Anakin the Homicidal Maniac
A strange parody by JadedFire
Disclaimer: I don't own anything belonging to George Lucas or in that same regard of anything pertaining to the work of Jhonen Vasquez.
Note: Luke is about five or six here. Or whatever age you think Squee was from JTHM. Also, this is first SW story in a long time that has nothing to do with Thrawn.
Little Luke Skywalker stared up at the ceiling, holding the blankets closer to his nose, his little body twitching from nightmares that normally assaulted his sleep. His stuffed Ewok—Pooky—was tucked in the nook of his small arm.
Something was in the igloo house thing…
Luke bolted from bed, tossing the covers off. In the process, due to his strong imagination, he thought he heard Pooky say there was something prowling around the house.
Luke big blue eyes grew even larger from fright. He sucked in his breath and ran as fast as he could to his aunt's room. She was laying across the bed, her legs dangling down. She was humming, "I have a Gungan in the oven!" under her breath. She was high on spice.
"Aunt Beru! I heard a noise!" Luke blurted out in a quavering voice.
There was a pause in the humming, a disgruntled sigh, and then: "Auntie's ignoring you sweetie!"
She really was ignoring him. In fact, she turned over in the bed to prove her point.
"Go bother your uncle. He's looking over this years annual crop report thingy," she continued.
Luke nodded, held Pooky tighter, and said, "Don't worry, Pooky. Uncle will help us!" His big eyes were looking pleadingly upwards as though making a plea for whatever supreme being up there to help him.
CRASH!
His heart skipped a beat. He spared no time in running to Uncle Owen's annual crop report room. The room that was behind heavy metal doors.
A little droid with large blue optical sensors suddenly intercepted his course, saying, "I'm a taco!" at the top of his lungs.
"Shhh! Quiet, Jeewonar!" Luke whispered. He lowered his voice even more to add,"The things will get you."
"Ooooh. I LIKE THINGS!"
Luke decided to ignore the little droid. After all, no one had noticed Jeewonar before so why should they now?
Luke pressed a few buttons on the panel to the side of the double metal doors. He waited patiently as they whooshed ponderously open.
His uncle, clad in a white labcoat, seated in an office chair with his back toward him, and his hair was gelled into a double scythe shape. He was working on some sort of agricultural experiment.
"Uncle Owen, I'm scared! I heard noises"… Luke trailed off as he realized his uncle, like his aunt, wasn't going to help him.
Owen's black gloved hand clenched to form a tight fist.
"I'm busy right now, Luke. I've been busy with crops trying to keep us all alive—trying to keep you alive—since the day you came into our lives. And I want you to know that I haven't smiled once since then. Now go back to bed!"
Luke wasn't about to give up. His little voice became even more heartwrenchingly pleading.
"But I can't! I feel as though somethings in the house—It's scary! Pooky says he hears sounds!"
"I'm tired now. Being here in the same room with you has made me tired. I haven't had a lot of rest either since you came by a miracle. Tomorrow do double on your shores, Luke."
Luke knew he couldn't win and walked dejectedly off. He looked down at Pooky as he walked, gaining courage by looking into those warm brown eyes.
"Let's go back to my room, Pooky. We'll hide under the blankets and maybe fall asleep before we die."
Luke's little heart quavered at the thought of death. He envisioned all sorts of aliens turning him into a bloody pulp in his bed, or of that swoop gang of Jabba that from time flew nearby capturing him.
"Here we are, Pook—GYAH!"
Luke stopped in a gasp. Something large had broken up the mansized spooky ventilation ducts. Something with vere, very sharp claws.
"Auntie," he squeaked.
CRASH! KLINK! CRUNCH!
Little Skywalker's skin grew cold from chills.
"The 'fresher, Pooky," he whispered to the ewok, "There's something in the 'fresher! We've gotta be brave, Pooky. Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru are in trouble. Huh?" Luke stopped and paused as though listening intently to the imaginary voice of his stuffed toy.
He smiled nervously.
