AN: Freeze! Welcome, good people. This is a sequel to the story From Grace, I Fall. Like the first one, this deals with my continued obsession with Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi, because let's just face it, he'd be a bloody perfect Sith. This whole thing is going to be dealing with him after he fell, taking place in the years just before and during the Clone Wars. If you haven't read the first one, I'm pretty sure you can still enjoy this story, if you can just flat out accept that Obi can be Sith. If you're one of those, please enjoy!

However, if you're like me and you can't just accept huge canon divergences without an explanation, then go read From Grace, I Fall, which goes into great and extensive detail on how the perfect Jedi fell to the Dark Side. And if you're one of the ones that's following this mess from the beginning, then welcome back! We're gonna have some fun with this one! Also, if you haven't noticed, I changed my user name in an attempt to consolidate my accounts, but you probably figured that out by now. Ok, bookkeeping out of the way, it's go time!

Chapter 1: The Negotiator

Nar Shaddaa, like Coruscant, was a massive, sprawling city that encompassed the entire world. From the moon's surface to deep below, built into large pits dug into the hollowed-out crust of the world, the city was home to billions and billions of people from hundreds of different species. Day and night, the moon crawled with life as millions of ships and speeders took to the air, the streets crowded with activity from businesses and bars. No matter the time, the world was always alive and buzzing with activity.

Unlike Coruscant, however, Nar Shaddaa was a festering pit of crime and villainy, filthy and infested with pollution and violence, and despite this, it remained an important trading center in Hutt Space. As Nal Hutta's largest moon, Nar Shaddaa was predominantly ruled by the Hutt Cartel, though bounty hunters and crime syndicates ran unchecked through the city. The Hutts allowed it. The presence of several different crime factions on the moon made the retrieval of important information very easy. Crime bosses set up palaces on the surface of the moon, massive, elaborate buildings that stood in stark contrast to the slums they rose out of, protected by the forces of their gangs and mercenaries from bounty hunters that invariably had contracts out on the crime lords.

In one palace, a large, chrome tower that rose out of the lower levels of the Corellian Sector, a human crime lord sat at the head of a large table in a massive, ornate chair that could almost be considered a throne. He leaned against his hand, his elbow planted on the table as he listened to his officers discuss the movements of rival crime syndicates, bounty hunters that were taking out their allies, their own assassins who were killing their rivals, the shipment of illegal arms to the far reaches of the galaxy, how best to avoid the mounting Separatist Crisis. War could be very bad for business, and mounting tensions in the Galactic Senate seemed to indicate that things were heading in that direction.

The crime boss looked up when the large doors to the room were opened, and the officers in the room quickly stood, drawing their weapons and pointing them toward the door. He had expressly forbid anyone to enter, but a hooded man slowly strode in, flanked by members of the crime syndicate's own guards. He looked at the newcomer curiously, frowning as the hooded man put his hands in front of him, fingers splayed, to show he was unarmed.

"What's the meaning of this?" he growled, his officers priming their blasters, and the hooded man laughed.

"Now, now, boys, don't get up," the man said, voice rich, smooth and playful, a clipped Coruscanti accent affecting his every word, and all the syndicate's officers sat back down in their seats. The lord glared, hands flat on the table to push himself out of his seat, and he found he was frozen, unable to move. The hooded man laughed, a good-natured, easy ring to it, but there was an undercurrent of something much darker in his rich tones. "I'm just here to talk, boys, no need for violence. Drop your weapons." They all moved to do so, but the man quickly stammered, "Oh, wait, no!" The officers all stopped, frozen in place. "Better yet," he purred, his finger in the air making slow circles, "point your weapons at the person across from you."

The crime lord watched in horror as each and every one of them did as they were commanded, arms locked over the table and blasters primed and ready to shoot the person opposite them. He swallowed hard, his body shaking as he struggled to move, but found he could not. "W-who are you, what do you want?!" he managed to choke out, and the hooded man just smiled, yellow eyes flashing from under the shadows of his hood.

