Notes: Originally, a few years back, I had started this idea as a Supernatural fanfic. However, the atmosphere seemed all wrong so I had never wrote much into it. Fast forward a couple of years and, lone behold, I recently watched Star Wars episodes I-VI, re-awakening this idea within in in a more suited atmosphere. This story takes place in my own sick and twisted version of the afterlife. I personally imagine that Anakin wouldn't simply be let off the hook—as it appeared to be at the very end of 'Return of the Jedi'—for slaughtering thousands if not millions of living beings. Hence, this story. This will be kind of a sad fanfic because I will not be kind to Anakin in this story. BUT it may eventually have a happy enough ending.
Rating: M for language, violence, torture, self mutilation, and in very later chapters smut.
Chapter 1
7,031 Feet Below the Surface
Scum!
Horrible!
Useless!
Oh great Sith...
What had done?
He was confused as to where in the hell he was at the moment...Nonetheless, that really didn't seem to matter. All that mattered was that he had realized that he was Anakin Skywalker again and that—that was painful.
What had he done?
His eyes teared up but he couldn't wipe at them. His hands were bound with overweight rusty chains; he was being drug along by a guard in front of him. While three guards were intently following behind him sporting some sort of freakishly large dogs that kept on nipping at his ankles if he walked too slowly.
Sure, he could use the force and easily fight his way out of this mess. Maybe...But at what cost? He didn't care who these guards were, where they were taking him, or what they were going to do to him. He wasn't going to use the force ever again. He had done enough.
The longer they walked, the air was getting more thick and slimy, the walls were becoming more rustic and corroded, and temperature rising to nearly unbearable levels as hot water began to trickle down onto his head. He was underground somewhere and deep underground at that. But, why in the name of the Sith was he being taken underground?
He'd barely completed the thought before the Underground erupted into raucous bellows and hoots. Over the vulgar cacophony, Anakin heard the metallic creak and slam as the Underground's security doors were bypassed.
A prison!
His muggy thoughts were beginning to become a little more clear. He had saved his son, sacrificing his own life in the process. Technically, at the very last minute, he had died as Anakin Skywalker. He knew he was dead so he was guessing that this was the afterlife especially because he had his youth and appendages back. He rejoiced briefly at the thought of not having to wear a respirator. Until—
"Fucking pig!"
"Fascist dog, how 'bout you come up in my cell?"
"We'll fix you up, asshole. Just you wait!"
"You're right were you belong, authoritarian fuck!"
The inmates were all jeering at him. During his time as Vader he had locked away hundreds of beings. Yet, Rebels never seemed scary behind bars. Rebels had always seemed so normal...so morally uphold, so classy in their fight against him. These inmates were different. Each one looking bigger and more threatening than the next complete with dead eyes, decaying morals, and an unhealthy dose of mental insanity. Unlike the Rebels, all these men had done something to deserve to be here...Much like himself. He deserved this place where ever it may be.
The guard in front of him came to an abrupt stop. The barking and yelling was nearly on top of him. And just when Anakin's ears began to ring, three dark figures with three leashed and muzzled dogs strode right up to a barred door and halted. Anakin knew how this sort of thing operated. The guard at point was a pudgy-faced Jailer, whilst the three behind him were common guards.
"Shut up! All of you all!"
The Jailer's orders were easily lost in the sea of mocking roars. Suddenly, Anakin's eyes met a familiar set of menacing yellow eyes.
Darth Maul!
Anakin blinked just to be sure.
Yep! That was definitely Darth Maul who was tucked away in the cell in front of him. The cell that was about to be opened up...
Anakin watched as the scowling man yanked a blaster from his belt and aimed at random.
"I said, SHUT UP!"
Three shots exploded into the hall. Like a rabid animal beaten momentarily out of its madness, the orange-jump-suited hoard that was The Underground fell quiet; even the lean crazed guard dogs held their slimy tongues for a few seconds.
"That's more like it. Goddamn pack of yappin' mutts...the dogs too."
The Jailer jammed his blaster back into its holster and glared evenly at the cells around him. The prisoners might have been menaced into temporary silence, but they still pressed hungrily up against the iron limits of their cages, arms and wild-eyed expressions oozing out into the hall beyond. Their heavy breathing was a lukewarm wind within The Underground.
