05-26-2014, 09:36 PM
Race: African American
Age: 23
Height: 5'10”
Weight: 175 pounds
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Build: Slender, muscular, runner's physique.
Marcus DuBois was born in 2022 in Chicago, IL, younger brother to Andre DuBois. His mother was a crack addict and his father had left before he was born. So Marcus had no memory of his father and the memory of his mother would always be vague. She was far to interested in supporting her habit to be any kind of mother to them. A stream of johns, addicts, pimps and dealers were in and out of their apartment constantly, and the boys learned, even at that young age, to stay out of sight and look out for each other. That place stopped being their home when Marcus was 3 and Andre 4. They found their mother passed out in the living room, drool dripping from her open mouth, teeth a ruin, pipe on the floor, and they couldn't wake her. After having been discovered by a police officer out on the street as they were trying to get help, Child Protective Services (CPS) took them. Their mother was ruled an unfit parent, the boys became wards of the state and were dumped in the foster care system.
Dumped was the right word. Chicago in the 2020's was collapsing in on itself. Jobs were scarce, crime was high, and the economy was in the toilet. The once minimally cared for projects became a sewer and finding good foster parents was difficult. The foster care system was staffed by skeleton crews, the state unable to afford more than the minimal amount of people. The Federal government tried to help, both with the program and also with paying those individuals willing to take in children, but the CPS was only rarely able to do home inspections and follow up.
The first home they were placed in belonged to a woman named Denice, a wiry older woman with stringy hair and a dirty home. From the start, there was always a potential for danger in their interactions with her. Any kind of situation with her could easily turn, almost instantly, into something terrifying. Their time there ended when Marcus was 4. Andre was away at school and Denice had made fried eggs for Marcus' breakfast. After Marcus finished, he innocently asked for another. She looked at him irritatedly but made another. When he finished, she asked if he wanted another. He had no idea why she asked him. Her voice seemed normal, but the look on her face was dangerous and said, Boy, you better say no. Marcus' didn't notice that look. So she made another one and he ate it. He was full. She asked again, pushing. Now he was afraid to say no. She made another one and made him eat that. And another. And another. By the end, he was crying, snot running down his nose, yoke crusted on his lips, as she yelled at him and stood over him, smelly breath in his face, making him eat it. Seven eggs went down. They did not stay down. He threw up and she hit him upside his head, knocking him to the ground. She shoved his face into the mess and then dragged him to the closet and locked him in there. Then she shoved a chair under the knob so he couldn't get out. It was dark and Marcus was scared and sick and cried. He threw up again. Then he pounded on the door and begged to get out, promised to be good. Denice turned up the TV to drown him out. Hours passed. But on this occasion, their case worker happened to come by on an unscheduled visit. She found Denice half asleep on the couch and Marcus in the closet, covered with vomited egg. Andre came home from school to find their things packed and CPS ready to take them away.
So it went for the next 10 years. They were in placed with families, just the two of them, as well as in group homes. One home was run by strict religious disciplinarians who believed “spare the rod, spoil the child.” Any infraction brought immediate and swift punishment as well as hours of reading the Bible and praying. When he was 6, after spilling the milk while making cereal, Marcus spent two days in a dog cage with a bowl of water and dog food. But he learned to be neat and not make messes. Another time he was being punished- they wouldn't let him eat anything- so Andre tried to secretly give him some of his food. When Mr. VanPatton caught him, he filled the sink with water and held his head down in it while screaming about obedience. Marcus couldn't do anything to stop it.And in some of their homes, their foster-siblings were the abusers, using the cover of night to vent their anger and proclivities. Sometimes it was bullying and cruelty. Other times it was sneaking into his bed for darker deeds.
Through it all, Marcus and Andre survived, helping each other, warning of moods and threats. But Marcus grew dark with anger at the world he was in, the chaos and system that allowed these things to happen. His only escape was a tattered collection of old sci-fi novels he had found. There, Marcus lost himself in those worlds. Fighting battles, winning against enemies, bringing order to the world, mattering to the universe. His favorites were Star Wars novels, continuing the stories on past episode 9 and the TV show. It was a universe Marcus longed to live in, to have the power to bring order to his life, to protect himself. But Marcus found himself increasingly echoing the sentiments of the antagonists like Darth Bane, Darth Sidious and Darth Plagueis as they explained their philosophy of order, power and domination. It was when he read the Code of the Sith that it crystallized for him.
Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me.
He didn't tell Andre, but the day he read that was one of the days his life changed. From that moment on, that was his credo. He didn't have the force. But he didn't need it. This was his path to freedom. And the power to control his universe. They continued to pass through foster care home after home and it became a mantra that followed him through it all.
