Star Wars: Scars

Part 3- 3

One assassin against about ten medics truly wasn't a fair fight, but it was over quickly and Creed bolted for the hallway. The voices were partially satiated by the amount of bloodshed, but still whispering violently. They didn't know where to go, though, and neither did Creed. He just knew he had to get out.

He turned the corner and headed down one of the side halls, his vision starting to blur with pain. The cast on his neck had come loose during the fight and he'd taken it off, and he'd accidentally broken off the cast that was supposed to be supporting. There was still one cast for his ankle, but it didn't stop the shooting pain that came with every footfall. Every movement, every breath was painful, but he pressed forward. He didn't want to die, and he knew how to push through the pain. He'd made it this part, he wasn't going to give up now.

Chaos.

The sudden thought brought him almost immediately to a halt. Where the thought had come from, he wasn't sure, but he stopped dead in his tracks and looked around. He couldn't leave Chaos. He couldn't leave his brother. He'd have to find him and bring him with.

But where was he?

Creed's eyes scanned the halls as he tried to make sense of it all. His head was spinning, but there appeared to be about three halls, well lit. He didn't know what time of day it was, but he assumed that it was a good bet Chaos was training or in the mess hall.

Where are the training rooms? He thought, his gaze skipping around. There was a long pause before Skate stepped forward, gesturing down the left hallway with his decayed hands. He watched Creed with hollow eyes as Creed turned and followed the mental ghost's directions and bolted down the hall.

He didn't run nearly as fast, trying to keep himself from passing out and making sure he could see where he was going. He caught sight of the doors and squinted to try and make out where he was. Everything was so confusing, and the light was giving him a headache. His body was screaming at him in pain, but he kept moving. He wasn't giving up on his brother. He was getting out of here and he wasn't leaving Chaos.

He made it down a few more doorways before he recognized the entrance to one of the training rooms and he keyed the door, grabbing the wall for support as he gasped. As the door opened he looked inside to see the room was dark, all the lights off. Creed frowned. They didn't turn off the training room lights unless it was nighttime.

Was it already that late in the day?

Everything was a jumble in his head, and he was struggling to keep up. It had to be late since the lights were out, which meant Chaos was more likely in his barracks. But where was that?

Creed turned, still gripping the wall some. He closed his eyes a moment, a sharp stabbing pain calling attention to the dizzying migraine that was pounding in his skull. He staggered, putting a hand to his head and groaning softly.

Ignore it. Keep moving, Specter urged him, soon joined by Dawn and Tadem. Their voices made the migraine worse, adding to the throbbing in his head, but he had to listen to them or else they would never quit.

So he kept going, forcing his eyes open as he pressed onward down the hall. He had to find Chaos barracks if it meant checking all of Kamino.

Just keep moving, the voices continued to urge, quieter now. Creed listened to them and started off a little quicker. He knew where his old barracks were, and if he remembered right, Chaos' hadn't been far from there. He just had to make sure he didn't alert anyone to his presence or else he was convinced they'd try to kill him. They wanted him dead, all of them.

Don't let them get you. They'll kill you. They're all like Dunn. They hate you.

The voices were right, at least Creed assumed so. They were rarely wrong, so why shouldn't he trust them?