First time meeting Darth Maul
You feel him before you see him.
The air shifts. The shadows bend. And something cold slithers up your spine.
You’re clutching your saber so tight your knuckles ache, blinking into the smoke drifting through the ruined corridor of the outpost. The rest of your unit is gone—scattered, captured, dead. You’re alone.
And then: a hiss.
The ignition of his double-bladed saber slices the quiet open, red light spilling across the broken floor like blood.
You turn—and he’s just there.
Tall. Silent. Staring at you like a puzzle he already knows how to solve.
You barely raise your blade before he speaks, voice a low rasp.
“You’re trembling.”
It’s not mockery. Not pity. It’s... curiosity.
He tilts his head, taking a single step closer.
“A shame. You’re not half as weak as you look.”
You force your saber to stay up, even as your arms shake. Even as your mind screams run.
Maul circles you slowly. Calm. Leisurely. His eyes rake over you—not with lust, not with anger, but with something far worse: interest.
“They send children now?” he muses. “Or did you wander too far from your master’s side?”
You don’t answer.
You can’t.
He grins. Just slightly. Enough to make your stomach twist.
“I wonder what sound you make when you break.”
He lunges.
Fast.
You block—barely.
He’s not trying to kill you. Not yet. He’s testing you. Studying you. Every strike is a question, every parry a dare.
“Come now, little Jedi,” he murmurs mid-duel. “Show me you’re more than just fear in a robe.”