Another discovery that set his path came when he was 14. By then, they had been placed with a man and woman who seemed decent enough. But they always did at first. Marcus didn't trust them. It irritated him that Andre did. He was so naïve. Had he learned nothing? Sure, so far things had been pretty calm, for once in their lives. But Marcus was on guard anyway. He didn't trust it.
But on one fateful day lying on his bed, Marcus, who had just began studying geometry, found Euclid. And Marcus fell in love. He had never seen anything so pure and true. Chaos and uncertainty fled before Euclid's mighty pen, leaving a world that was pristine and exquisitely beautiful. Marcus marveled at Euclid's use of 5 self-evident truths and just a few propositions as the foundation and tools to build this edifice that was the study of shapes. With those tools, Marcus saw things proved, beyond any shadow of doubt or need for context or extenuating circumstance. It was pure holy logic and it was Truth. And Marcus embraced it, embraced the method of thinking it created, the willingness to reduce things and ideas and thoughts into their components and then systematically assemble them into structures that stood on their own.
And for once, Andre was right. The home turned out to be good place. But for Marcus, it was now just a place for him to pass his time. His life was his study, his philosophy. He never warmed to them and even grew distant with Andre. Instead, Marcus focused on his goals. He wanted control. He wanted order. He wanted purity and logic to exist in the outside world, not just the Platonic ideal. He finished school at 16 and received a scholarship to a university. He double majored, Mathematics for his love, Political Science for his power. Mathematics took him to logic and from there he fell into a digital circuit design class. This time, he found that the pure beautiful logic that he cherished so much, that Boolean algebra, could be applied to the design of circuitry. Pure mathematics expressed in the chemical plays of silicon and gold. It remained a hobby while he pursued his studies.
Any Political Science program was going to focus on the CCD and its relationship with the US. And in particular, on The Ascendancy Nikolai Brandon. This was the 3rd thing that changed his life. In Brandon, Marcus saw Sith principles in action. Those familiar with the Star Wars universe had the view that the Sith were merely stock bad guys gleefully stroking their beards as planets were destroyed. But in the quiet of his room, Marcus had spent hours meditating on what being Sith meant, on why it spoke to his soul. Freed of his body, his mind lighted over truths and axioms as pure and self-evident as those in Euclid. And the truth was just as elegant and beautiful. The world needed order. The world must be directed by those with the will to do so. And those with that vision must be willing to whatever it takes so that order prevails. At times, that might include doing what others called evil. But the real struggle was between order and chaos. Morality- good and evil- did not exist in such a paradigm. A Sith must be willing to rise above the common morality and judge themselves unique enough to create their own code of ethics. They had to grant themselves the license to do whatever it was they had to do, because they were called on to do what others could not. Indulgently permitting everything and keeping people free from the consequences- whether as individuals in risky behaviors, poor planning and wasteful spending, or as nations with the same equal but exponentially larger actions- was not a noble act, however it was clothed in the dress of morality. Society festered precisely because of that.
The Sith way, however, was the true way of salvation. It was the only way for true order to exist. Sith were fearless in their pursuit of that order. They did not sidestep emotion, but instead embraced it, felt the full spectrum of from joy to hate, from pleasure to pain as they carried out their indomitable will, drawing strength from the perfect and unapologetic merger of all aspects of their inner self. They were a universe unto themselves, needing no one. Those who died or were stepped on along the way were regrettable but necessary sacrifices for the greater good of all.
Marcus devoured Brandon's biography, as well as his books and speeches and anything else he had written. For Brandon fully governed using Sith principles and had been doing so for decades. Here was a man who had resurrected a nation and was bringing order to the world. It was a large job and there was still much to do. But in Brandon, Marcus felt a kinship that he hadn't felt with anyone. Andre remained his brother and Marcus still felt a residual bond of affection from their shared experiences. But at the same time, Marcus had moved past Andre. The world Andre lived in was too small. But in Brandon, Marcus saw a future. He began seeking a way to bend his course so that one day their lives would intersect. And perhaps- it something he imagined only when he let himself get carried away with plans for the future- Brandon would even take him on as apprentice. It amused him to think of it in Sith terms, though Brandon would never know.
He dropped his double major track and focused solely on political science from that moment on. Nothing was going to stop him and his rise. He still dabbled in math and digital design on the side. It was a form of meditation, when he wasn't actually meditating. Exploring equations and tracing logical designs soothed his heart. He inhaled political theory and history, diplomacy and strategy. Everything and anything that would aid him, he gave his all. His goal was the prestigious Ascendant Leadership Sigma Program (ALSP) internship offered by the CCD. It would be in that program that he'd try to find his opportunity to meet Brandon.