Except for the ones whose cells were close to the dogs; those men kept their distance from the bars, making sure to keep their throats out of easy lunging range.
Anakin wasn't going to lie to himself. The hounds were way more terrifying than the guards that handled them. Something about them triggered a deep, primal fear that mere men simply couldn't invoke. Anakin could see the monsters breathe, their mangy black coats rippling over tight muscles as they thrashed against their heavy, sharp-pronged collars. The yellowish foam from their mouths bubbled out through the steel mesh of their muzzles, and they all watched him with rolling white eyes.
Suddenly, one of the larger ones snapped viciously at Anakin's thigh, triggering the other dogs to spiral into a barking frenzy. The guard holding the big bastard mutt jerked it up by the leash, pulling its front claws up off the grated floor. He reeled back a broad hand and thwacked the hollow of his animal's neck, then turned to give Anakin an impatient push.
"Come on, the damn dogs are losing it! Uncuff him and push him in already!"
The Jailer anchored a quiet glare on the guard from the corner of his eye. "Watch your tongue, or I'll tear it out and feed it to that flea-bag o' yours for a midnight snack."
The guard gave a reactionary snarl, but kept his mouth pointedly shut and his dog on a shorter leash.
The Jailer then smiled, slowly, as if suddenly remembering something interesting.
"Well, what do you know, Maul? Seeing how you guys were both fucked by the same old dude, I believe you two know each other. Consider this an early birthday present!"
Darth Maul wedged himself even further back into his bunk. The Jailer giving him a yellowed sneer.
"Be nice to him, Maul," came the Jailer's phlegm-slicked voice. "Don't want your new best friend to end up like poor old Randall, now do you?"
An ugly bear of a man emerged from the cell next to Maul's. The man was sporting a wide grin with sweat plastered over his features. "Don't worry we'll take good care of him," the man promised, deception lacing his voice.
"Hah! Of course ya will, BTK. Because we all know how well you and your boys play with others..."
The Jailer dragged a ringful of keys from one of his pockets; Anakin watched, eyes narrowed, as the greasy man uncuffed him.
There was a metallic cacophony of clatters as the mess of locks and deadbolts on the door were painstakingly closed. Finally, a dull clack echoed through the hall when the last lock fell into place, and the iron-barred door creaked open.
Anakin stared wide-eyed and silent at his new cellmate. This was terrible...For all Anakin knew Darth Maul was still a Sith Lord and if Darth Maul was still a Sith Lord then he was going to have a fight on his hands as soon as those fucking guards walked away. Yet, Anakin wasn't the only one who was nervous. He could smell Darth Maul's anxious sweat as he was thrust roughly into the cell.
"This is your new home, asshole," laughed the Jailer, swaggering into the doorway. "Three hots and all the torture, violence and fighting you could ever dream off. Not bad for free, eh?"
Anakin could hear his new blockmates stalking within their cells, eye glinting maliciously as they sized up their new prey. The Jailer must have sense the lurking prisoner's hunger too because he turned to face the rows of cells that ran up and down the hall.
"I'm guessing by that rousing welcome that we're already somewhat familiar with our latest addition!"
There was almost no response from the skulking pack, but Anakin felt the old electricity of anticipation rising again. The guards shifted uncomfortably and their dogs growling doubled.
The Jailer only smirked. "Darth Vader everybody. Here for the murder of millions and the root cause of the suffering of countless more. He's a hot shot in the world of serial killers," the jailer paused and turned towards Anakin, "Doesn't matter how ruthless you were in life. This place will tear you to pieces especially because if you use the force you will be drug to Hell by demons where it will be game over for all eternity. So don't even think about it."
He drew it out slowly, letting the fact soak in that the great Darth Vader, the once most feared man in the galaxy, could be nothing more than a regular man in here. The Underground erupted into a fit of laughter at his mortality. Anakin didn't need the force to feel all the inmates that were just waiting for the opportunity to try their best to beat the shit out of him for everything that he had done.
Anakin cringed; every fist they slammed into his shit-eating face would feel practically sanctified for the crimes he had committed. He would deserve every blow he would surely receive...