"I'll be with you in a moment, princess. Guards." The soldiers and guards in the room all stood at attention. "Leave, all of you. See that nobody enters this room until I say otherwise. If anyone comes close, kill them." The guards silently left the room, the crime lord looking on in despair as the hooded man slowly gestured when the foot soldiers were gone, and the large doors slammed shut. "What I want..." the man purred, slowly striding past the enthralled officers. "I want my chair. You're in it. Get up."

The crime boss rose, pushing away from the table and standing at the side of the large chair as the hooded man draped himself over the armrests, crossing his legs and sighing as he leaned back. Smiling, he beaconed the crime lord to come closer, and he did, feet dragging as they moved on their own accord.

"Kneel."

He dropped to his knees, and the intruder reached out to lay an elegant, well-kept hand on his head. "W-who are you..."

"Oh, sweetie, you don't need to know that. You can just call me Master." The word caught in the crime lord's throat, his strong will trying to resist, his rage and indignation keeping him from following the order for a moment before he shuddered, the word spilling out of his mouth against his will. The hooded man smirked, pet the thick brown hair on the man's head. "Good boy! That wasn't so hard, was it? Don't worry, it's easier the second time. Say my name."

"M-master..."

"And again."

"Master."

"Once more, dear."

"Master."

"Very good!" he purred, patting the dazed man's cheek, the crime lord's hazy eyes struggling to come back into focus. "Now, as for why I am here...see, I have heard a disturbing rumor." He fished a databad out from the folds of his robe and quickly brought up the offending article. "I discovered this on one of Nar Shaddaa's public datanets. Here, read it for me." He turned the datapad to the kneeling man.

"...It's a bounty."

"No, really?" The yellow eyes narrowed. "Read it."

"It's offering one million credits to whoever brings in the remains of Count Dooku."

"Mmm." The Master smiled. "That is a lot of money, isn't it?"

"What does this have to do with me!" the man yelped, his voice cracking in his panic. His heart was pounding, and he had no idea why this bounty made him so nervous. There were hundreds of thousands of bounties on Nar Shaddaa.

"You see, the Count happens to be an...associate of mine, and I don't happen to take things like this very well." The crime lord opened his mouth to speak, but the hooded man swiftly tightened the hand in his hair, forcing his head back. "Hush now, daddy's talking. I've done my research, boy, and I have traced this bounty right back to your organization. Or..." He chuckled, soft and light and chills ran down the crime lord's spine. "Or one of the crime syndicates on this kriffing waste of rock. There are so many, I can't keep them straight! I am willing to make an example of yours, though."

"P-please, just let us go." He swallowed hard when the man in his chair said nothing. "I've heard of you, please, just tell me what you want and you'll have it."

"If you've heard of me, than you know that begging doesn't help," he growled, his yellow eyes flashing before he smiled sweetly. "But I do like it. Let's play a game!" he said quickly, sitting up in the chair and leaning over the armrest, cheek resting on his hand as he looked at the kneeling crime boss. "You tell me what you know about me, and I'll tell you what I know about you. Whoever knows most wins!"

"P-please, I don't-"

"You will play. Be a good boy."

"Y-yes Master..." The words were torn from him, and he nearly sobbed. He looked up into the yellow eyes and quietly said, "Word has spread about the Separatist's Negotiator. A man that gets whatever he wants with no resistance at all. I can only assume that's you."

"The Negotiator..." he purred. "I do like that name. Tell me, what is your underground saying about me?"

"N-nobody that defies you lives."

He nodded, smirking and running the crime lord's brown hair through his fingers. "Oh, the stories I could tell you of the people that did. They didn't die right away, of course. What's the point if they don't suffer." He smiled brightly. "My turn." The long, elegant fingers rested on the shaking man's forehead, and he suddenly tensed, open mouth gasping but unable to move away from the Negotiator. "Shh, just let it happen. Open yourself to me." And he did, he had no choice. The crime lord's body went slack as he felt a tremendous pressure in his mind. He didn't feel pain, but he did feel hazy and unfocused, his entire being craving submission and obedience to the man with the bright yellow eyes.