But his studies didn't just include academic exercises. He knew that he'd need to interact with people, to guide and manipulate them. He had to be genteel and accessible. He learned the arts of charm and flattery, self-effacement and guilelessness. He wore an easy manner about himself, ingratiating himself with teachers and students, practicing his skills whenever possible. He delighted in setting off arguments and effecting reconciliations, inflaming passions and convincing groups, all deftly handled often without people realizing what had happened. He found the same techniques worked with women and soon found his way into their hearts and into their beds. It wasn't that he sought companionship or needed them. But it was expected of him. He couldn't play the game of charm and manipulation and then not follow through or people would talk. And of course there were the base carnal delights. He was a man after all. And Sith enjoyed the totality of the human experience. But they were only games and tools to him.
Marcus final change happened when he was 21 years old. It came upon him suddenly. He had been walking in a parking lot of a grocery store when he passed by a van and saw a woman look around and then slap her child in the face. She was talking quietly but firmly to him, trying to vent her anger at the child without being noticed. The scene was so familiar to him that he could almost guess what had happened. The child had knocked something over or in some other way embarrassed the mother and she now was taking it out on him. Suddenly, Marcus was 7 years old again, Mamma Lawson smacking him in the car, all the while looking around periodically so as to not be seen. Marcus had cried and said it was an accident, but she didn't care. She just kept on. Marcus saw this woman and his heart went hot with anger. All that rage he'd kept bottled up inside churned and churned until his head was clouded with it. Unable to contain himself any longer, he walked up to the woman, eyes afire and quietly, voice hissing with rage, said “You need to die.” He felt like he was connect to this woman. Her eyes glazed at his words, her body still. Then, she left her still sniffling child in the car and walked to the edge of the lot and right into oncoming traffic. The truck that hit her had no chance.
Marcus stared at the scene in horrified awe. The little boy started bawling and people had come out to see what had happened. Marcus looked around in terror, looked up and saw the lot security cameras and realized that the whole thing had been recorded. Carefully, so as to not draw the eyes of others, he moved slowly to the other end of the lot and then was able to flee. But for days afterward he skipped his classes, terrified of police coming in to arrest him. Every ring of the doorbell sent a spear of fear into his heart as he waited to hear his name called. He was so worried, he fell sick, shivering and shaking. He was sick for days. What if they had seen him? Stupid stupid stupid. He was so stupid. He had to be calm, he had to be self-controlled. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew he was the cause and that he had to hide that fact.
Once the sickness had ended and fears had passed though, he noticed a curious sense of light whenever he did his meditations or work on math or circuits. It was just out of reach, but it called to him, glowing and beckoning him. And then one day, he seized that light and the universe opened herself up to him. He was flooded with power and felt like a god. His mind returned to the idea of the Sith. Could it be? Was this power the force? Ridiculous....And yet, there it was. Cautiously, he opened himself up to the force, allowed it to fill him. It fought him. Darth Plagueis' words came to mind, “The force tries to resist the callings of ravenous spirits; therefore it must be broken and made a beast of burden. It must be made to answer each one's will. The force cannot be treated deferentially.” Marcus exerted his will on the force, bent it to his mind, dominating it- he was a Sith Lord, it his servant- and it sprung into action. Different threads of force flowed out from his hands. He examined them and found they had flavors, found he could manipulate them.
He felt thrilled and elated. It seemed the universe was his. He knew he had been different his entire life. His sufferings had been merely training, preparing him for the role he was to play. He was a Sith lord and would have the courage and fortitude to do what others could not. He was beyond laws and morality. He would bring order to the world. He couldn't help but laugh out loud. Then he had an amusing idea. He needed a Sith name. He cast his mind about for something suitably ominous and portentous of his intentions. He would rule. Malik meant “king” in Arabic. Darth Malik. He liked that, though he put the emphasis on the first syllable, Mal. so that it worked with the Sith appellation Darth. From that time forward, he knew his true self to be Darth Malik.
He would still stay on course, now more than ever. Getting close to Brandon was all part of his eventual goal. And he was smart enough to know that he had still much to learn from the man. Just because Marcus had the force didn't mean he didn't still need to apprentice himself and learn. It just meant that he might be able to use the force to get his attention.
Another thing occurred to him. The woman who died. He didn't feel guilty about her at all. She had deserved it. And though he had been overwhelmed with shock and fear at the time, now a worm of pleasure stirred in his heart whenever he thought of what happened. He had made it happen, had removed an element of chaos from his world. Yes, it probably hadn't been necessary. But he accepted his failure as necessary and decided to be more careful. He was the master of this world, though only he and the force knew it. But he could start acting now, like the king he would someday be. And kings bring justice, they execute judgment. Marcus could think of many people who deserved judgment.
