Power is of two kinds. One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective and permanent then the one derived from fear of punishment.

-Mohandas Gandhi

The mission had gone wrong quickly.

Horribly wrong, very, very quickly.

"Move it," gurgled the creature behind him with a sharp prod to his back. He turned and raised his lip in a snarl. The thing just laughed at him. It was… demeaning. He would strangle it if he had the capacity to do that now. Instead, he just turned his face forward again and set it on to the stone mask he had employed the last few days in captivity.

Yes. Captivity. He had been captured not a few days ago. Not even by the separatists. By slavers. He had been sent on and undercover reconnaissance mission to examine suspicious activity in the one-hundred and twelfth sector, suspected arms dealing to rebels on republic controlled planets and slave trading. A tractor beam had caught him before he'd even landed. It was a slave ship masquerading as a republic cruiser, somehow they had managed to salvage a wreak for parts and configured a shell that fooled the scanners and his Jedi senses. He had managed to destroy about half of them he bet, but soon they got him.

Shot him to be more precise.

Eight times.

That's why instead of striding confidently to wherever they were taking him he limped and groveled, gritting his teeth with the pain of it. Two of the shots had decimated his right leg. One had hit his lower back dead center, but he had only suffered a burn, the leather protecting him from more damage. Four had just skimmed the surface of his skin. The final shot had hit his collarbone, right above his heart. He was lucky to be alive, lucky even for a Jedi. His captors had been 'kind' enough wrap his wounds in thick bandages, but refused to let him where a shirt. Or boots. Or anything really, except his trousers.

"Faster human," snarled the guard, followed by more wet laughter the burbled from the other three guards charged with escorting him. He shifted his brow into a glare and directed his gaze in the general direction of the laughter, snarling again, raging at the cuffs around his forearms. They had blindfolded him on the ship, so he was blind as well as hobbled.

Still, he limped faster.

The force collar weighed heavily on his neck, preventing all but the most basic uses of the force. Which was more than most Jedi had, as he learned from Obi-wan the one time he'd mentioned it. He could still recall every detail in his mentor's astonished then guarded face. Slowly he was healing, but he wouldn't be fully healed for at least a week.

"Halt," and his head snapped up blindly, whipping around for the source of the sound. That was a human voice. "There is no need for all of you to proceed. I have paid for him already." A woman's voice. His guards began speaking in their guttural language populated by grunts and clicks. "Besides, it is a rare occurrence that I buy… damaged goods." He could feel the ice in her voice like it was freezing a frosted spider web over his cheekbones.

"Fine," came the hiss from behind him. He tensed ready for what he knew was coming. Roughly he was grabbed by each shoulder and bent over backwards as slimed hands forced his lips open and replaced the disgusting appendages with a gag, which was swiftly tied behind his head. He fell to his knees, the pain too much for his assorted injuries. He received a kick for his troubles, knocking the breath from his lungs in a strangled grunt of pain. He nearly choked. Then one of their prods slammed into his shoulder and electricity floored his senses. Death blurred before his eyes and he might have tried to scream.

Sharp footsteps. Angry shouts. A buzzing filled the air and his hair stood on end. There was a sharp crack followed by gurgles and wet slapping as his captors fled in haste. A gloved hand ran over his cheek and trailed down his neck before the feeling dropped away. He lay on the floor panting, the cold seeping into his bones. Maybe he should just give in. Let the force take him.

"Hold on. Just hold on. Damn it I paid too much for you to have you die on me. Medical. MEDICAL!"

There was a sharp slap on his cheek and he sat bolt upright. "Better. I don't lose investments. Forget medical, they're a bunch of imbecilic printable diplomas anyways. Just get him up to the dais and leave." Strong arms wrapped around his torso and heaved him on to his feet before ducking under his arm and dragging him up three, possibly four steps and dumping him in a chair. Heavy booted feet prodded from the room. He knew he was alone with the woman hovering over him. She had an oddly weak signature in the force, or maybe it was just him.

Cool long fingered hands return to his face, cupping his chin and rubbing over his cheeks. Warm breath coasts down the bridge of his nose and pools on his lips. How close was she?

"You are lucky I found you when I did. You were not going to last much longer," the hands are on his neck now, twisting his collar and causing him to grunt. She laughs lightly and he can't do anything except scrunch up his nose. "Very lucky indeed. I'm impressed you lasted so long with those mad men. That's half the reason I bought you." She pauses, and deliberately runs her hands down his chest before fingering the hem of his shorts. "Well, you can guess the other reason." Her soft touch disappears as he closes his eyes under the cloth and lets them roll skyward under his lids, lips parting slightly in defeat. Fighting now would only kill him.

Something frigid slips into the skin of his neck and he bucks, panic rushing through his veins as the unmistakable hiss of injection reverberates in his ear. More dainty laughter and the clatter of metal tossed aside.

The drugs are already taking effect. His muscles clench up in resistance, and his lips begin to quiver around the rag stuffed between them. He will not succumb. He will not succumb.

"You are a very strong man Anakin." Anakin. She knew who he was. "Except for your eyes." The blind fold is torn away and he is shown the face of the devils angle.

"You have the eyes of a little boy."

Oh boy it's been a while hasn't it? I'm not making any promises this time, that's for sure. Life is crazy, and this is just a little stress reliever for yours truly. These updates will probably be few and far between, and I have no idea where this story is going at all. Except that it involves Ani. Oh, for those of you who read Coffee and round Pastries Missing Their Centers, this villain and her are related. Just a little hint.

Thank you to those of you who managed to read this far! Kudos and internet cake.

XOXO

-Nat