"You have four sons," he purred, drawing his hand away and watching as the crime lord shook his head, his hazy eyes drifting as he struggled to regain control. "And a daughter and a pretty little wife. You should be pleased they aren't here. It's very wise to keep them on...Taris! No matter, I can always go get them, if that becomes necessary." His yellow eyes observed the long table, the officers still pointing their weapons at each other, arms shaking as their muscles strained from the effort. "I want his sons to stand."

Four of the officers slowly got to their feet, their movements jerky and unsteady as their minds fought for control, their blasters still pointed at the person across from them. The crime boss looked on in horror as his boys rose, his eyes wide and focused, the haze slowly fading.

"You," the Negotiator chirped, pointing at one of the boys. "Put your blaster against your head." The young officer slowly did so, arm shaking and jerking as he did so, and the hooded man smiled. "Now, let's negotiate. I want this bounty gone. I want any bounty hunter that accepted this contract dead, and I want the person who posted it delivered to me. Am I understood?"

"How are we supposed to do any of that! If the Hutts made this happen-"

The Negotiator flicked his hand in the air, and the high-pitched electronic thrum of a blaster firing filled the room for a moment before the officer fell lifeless to the ground. Unmoving, the crime lord looked at the place where his son once stood, and hopelessly gazed at the other three.

"Oops!" the Negotiator said quickly, yellow eyes flashing. "Sorry, my mistake, my hand slipped. You, officer." He pointed to another one of the sons. "Blaster to your head, now." The officer did as he was commanded, and the crime lord choked back a sob. "Let's try that again. We don't want me to make another mistake, now do we."

"...n-no, Master..."

"Then are we understood? I will have what I want. I will be back to make certain it is done, and if it is not, there isn't a place in this galaxy that will be safe for you." He smiled brightly. "Or your family. Or for anyone in this room. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, yes, please!"

"You can put your weapons down, gentlemen. On the table there, and put your hands up." There was a collective sigh of relief as they laid the blasters on the table and put their shaking arms up, their faces damp with nervous sweat. "What's fair, hmm? How long should I give you?" He pondered this for a moment, a long finger tapping his bearded chin. Finally he nodded, smiling sweetly at the crime lord. "I'll be back this time tomorrow. Make certain it is done."

The kneeling boss jumped to his feet, rage on his face. "That is impossible! We need more time to do this!"

"No, you will do as I say." Finally, the golden eyes seemed to blaze, that smirking mouth twisting into a vicious snarl, and the officers in the room began to writhe in pain as their blood boiled within them. "Kneel, boy," he growled, and the terrified man dropped to his knees, eyes wide as he watched the robed man stand and saunter to him, un-clipping something from his belt and holding the metal cylinder in his hand. "Open your mouth."

The man began sobbing as his jaw was pried open by an invisible force, and the Negotiator put the end of the smooth silver and black object in the crime lord's mouth. "Do you know what this is?" he purred, voice smooth and sweet, and the criminal started to nod his head. "Actually, don't answer that. I'll tell you. This is a lightsaber. I'm certain you know what that is, I hear people with lightsabers around these parts are held in the highest respect. After all, killing a Jedi isn't easy." He grinned wickedly when the man's body shook with a dry sob. "I would love to tell you that I took this off a Jedi, but this happens to be mine, and the business end of it happens to be in your mouth. Now, if my finger were to slip, and it turned on..."

A strangled scream came from the crime lord's mouth, thin and muffled around the saber, and the Negotiator pressed it deeper. "Understand this. If my bidding is not done, I'm not going to kill you. Not right away. I'm going to make you watch as I slowly destroy your family. One. By. One. Painfully. And I can make them do anything I want. Just imagine what I can do to your pretty little wife and your daughter. She's young, but not that young, and you will be there, watching as I make them scream and beg." the Negotiator smiled sweetly. "And as you know, begging never works. So when you're out solving my problem, I want you to remember who's responsible for your problems. Understand?"