So Marcus' life took on an added element. Every so often, Marcus would pay a visit to someone from his past. Being older and looking the successful and charming college student that he was, many acted as if they were proud of him, as if they had some hand in his becoming the man he now presented to them. And in a way they were right. The cold rage would seize him, but he found that the force refused to come to him in those times. It irritated him to no end to have to go through Jedi relaxation techniques before the force would appear. Then he was free to seize it and dominate it, to teach it he was in charge. Mamma Lawson clutched at her throat, his hand outstretched. He imagined how he looked and smiled. Darth Malik smiled. Mr. VanPatten felt his heart squeezed. DeyShawn ran and was grabbed by air and dragged back where a pillow of air pressed on his face. Darth Malik was making sure that those who did not deserve to live in his world didn't. The world was his now.
Malik spent every evening communing with the power of the force, meditating and applying the same cold logic and methodology he'd learned from Euclid to this new power. Carefully he studied the flavors of the force, tested them alone and in combination, wrote down what he'd done, and made predictions. Gradually he worked out a rudimentary short-hand based on Knot Theory to describe the flavors of the force and their combination. This allowed him to manipulate them on paper in much the same manner as his much beloved Boolean algebra. He learned a lot. And whenever he went out on one of this executions he used what he learned.
He moved past simply taking petty vengeance. He didn't begrudge himself the right. But the world was bigger than that. He began to note news reports and stories of individuals who had escaped justice. And he dispensed it. A child rapist found with their genitals ripped off and stuffed in their mouth. A gang leader who's ordered drive-bys had killed 3 kids in the park found with burns across throat and limbs. A crack-addict who'd jumped an old woman in the park and bludgeoned her for her money discovered with his head twisted 180 degrees. It was Darth Malik's right to visit justice on those people.
When Malik was 22 a new truth manifested itself to him. Andre was also a force user. Malik was surprised but also appreciative to learn this truth early. Especially because they were brothers. It wouldn't do to be surprised by an enemy. Malik immediately began teaching Andre some of the things he knew. Nothing that would threaten him too much, of course, but enough that Malik could learn how to observe and deal with another force user. They even got into sparing sessions. During those times, Marcus felt the bond with his brother revive, and the work became something more. And then, Marcus would write down what he had learned, codifying weaves and techniques and Malik would assert himself. All the while hating the fact that to use the force, he first had to get into a specific Jedi frame of mind. It cost him time and dull the keen edge he liked when channeling. He despised the Jedi philosophy of indulgence and weakness.
That came to an end when Malik was out on one of his walks in their old neighborhood and noticed a man standing in the park. He knew him. Oh yes, he knew him. Farian Knowles. They had been foster-siblings in the home of Mr. Paretti. Farian had a cruel eye and was always picking on the smaller Marcus. Andre tried to defend him and Farian would hurt him too. But that wasn't the worst of it. Marcus' mind shied away from his thoughts. No! Malik thought. You are a Sith Lord. You will not cower from it. You will experience that fire and be remade.
His mind's eye went back. He's 8 years old. It's late at night. Farian's getting in his bed, wants to talk. At first he's scared- Farian was mean earlier that day- but soon he's laughing at his jokes and tickling. He wants to play a game. Marcus' mind shied away, but he forced himself to remember. It 's just a game. But then there's another game. And another. Each game is less fun, more uncomfortable. He doesn't like it. And then the game stops being a game. The tearing and the pain. He hurts. And now he's afraid. He doesn't want Mrs. Paretti finding the blood streaks in his shorts.
Darth Malik saw it all and felt the rage boil in him, the pure burning hatred. And here was Farian in a park with children. Darth Malik would submit to the force no longer. He was a Sith Lord. The force was his to command, not the other way around. He would not hide his deed. He was a Dark Lord of the Sith and he judged this man worthy of death. His heart burned with fire and suddenly he saw the fire of the force. Darth Malik seized the force, choked it into subservience, and walked to Farian.
Later that day, Farian was found in his apartment, fingers crushed, eyes and rectum burned, and genitals in his mouth. Surrounding the body were images of child porn. No one remembered Darth Malik leaving the apartment. No one had heard anything coming from Farian's room. It baffled police, though some of them were glad that there was one less child predator on the street.
From that moment forward, Darth Malik no longer yielded to Jedi meditation. He was a Dark Lord of the Sith and did as he pleased. He continued his studies and work, his meditations and experiments. He felt pleased to see goals reached and set others. He was deeply satisfied to learn that he had been accepted in the coveted Ascendant Leadership Sigma Program. His essays on the social contract in the field of governance and its flawed assumptions had impressed the arbiters of the program. He was leaving for Moscow, ready to begin the next stage of his life.
<small>((continued in Honored Guest))</small>
Edited by Marcus DuBois, Aug 27 2014, 04:16 PM.