"What's that, Pooky? They were kidding when they told me they wanted me to be a slave at Jabba's palace. Huh? Oh, no. Slicing people up with a lightsabre is wrong. Honestly. They love"—
Another resounding crash from the 'fresher interrupted poor little Luke's words.
Luke stole himself, made up his mind to be brave (drawing unkowingly upon an invisible power source), and opened the door. Just in time to see another bottle crash to the ground and splinter into many shards.
"WHERE THE FORCE IS THE BACTA!" a voice bellowed out from the lungs of a very thin man wearing tight black clothing, a lightsabre hooked to his utility belt. He looked partially singed, like he had come out of an oven halfbaked, and some tufts of blonde hair were sticking out from his otherwise bare scalp. There was patches of fried to very fresh blood on his jacket, vest, and some nicks at the side of his face.
The man, noticing that he had a visitor, turned around cautiously as though suddenly realizing the loud noise he had been making.
"Hello," he said in a crisp, calm, very civilized voice. "I am Anakin," he introduced himself, "but you may call me Ni for short. And who are you?"
It took Luke a handful of seconds to get his voice back. The sound that came out was the sound he made when scared: Meep.
"'Meep', hm?" Ni said thoughtfuly. Then he straightened his back and continued searching for the bacta. "Well, okay. I don't mean to be rude or imposing, but where do you keep the bacta? You see," and he pointed at the little nicks in his face, "some of this blood is mine."
Luke, terrified for his life and shaking like a leaf, handed him the bacta from its proper compartment.
Ni took it gratefully, snatching it out of Luke's fingers.
"Thank you." He proceeded to dump the contents on his head. "The last one Master sent me to kill put up a struggle like a wolvkil on spice. Nothing quite brings out the zest in a person than the thought of being hacked to pieces by my lightsabre." He unclipped the lightsabre and a mad glint came to his eyes as he gave Luke a sideways glance. "I see from the looks of you that you understand."
Luke's little chin quavered, sure that the man was going to hack him to pieces right then and there.
But Ni instead had his attention on Pooky, who had been strewn on the floor from the owner's shock and horror.
"Hey, what's your friend here?" the dangerous man asked, his tone more sane and like that of an adult to a child.
Luke hoped the change in attitude would remain. His mouth unglued itself in hope, and he said, "That's Pooky."
Ni picked up the little stuffed ewok in his bony, burnt up hands and proceeded to talk to it as a little child would:
"Well, hello there, Pooky! I am Ni. Hmm? What?"
Luke giggled, but abruptly the childish pleasantries ended with: "You speak lies! LIEEEEEEEES!"
In a fit of rage Ni ignited his searing red-hot lightsabre blade with a snap-hiss and began to slice and dice the poor stuffed alien.
Luke looked on in horror. It seemed the expression of fear and dejectedness never left his face.
Ni gradually got hold of himself and handed Luke back his one source of comfort in a comfortless, merciless universe, in pieces. The man cleared his throat, and his glassy blue, power hungry eyes filled with something akin to regret.
He turned around to leave, shutting down his lightsabre and hooking it back to his belt.
"It's getting late. Yeah. Yeah, it's getting late. I'm going to go now. Go walk me out," he said, burnt fingers slipping into his pockets. For a moment he appeared as dejected as Luke.
Luke obediently followed him to the ventilation duct where Ni had broken into his uncle's dwelling.
Ni looked at the mess of blackened, twisted pieces of metal grating, sighed, then said to the young boy in a patronizing voice, "Sorry about the vent. I noticed it was locked. I don't suggest you ever lock it again. Well…later, and thanks for the bacta. It's been quite nice talking. But I've gotta go. Master would be upset if I came up missing again."
Master? Luke wondered at what type of hardened, cruel monster had sent Ni to murder.
Ni perched inside the vent and made ready to clamber up the brown tunnel, when he turned around and stared straight into Luke's eyes, his burnscarred face breaking out into a wide, maniacal grin.
"But, we'll have plenty of time for a visit. After all," here his eyes became even more crazed with power and the need to kill, "I'm your father."
The End