He nodded, fast, frantic, moving so little it looked like he was just shaking, but it satisfied the hooded man, and he withdrew his saber, clipping it back on his belt, the crime boss gagging and coughing as he was released. "I trust you will pool all your resources to get this done." He watched the man nod ferociously, his yellow eyes darting over the room and casually observing the officers as they shook and convulsed, the pain in their bodies easing as he released his hold on them and slowly walked toward the door as an unseen force opened it before him, shutting with a reverberating slam.

He yawned, standing among the enthralled soldiers for a moment before he selected a few and strode off through the building, allowing the guards to escort him to the roof of the massive tower. He waived his hand and dismissed the guards, pulling his cloak around him as he walked toward the ship he had set down on the large personal landing pad. The ship ramp extended as he drew near, and he quickly made his way to the cockpit, settling into the pilot's seat and opening the com-channel to Darth Sidious. The Sith Lord's hologram appeared, hood drawn and frowning.

"It's done, Master," the man said, pulling back his hood and smoothing his sandy blond hair. "I'll return here tomorrow to make certain the contract is down."

"Good work, Lumis," the Sith said softly. "Your presence is necessary on Raxus. Tyranus is meeting with the Separatists this afternoon, and he specifically requested you."

"What is honestly left to discuss, Master?" he drawled, leaning back in the seat and crossing his long legs. "All the cogs are in motion, there's nothing left to do but wait for you to get the Senate to declare war."

"The Kaminoans need another year. We must be patient, and you must get to Raxus."

Lumis sighed, but bowed his head. "Yes, Master. Am I supposed to do anything, or does Dooku just need me to hold his hand?"

"They fear you."

"They fear him as well."

"Yes, because he has you. Tyranus needs to hide his connection to the Dark Side. You have no such restrictions."

"Why bother hiding? The Jedi know he's Sith. The galaxy knows he's strong with the Force." He yawned as he powered the ship on, his long fingers tapping the coordinates for Raxus into the navigation. "Think how well we could run things if Dooku was allowed to cull those fools."

"He must lead, Lumis. He needs to be an inspiration. You are the fear behind his leadership that keeps him in power. Besides, the Jedi cries of Sith Lord are discrediting them in within the Republic. It is further splintering them and I will not have this advantage go to waste."

"Understood, Master," the other Sith said softly, activating the autopilot and smiling softly as he felt the ship shudder and lift into the air, accelerating quickly to the speed necessary to leave the pull of the moon. "Raxus it is. Anything else?"

"Within the month, I will need to you go to Kamino to observe the progress with the clones. Also, your Duchess is beginning to be a problem." the Sith's voice was smooth, dangerous, and Lumis could feel his chest tighten. "You were correct about her being strong-willed. She is highly uncooperative."

"I'll talk to her," he mumbled, taking out his datapad and quickly composing a message to the Mandalorian. "If that is all, Master..."

"It is. See that everything goes smoothly." The com cut, and the man groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his yellow eyes.

It had been six years since Obi-Wan Kenobi had fallen. Six years of hard, intensive training under the Sith Lord Darth Sidious, six years of learning how to tame the feral beast that was the Dark Side, and in that time, Kenobi had grown powerful, much stronger than he ever could have imagined. Sidious had taught him how to turn his inclination for mind control into a knack for mental domination, a skill that came easily to him, and he used it liberally. He became a perfect shadow operative for the plans of the Sith, doing the bidding of his Master and the necessary tasks for Dooku in complete secrecy. Kenobi tried to avoid killing when he could, preferring instead to make people kill themselves if it came to that. The power that he held over others was thrilling, intoxicating, and the fear he inspired drew him further into the Dark Side, making him stronger each time he did it.

It also helped that without a body trail, he stayed safely hidden away from the Jedi. All anyone knew was that the Separatists had a powerful ally, a man known by reputation only that somehow managed to convince anyone of anything, coming to be known as the Negotiator as he slowly pulled staunchly Republic planets to the Separatist cause. Chancellor Palpatine had spoken out about this man in the Senate, made it clear that the Republic would not be intimidated by this shadow operative, demanded that Dooku and his Separatist allies revealed his identity, but to no avail. The Separatists simply claimed that the Senate's manhunt for the Negotiator, a peaceful talker and mediator, simply showed the Republic's inclination toward violence and their inability to be reasoned with, and more planets joined the Separatist cause as they agreed.