Age: 23
Height: 5'10”
Weight: 175 pounds
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Build: Slender, muscular, runner's physique.
Marcus DuBois was born in 2022 in Chicago, IL, younger brother to Andre DuBois. His mother was a crack addict and his father had left before he was born. So Marcus had no memory of his father and the memory of his mother would always be vague. She was far to interested in supporting her habit to be any kind of mother to them. A stream of johns, addicts, pimps and dealers were in and out of their apartment constantly, and the boys learned, even at that young age, to stay out of sight and look out for each other. That place stopped being their home when Marcus was 3 and Andre 4. They found their mother passed out in the living room, drool dripping from her open mouth, teeth a ruin, pipe on the floor, and they couldn't wake her. After having been discovered by a police officer out on the street as they were trying to get help, Child Protective Services (CPS) took them. Their mother was ruled an unfit parent, the boys became wards of the state and were dumped in the foster care system.
Dumped was the right word. Chicago in the 2020's was collapsing in on itself. Jobs were scarce, crime was high, and the economy was in the toilet. The once minimally cared for projects became a sewer and finding good foster parents was difficult. The foster care system was staffed by skeleton crews, the state unable to afford more than the minimal amount of people. The Federal government tried to help, both with the program and also with paying those individuals willing to take in children, but the CPS was only rarely able to do home inspections and follow up.
The first home they were placed in belonged to a woman named Denice, a wiry older woman with stringy hair and a dirty home. From the start, there was always a potential for danger in their interactions with her. Any kind of situation with her could easily turn, almost instantly, into something terrifying. Their time there ended when Marcus was 4. Andre was away at school and Denice had made fried eggs for Marcus' breakfast. After Marcus finished, he innocently asked for another. She looked at him irritatedly but made another. When he finished, she asked if he wanted another. He had no idea why she asked him. Her voice seemed normal, but the look on her face was dangerous and said, Boy, you better say no. Marcus' didn't notice that look. So she made another one and he ate it. He was full. She asked again, pushing. Now he was afraid to say no. She made another one and made him eat that. And another. And another. By the end, he was crying, snot running down his nose, yoke crusted on his lips, as she yelled at him and stood over him, smelly breath in his face, making him eat it. Seven eggs went down. They did not stay down. He threw up and she hit him upside his head, knocking him to the ground. She shoved his face into the mess and then dragged him to the closet and locked him in there. Then she shoved a chair under the knob so he couldn't get out. It was dark and Marcus was scared and sick and cried. He threw up again. Then he pounded on the door and begged to get out, promised to be good. Denice turned up the TV to drown him out. Hours passed. But on this occasion, their case worker happened to come by on an unscheduled visit. She found Denice half asleep on the couch and Marcus in the closet, covered with vomited egg. Andre came home from school to find their things packed and CPS ready to take them away.
So it went for the next 10 years. They were in placed with families, just the two of them, as well as in group homes. One home was run by strict religious disciplinarians who believed “spare the rod, spoil the child.” Any infraction brought immediate and swift punishment as well as hours of reading the Bible and praying. When he was 6, after spilling the milk while making cereal, Marcus spent two days in a dog cage with a bowl of water and dog food. But he learned to be neat and not make messes. Another time he was being punished- they wouldn't let him eat anything- so Andre tried to secretly give him some of his food. When Mr. VanPatton caught him, he filled the sink with water and held his head down in it while screaming about obedience. Marcus couldn't do anything to stop it.And in some of their homes, their foster-siblings were the abusers, using the cover of night to vent their anger and proclivities. Sometimes it was bullying and cruelty. Other times it was sneaking into his bed for darker deeds.
Through it all, Marcus and Andre survived, helping each other, warning of moods and threats. But Marcus grew dark with anger at the world he was in, the chaos and system that allowed these things to happen. His only escape was a tattered collection of old sci-fi novels he had found. There, Marcus lost himself in those worlds. Fighting battles, winning against enemies, bringing order to the world, mattering to the universe. His favorites were Star Wars novels, continuing the stories on past episode 9 and the TV show. It was a universe Marcus longed to live in, to have the power to bring order to his life, to protect himself. But Marcus found himself increasingly echoing the sentiments of the antagonists like Darth Bane, Darth Sidious and Darth Plagueis as they explained their philosophy of order, power and domination. It was when he read the Code of the Sith that it crystallized for him.
Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me.
He didn't tell Andre, but the day he read that was one of the days his life changed. From that moment on, that was his credo. He didn't have the force. But he didn't need it. This was his path to freedom. And the power to control his universe. They continued to pass through foster care home after home and it became a mantra that followed him through it all.
