killing petty criminals who were wanted dead by rival gang member. From there he would move on to take out major underworld crime lords in Port O'rval. He had fought in two wars. From fighting on the front lines, to assassinating enemy generals in their sleep. He had never questioned his training, never thought twice about taking a life. But now here with the Jedi…..things were changing.
He had come to Odan-Urr in a desperate attempt to get his younger sister away from the Shadow Clan. She had graduated at the top of her class, and the thought of his baby sister being made into a weapon or left to the hands of a Darkside user who used torture for a teaching tool made the Shadesworn sick to his stomach. Here training with the Jedi, her command of the Force had excelled. Even Revs himself had learned a few new tricks, and even found his entire outlook on things changing.
The Miralukas mind wandered to a recent mission he had run. It was a simple job, to hunt a rogue Togruta that had been harrowing a local village over whether or not they should live as farmers or hunters. It was a simple enough task. The assassin could have easily killed the target and been done with the job, but Aura had requested that he not kill the poor hunter.
The scene played out in Revs head again. The Togruta laying on the ground, the viridian blade of the Mystics lightsaber to its neck. One quick push and the job would have been over right there, but Revs stopped. The Zeltron standing behind him tensed as if waiting to see what the former Shadesworn would do. Revs still couldn't figure why he chose to spare the Togruta's life, but if it made the boss happy he guessed. Maybe he was going soft, maybe he was just getting sick of killing. Either way he decided to take his first prisoner that day. Much to Aura and the rest of the teams surprise.
*Maybe it's time to turn a new page.* he thought to himself. *Maybe it's time to just settle down and live a peaceful life for once.* Revs chuckled at the thought. "Yea and maybe I'll quit drinking and settle down. Find a good girl." He stumbled a little as he stood up, talking to himself "Or maybe I can go back to Port O'rval. Lots of good drinks and women there."
Revs turned his back to the setting sun and started to walk into the long forgotten temple. "I hope they still got some beds in here."