The Jedi knew the man had to be Sith. All the evidence pointed toward a powerful practitioner of the Dark Side, and many believed that the Negotiator was the Sith Master himself, with Dooku quietly following as his apprentice. Still others believed that it was Dooku who was the Master, and the elusive Negotiator was his new apprentice. Master Yoda, however, believed the Rule of Two may no longer be in play, that the Sith Master had trained Maul, Dooku and now this Negotiator as well. The confusion pleased Sidious, and he quietly urged his young apprentice to continue his work.

Six years ago, the Jedi believed that Obi-Wan Kenobi and four other Jedi were murdered by Dooku, and now, they were no closer to the truth, and with Dooku emerging as the leader of the Separatists, they had no ability to bring him to justice. Obi-Wan wasn't surprised. When he was still a Jedi, when he was hunting the Sith with fierce determination, the Council got in his way at every turn. The realization that Kenobi was right struck the Jedi hard when the Sithkiller had been slain by the Sith, but even then, the Jedi Code prevented them from going far enough to achieve actual results. Their methods were ineffective, not like the Sith, who thrived on brutal efficiency. Kenobi was thriving in the Dark Side under the careful eye of Sidious. Unlike the Jedi, his new Master gave him vision, purpose, power, a partnership that was forged through pain and rage and was made stronger by the deep trust and loyalty that the former Jedi brought to the Master-Apprentice relationship.

Sidious would not betray him. Sidious was family, more than the Jedi had ever been. The Sith Master could feel Kenobi's undying loyalty, and it elevated the young apprentice in the eyes of the Sith Lord, quickly overtaking Tyranus as Sidious' primary apprentice. Obi-Wan was highly intelligent, devastatingly powerful, and dedicated heart and soul to the Sith cause, and Sidious had come to rely on him, knowing that no matter the task he pointed the boy at, Kenobi would succeed, no matter the cost; Obi-Wan Kenobi did not do things in halves, committing fully to everything he did. The newly appointed Darth Lumis was a formidable Sith and a worthy successor, and while Obi-Wan knew that weakness would be met with betrayal, he gave his Master no cause to doubt him.

It wasn't long before the ship snapped out of hyperspace outside of Raxus, a planet renowned for its beauty, and it was here that Dooku, coming out of hiding just a few months prior, had delivered a fiery speech condemning the Republic and establishing the Confederacy of Independent Systems, an alternative to the corrupt Senate that sent the entire galaxy reeling. Kenobi sighed as he watched the wealthy, beautiful city of Raxulon come into view, and he left the cockpit as the ship's autopilot took him to the massive capital's palace, the private landing dock reserved for only the most important members of the Separatist Council. Kenobi wasn't a part of that, naturally, but he parked where he wanted.

The exit port hissed open, and Kenobi strode out as the ramp extended, pulling his hood over his head, his long legs bringing him swiftly into the building. He didn't need to do anything to the guards of the magnificent palace. They saw him and quickly stepped out of the way, hands in the air to show they were unarmed. Kenobi had trained them well. They were certainly more compliant than the highly irritating Geonosian guard on the Confederacy's capital of Geonosis. Obi-Wan avoided those meetings if he could, but he enjoyed the luxury of Raxus.

The Sith Lord threw open the doors to the circular chamber where the Separatist Council met, and Dooku looked up, highly irritated. The others at the table shrank back, watching the newcomer nervously. Nute Gunray was notably distressed, a pathetic whimper escaping his throat as he shook so hard his chair scraped against the floor.

"You're late," the Count drawled, and Kenobi smirked, posture cocky.

"The party can't start until the main event arrives." He grinned wider as the Count's frown deepened. "And here I am. And you brought my favorite," he purred, slowly licking his lips as his yellow eyes bore into Nute Gunray. "Hello, sweetie..."

The Neimoidian turned a very pale shade of green, and Kenobi snickered. Gunray had never forgotten what the Sith could do to him, mostly because Obi-Wan made certain to remind him every single time they met what he could do to his fragile mind.