Another discovery that set his path came when he was 14. By then, they had been placed with a man and woman who seemed decent enough. But they always did at first. Marcus didn't trust them. It irritated him that Andre did. He was so naïve. Had he learned nothing? Sure, so far things had been pretty calm, for once in their lives. But Marcus was on guard anyway. He didn't trust it.
But on one fateful day lying on his bed, Marcus, who had just began studying geometry, found Euclid. And Marcus fell in love. He had never seen anything so pure and true. Chaos and uncertainty fled before Euclid's mighty pen, leaving a world that was pristine and exquisitely beautiful. Marcus marveled at Euclid's use of 5 self-evident truths and just a few propositions as the foundation and tools to build this edifice that was the study of shapes. With those tools, Marcus saw things proved, beyond any shadow of doubt or need for context or extenuating circumstance. It was pure holy logic and it was Truth. And Marcus embraced it, embraced the method of thinking it created, the willingness to reduce things and ideas and thoughts into their components and then systematically assemble them into structures that stood on their own.
And for once, Andre was right. The home turned out to be good place. But for Marcus, it was now just a place for him to pass his time. His life was his study, his philosophy. He never warmed to them and even grew distant with Andre. Instead, Marcus focused on his goals. He wanted control. He wanted order. He wanted purity and logic to exist in the outside world, not just the Platonic ideal. He finished school at 16 and received a scholarship to a university. He double majored, Mathematics for his love, Political Science for his power. Mathematics took him to logic and from there he fell into a digital circuit design class. This time, he found that the pure beautiful logic that he cherished so much, that Boolean algebra, could be applied to the design of circuitry. Pure mathematics expressed in the chemical plays of silicon and gold. It remained a hobby while he pursued his studies.
Any Political Science program was going to focus on the CCD and its relationship with the US. And in particular, on The Ascendancy Nikolai Brandon. This was the 3rd thing that changed his life. In Brandon, Marcus saw Sith principles in action. Those familiar with the Star Wars universe had the view that the Sith were merely stock bad guys gleefully stroking their beards as planets were destroyed. But in the quiet of his room, Marcus had spent hours meditating on what being Sith meant, on why it spoke to his soul. Freed of his body, his mind lighted over truths and axioms as pure and self-evident as those in Euclid. And the truth was just as elegant and beautiful. The world needed order. The world must be directed by those with the will to do so. And those with that vision must be willing to whatever it takes so that order prevails. At times, that might include doing what others called evil. But the real struggle was between order and chaos. Morality- good and evil- did not exist in such a paradigm. A Sith must be willing to rise above the common morality and judge themselves unique enough to create their own code of ethics. They had to grant themselves the license to do whatever it was they had to do, because they were called on to do what others could not. Indulgently permitting everything and keeping people free from the consequences- whether as individuals in risky behaviors, poor planning and wasteful spending, or as nations with the same equal but exponentially larger actions- was not a noble act, however it was clothed in the dress of morality. Society festered precisely because of that.
The Sith way, however, was the true way of salvation. It was the only way for true order to exist. Sith were fearless in their pursuit of that order. They did not sidestep emotion, but instead embraced it, felt the full spectrum of from joy to hate, from pleasure to pain as they carried out their indomitable will, drawing strength from the perfect and unapologetic merger of all aspects of their inner self. They were a universe unto themselves, needing no one. Those who died or were stepped on along the way were regrettable but necessary sacrifices for the greater good of all.
Marcus devoured Brandon's biography, as well as his books and speeches and anything else he had written. For Brandon fully governed using Sith principles and had been doing so for decades. Here was a man who had resurrected a nation and was bringing order to the world. It was a large job and there was still much to do. But in Brandon, Marcus felt a kinship that he hadn't felt with anyone. Andre remained his brother and Marcus still felt a residual bond of affection from their shared experiences. But at the same time, Marcus had moved past Andre. The world Andre lived in was too small. But in Brandon, Marcus saw a future. He began seeking a way to bend his course so that one day their lives would intersect. And perhaps- it something he imagined only when he let himself get carried away with plans for the future- Brandon would even take him on as apprentice. It amused him to think of it in Sith terms, though Brandon would never know.
He dropped his double major track and focused solely on political science from that moment on. Nothing was going to stop him and his rise. He still dabbled in math and digital design on the side. It was a form of meditation, when he wasn't actually meditating. Exploring equations and tracing logical designs soothed his heart. He inhaled political theory and history, diplomacy and strategy. Everything and anything that would aid him, he gave his all. His goal was the prestigious Ascendant Leadership Sigma Program (ALSP) internship offered by the CCD. It would be in that program that he'd try to find his opportunity to meet Brandon.