"If you're done harassing the Council, I would like to continue," the Count quietly growled, and Kenobi bowed deeply.

"Please, be my guest."

And they talked, Obi-Wan coming to lean against Dooku's chair, his yellow eyes shut and listening intently as they discussed strategies, financing, the development of their droid forces, the worlds that were looking to separate themselves from the Republic, and Kenobi found it terribly dull. There was literally no reason for him to be there. Dooku was wasting his time. His eyes roamed over the occupants of the room, narrowing in disgust at the collection before him. These people were no different than the Senators in the Republic. Their primary motivation was trade, commerce, and, by extension, profit. They were greedy and self-interested, each and every one of them, but Kenobi knew that his Master had a plan. Even these pathetic creatures would have a purpose to create strength in the galaxy, even if it was just to serve as someone to be stepped on.

The Sith's yellow eyes met with the feral, reptilian gold eyes of Grievous, the Cyborg commander that came with the InterGalactic Banking Clan's Muun leader, San Hill. Obi-Wan and the cyborg hadn't met officially, but they knew each other by reputation, saw each other at meetings like this, but they never spoke and they completely and throughly hated each other. It didn't help things that Dooku had been instructing the creature in lightsaber combat, which Kenobi found to be not only a waste, but highly insulting. The lightsaber was an elegant weapon in the hands of a skilled Force sensitive, but put it in the artificial hands of a creature so inadequate he felt compelled to improve himself with cybernetics...

It was like giving a Nubian Cruiser to a Bantha.

The meeting was dull, and Dooku, in Obi-Wan's opinion, owed him.

Kenobi grinned wickedly, yellow eyes blazing as he reached out with the Force and touched the organic mind in that droid body, and Grievous lurched forward, eyes narrowing and snarling, the sound amplified and made more animalistic by his mask as he tried to resist the obvious intruder. The rest of the Council scooted away from the table, their chairs scraping loudly against the floor. The meeting was, apparently, over.

"What are you doing," Dooku growled quietly to the Sith Lord at his side.

"Establishing dominance," Kenobi quietly purred, pressing against the cyborg's mind and laughing loudly when he felt the strength of the commander's resolve. "Oh, you are delicious. I'm going to enjoy breaking you."

"This meeting is done for now," Dooku said swiftly, standing from his seat, hands on the table and eyes blazing as he watched Obi-Wan grinning with sinister delight as the cyborg lay on the table, his metallic hands raking across the wood and leaving large, deep gashes in the smooth surface. The Council didn't waste a second in leaving as quickly as they could, Grievous' howls echoing after them down the long hallway before Dooku gripped the doors with the Force and slammed them shut. "Kenobi," he snarled, yellow eyes glinting, "let him go."

He pushed past Grievous' resistance and the cyborg shuddered, a low, tremulous groan reverberating in the air before he began gasping for breath. Obi-Wan's mind filled with the thoughts and memories and the rage of the cybernetic man, and he purred in satisfaction as he felt the last of Grievous' will slip away into reluctant submission.

It didn't last long as Kenobi's focus broke when Dooku grabbed him by the back of the robes and yanked him backwards, the ridged cyborg collapsing onto the table in a twitching heap. "Grievous, leave." The cyborg slowly pushed himself off the table, breath a low, menacing growl and yellow eyes narrowed at Obi-Wan, his cybernetic hand reaching under his cape and pulling out a lightsaber.

"Don't make him leave, Dooku, I haven't had a good massacre in a while." The cyborg snarled, activating the weapon and furious as the young Sith smirked in amusement.

"Now, Grievous." The Count's word was final. With a frustrated howl, the cyborg stalked past the two men, wrathful eyes never leaving the smirking Sith as he unceremoniously kicked the door open and left the room, the metallic clang on his cybernetic clawed feet on the stone floor echoing through the hall. Dooku grabbed the door with the Force and slammed it shut once again. "Are you satisfied?"

"Not in the least," Kenobi drawled, dropping into one of the empty chairs and placing his black boots upon the table. "You should have let me slave him to my will. I'm sick of that impudent scrap of metal."

"I did not bring you here to disrupt proceedings and to antagonize the future General of our army!"

Kenobi groaned. "Tyranus, sweetheart, I disrupt and antagonize. That's what I do, it's in my job description. So if that's not why you wanted me here, why did you bring me here."

"It's a good reminder to the others of what they are allied with. These are powerful people, and they are accustomed to getting what they want. It's good for them to remember exactly what is watching over them." Dooku frowned as Kenobi smirked deviously.

"So! What I'm hearing is, 'Thank you, Obi-Wan, for that display of power, my associates will be more cooperative in the future.' That is what you meant to say, right?"

Dooku sighed, dropping wearily in the seat next to the grinning Sith and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shutting tightly. Arguing with the man was impossible and entirely pointless. Even without the Force, Kenobi was known for getting exactly what he wanted. The Negotiator indeed. "Every single time I am in your presence, I deeply regret it."

"Believe me," Kenobi drawled, examining his well-manicured fingers, "you're no pleasure to be around either. And we have to do it so often." He pulled his hood back and smoothed his hair back. "You're welcome for that as well, your vexation with me is deepening your connection with the Dark Side."

"I don't need you for that."

"I know." Kenobi flashed him a cocky grin. "I'm extra. By the way," he drawled quickly when it looked like Dooku would begin to reprimand the younger man. Again. "I took care of that contract on you. I suspect that won't be a problem again. I'll be returning tomorrow to make sure I got everything I asked for."

"All these problems would be solved faster if you just killed them," Dooku growled, glaring at the smug younger man. "I don't understand why our Master allows you to keep this pathetic regard for life."

"What, you think I value their lives?" Kenobi laughed loudly, leaning back in the chair and carrying on until tears gathered at the corner of his yellow eyes, and the Count became more angry with each passing second. "Don't be absurd, they are nothing. Their lives are meaningless. But," he purred, leaning toward the older man, and the Count's eyes narrowed and he leaned away. "You would kill them to solve a singular problem. I would much rather let them live in fear and root out the problem for good. These fools talk. They will dig deep to destroy everything that is even remotely connected to what is displeasing me because they are afraid, and in the future, these things won't happen."

Dooku regarded him carefully and then slowly nodded. "Very well."

Kenobi yawned loudly, stretching his arms above his head. "I'll be hunting the bounty hunters that accepted the contract shortly, I can't trust a crime syndicate to do a through job of that. I'll be bringing them back to Serenno, we can play with them together!"

"I've no desire to do anything with you beyond what is absolutely necessary."

Kenobi scoffed. "Fine, suit yourself, grandpa. I'm still bringing them to Serenno."

"Grandpa?!" Dooku's face flushed with rage, his eyes flashing yellow. "Now listen here, Lumis, you are a guest in my palace, and you will do as I say if you will continue to be there! And you would be lucky if you live to be half my age!"

"Oh, please, who wants to be that old? I sure don't. I got rid of that contract for you, and you invited me to your boring meeting. You owe me, and I'm taking out payment in the form of living in your palace."

"You are a freeloader, Kenobi, and when I throw you out, you'll just be a vagrant. Hardly befitting a Sith Lord, now is it?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Fine, old man, if you need a break, I'll just go stay with Satine." He purred, leaning close to Dooku. "Her palace is bigger than yours."

"One day," Dooku growled, his teeth tightly clenched and looking into those bored, amused golden eyes, "our Master is going to beat the impertinence out of you."

"He already has," Kenobi purred, smirking as he pat the older man's bearded cheek. "I just don't need to show deference toward you."

"You're a cheeky bastard, Kenobi."

"You know it." Obi-Wan stood from his seat, winking at the other Sith as he sauntered toward the door. "I'll see you on Serenno tonight, Dooku."

"Be ready to fight, Kenobi, your form has been lacking."

"We'll see about that." Obi-Wan smirked as he watch the Count, despite himself, smile slightly, and the Sith Lord left the room. There was work to be done.