But his studies didn't just include academic exercises. He knew that he'd need to interact with people, to guide and manipulate them. He had to be genteel and accessible. He learned the arts of charm and flattery, self-effacement and guilelessness. He wore an easy manner about himself, ingratiating himself with teachers and students, practicing his skills whenever possible. He delighted in setting off arguments and effecting reconciliations, inflaming passions and convincing groups, all deftly handled often without people realizing what had happened. He found the same techniques worked with women and soon found his way into their hearts and into their beds. It wasn't that he sought companionship or needed them. But it was expected of him. He couldn't play the game of charm and manipulation and then not follow through or people would talk. And of course there were the base carnal delights. He was a man after all. And Sith enjoyed the totality of the human experience. But they were only games and tools to him.
Marcus final change happened when he was 21 years old. It came upon him suddenly. He had been walking in a parking lot of a grocery store when he passed by a van and saw a woman look around and then slap her child in the face. She was talking quietly but firmly to him, trying to vent her anger at the child without being noticed. The scene was so familiar to him that he could almost guess what had happened. The child had knocked something over or in some other way embarrassed the mother and she now was taking it out on him. Suddenly, Marcus was 7 years old again, Mamma Lawson smacking him in the car, all the while looking around periodically so as to not be seen. Marcus had cried and said it was an accident, but she didn't care. She just kept on. Marcus saw this woman and his heart went hot with anger. All that rage he'd kept bottled up inside churned and churned until his head was clouded with it. Unable to contain himself any longer, he walked up to the woman, eyes afire and quietly, voice hissing with rage, said “You need to die.” He felt like he was connect to this woman. Her eyes glazed at his words, her body still. Then, she left her still sniffling child in the car and walked to the edge of the lot and right into oncoming traffic. The truck that hit her had no chance.
Marcus stared at the scene in horrified awe. The little boy started bawling and people had come out to see what had happened. Marcus looked around in terror, looked up and saw the lot security cameras and realized that the whole thing had been recorded. Carefully, so as to not draw the eyes of others, he moved slowly to the other end of the lot and then was able to flee. But for days afterward he skipped his classes, terrified of police coming in to arrest him. Every ring of the doorbell sent a spear of fear into his heart as he waited to hear his name called. He was so worried, he fell sick, shivering and shaking. He was sick for days. What if they had seen him? Stupid stupid stupid. He was so stupid. He had to be calm, he had to be self-controlled. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew he was the cause and that he had to hide that fact.
Once the sickness had ended and fears had passed though, he noticed a curious sense of light whenever he did his meditations or work on math or circuits. It was just out of reach, but it called to him, glowing and beckoning him. And then one day, he seized that light and the universe opened herself up to him. He was flooded with power and felt like a god. His mind returned to the idea of the Sith. Could it be? Was this power the force? Ridiculous....And yet, there it was. Cautiously, he opened himself up to the force, allowed it to fill him. It fought him. Darth Plagueis' words came to mind, “The force tries to resist the callings of ravenous spirits; therefore it must be broken and made a beast of burden. It must be made to answer each one's will. The force cannot be treated deferentially.” Marcus exerted his will on the force, bent it to his mind, dominating it- he was a Sith Lord, it his servant- and it sprung into action. Different threads of force flowed out from his hands. He examined them and found they had flavors, found he could manipulate them.
He felt thrilled and elated. It seemed the universe was his. He knew he had been different his entire life. His sufferings had been merely training, preparing him for the role he was to play. He was a Sith lord and would have the courage and fortitude to do what others could not. He was beyond laws and morality. He would bring order to the world. He couldn't help but laugh out loud. Then he had an amusing idea. He needed a Sith name. He cast his mind about for something suitably ominous and portentous of his intentions. He would rule. Malik meant “king” in Arabic. Darth Malik. He liked that, though he put the emphasis on the first syllable, Mal. so that it worked with the Sith appellation Darth. From that time forward, he knew his true self to be Darth Malik.
He would still stay on course, now more than ever. Getting close to Brandon was all part of his eventual goal. And he was smart enough to know that he had still much to learn from the man. Just because Marcus had the force didn't mean he didn't still need to apprentice himself and learn. It just meant that he might be able to use the force to get his attention.
Another thing occurred to him. The woman who died. He didn't feel guilty about her at all. She had deserved it. And though he had been overwhelmed with shock and fear at the time, now a worm of pleasure stirred in his heart whenever he thought of what happened. He had made it happen, had removed an element of chaos from his world. Yes, it probably hadn't been necessary. But he accepted his failure as necessary and decided to be more careful. He was the master of this world, though only he and the force knew it. But he could start acting now, like the king he would someday be. And kings bring justice, they execute judgment. Marcus could think of many people who deserved judgment.
So Marcus' life took on an added element. Every so often, Marcus would pay a visit to someone from his past. Being older and looking the successful and charming college student that he was, many acted as if they were proud of him, as if they had some hand in his becoming the man he now presented to them. And in a way they were right. The cold rage would seize him, but he found that the force refused to come to him in those times. It irritated him to no end to have to go through Jedi relaxation techniques before the force would appear. Then he was free to seize it and dominate it, to teach it he was in charge. Mamma Lawson clutched at her throat, his hand outstretched. He imagined how he looked and smiled. Darth Malik smiled. Mr. VanPatten felt his heart squeezed. DeyShawn ran and was grabbed by air and dragged back where a pillow of air pressed on his face. Darth Malik was making sure that those who did not deserve to live in his world didn't. The world was his now.
Malik spent every evening communing with the power of the force, meditating and applying the same cold logic and methodology he'd learned from Euclid to this new power. Carefully he studied the flavors of the force, tested them alone and in combination, wrote down what he'd done, and made predictions. Gradually he worked out a rudimentary short-hand based on Knot Theory to describe the flavors of the force and their combination. This allowed him to manipulate them on paper in much the same manner as his much beloved Boolean algebra. He learned a lot. And whenever he went out on one of this executions he used what he learned.
He moved past simply taking petty vengeance. He didn't begrudge himself the right. But the world was bigger than that. He began to note news reports and stories of individuals who had escaped justice. And he dispensed it. A child rapist found with their genitals ripped off and stuffed in their mouth. A gang leader who's ordered drive-bys had killed 3 kids in the park found with burns across throat and limbs. A crack-addict who'd jumped an old woman in the park and bludgeoned her for her money discovered with his head twisted 180 degrees. It was Darth Malik's right to visit justice on those people.
When Malik was 22 a new truth manifested itself to him. Andre was also a force user. Malik was surprised but also appreciative to learn this truth early. Especially because they were brothers. It wouldn't do to be surprised by an enemy. Malik immediately began teaching Andre some of the things he knew. Nothing that would threaten him too much, of course, but enough that Malik could learn how to observe and deal with another force user. They even got into sparing sessions. During those times, Marcus felt the bond with his brother revive, and the work became something more. And then, Marcus would write down what he had learned, codifying weaves and techniques and Malik would assert himself. All the while hating the fact that to use the force, he first had to get into a specific Jedi frame of mind. It cost him time and dull the keen edge he liked when channeling. He despised the Jedi philosophy of indulgence and weakness.
That came to an end when Malik was out on one of his walks in their old neighborhood and noticed a man standing in the park. He knew him. Oh yes, he knew him. Farian Knowles. They had been foster-siblings in the home of Mr. Paretti. Farian had a cruel eye and was always picking on the smaller Marcus. Andre tried to defend him and Farian would hurt him too. But that wasn't the worst of it. Marcus' mind shied away from his thoughts. No! Malik thought. You are a Sith Lord. You will not cower from it. You will experience that fire and be remade.
His mind's eye went back. He's 8 years old. It's late at night. Farian's getting in his bed, wants to talk. At first he's scared- Farian was mean earlier that day- but soon he's laughing at his jokes and tickling. He wants to play a game. Marcus' mind shied away, but he forced himself to remember. It 's just a game. But then there's another game. And another. Each game is less fun, more uncomfortable. He doesn't like it. And then the game stops being a game. The tearing and the pain. He hurts. And now he's afraid. He doesn't want Mrs. Paretti finding the blood streaks in his shorts.
Darth Malik saw it all and felt the rage boil in him, the pure burning hatred. And here was Farian in a park with children. Darth Malik would submit to the force no longer. He was a Sith Lord. The force was his to command, not the other way around. He would not hide his deed. He was a Dark Lord of the Sith and he judged this man worthy of death. His heart burned with fire and suddenly he saw the fire of the force. Darth Malik seized the force, choked it into subservience, and walked to Farian.
Later that day, Farian was found in his apartment, fingers crushed, eyes and rectum burned, and genitals in his mouth. Surrounding the body were images of child porn. No one remembered Darth Malik leaving the apartment. No one had heard anything coming from Farian's room. It baffled police, though some of them were glad that there was one less child predator on the street.
From that moment forward, Darth Malik no longer yielded to Jedi meditation. He was a Dark Lord of the Sith and did as he pleased. He continued his studies and work, his meditations and experiments. He felt pleased to see goals reached and set others. He was deeply satisfied to learn that he had been accepted in the coveted Ascendant Leadership Sigma Program. His essays on the social contract in the field of governance and its flawed assumptions had impressed the arbiters of the program. He was leaving for Moscow, ready to begin the next stage of his life.
<small>((continued in Honored Guest))</small>
Edited by Marcus DuBois, Aug 27 2014, 04:16 PM.