The Jailer coughed violently, pulling out a handkerchief to spit into. "Your nothing in here, Darth Vader. You do not even have a name anymore. From now on, you're known as..." the Jailer stepped forward studying Anakin's reactions to the closeness. Daring him to challenge his supreme authority.
"Prisoner 073241-VX. Got that?"
Anakin glared at his captor, but said nothing. Distantly, Darth Maul was impressed that his fellow fallen, ex-Sith brethren hadn't pissed his pants already. The Jailer, however, was not.
"Awe, is the poor shit-stained asshole too scared to shoot his ugly mouth off?"
For a moment Anakin's old temper reared his head. He was never good at holding back his tongue and this guard was really asking for it. "Fuck you!" he spat.
Anakin could hear the scummy smirk in the fat Jailer's guffaw of laughter. "What do ya know, that's our motto here! See? You're practically family already!"
Anakin's head jerked as though the Jailer's words had caught him right in the jaw. Clearly eager to be done with all the pleasantries, the Jailer snorted and spat again. "Hah. I've got nothing more to say to you, VX," he rasped. "Welcome to The Underground. This is the closest thing you can get to Hell without actually being there. Every man down here is guilty of at least one heinous crime, however, only thing that stopped all of you bastards here from actually going to Hell is the fact that you were sorry right before you died. Personally, if you asked me, I would of thrown all of you fuckers immediately into that pit of fire. You luck is hanging by a thread, VX, don't push it."
And then the door slammed close; locking Anakin in with Darth Maul. Out in the hall, the Jailer screamed for the prisoners to get their asses back to their bunks, and the guards made their exit, the baying of their dogs fading out to nothing.
Anakin and Darth Maul made awkward eye contact. In dire need to do anything that would alleviate the tenseness of the situation, Anakin pushed past Darth Maul, making his way to the top bunk.
Darth Maul couldn't help but smile. He cleared his throat quietly, "Don't mind the blood up there?"
Anakin glanced back at Darth Maul curiously; having got his attention, Darth Maul gestured to the pile of blood on the mattress that had remained stagnant up there for quite some time now. They hadn't bothered to clean it up yet. Probably would leave it until it was almost time for the semi-annual inspection.
"It's Randall's," Darth Maul explained.
Anakin's stare didn't waver nearly as much as Darth Maul had expected it to, however, Anakin's fist did curl nervously to the ready. "What...the fuck..."
"Don't worry the blood is quite old," Darth Maul informed him, as if that would offer some sort of mild comfort.
"...Did you do something to him?" Anakin finished, his voice steady but his stance anxious.
Unexpectedly, Darth Maul found himself hesitating at the question; he heard their cellmate next to them laugh, knowingly. But the moment passed, and he recovered quickly.
"Thanks for thinking that I'm still evil but I really can't rightly take credit. Don't get me wrong we pretty much have free reign to make each other bleed as much as possible and sometimes the guards even force us to fight. However, if inmates want to make you bleed, we'll catch you in the yard. Less messy that way." Darth Maul shook his head. "No. This was...Angel's handiwork."
"Angel?"
"Hah! You mean you didn't get the 'official' introduction? Lucky you, Angel is the head warden around here...meaner. Than. Shit. Too. He looks human but personally I'm fairly god-damned certain that this place is run by an actual demon."
Anakin was still just staring. "The head warden did this?"
Darth Maul laughed. Darth Vader should know all about prison corruption. "Ya...Randall crossed Angel. Got caught trying to steal some keys right out of the bastard's back pocket." Darth Maul lowered his voice for theatrical effect. "And Angel put him straight; sicked his personal guard dog on him. We all knew he was off his meds, but even then, it was some fairly sick shit. Hell, I was covered in blood by the end—''
"'Enough said," Anakin ordered, squinting at Darth Maul. Anakin reluctantly scrapped at the pool of blood before settling on flipping it over, his face was oddly calm.
A thin chuckle emanated once again from the cell next to Darth Maul's and Anakin's.
Moments later, BTK's laughter was echoing all around them, and Darth Maul realized that many of the other convicts were still very much awake.
"Playin' all hard with that attitude—don't worry we'll have you laying on your back all bloody up in no time."
Anakin snapped up. BTK's bulging arms draped casually around the bars. Now that he had Anakin's attention, he flashed him a smile filled with long, unclean teeth.
"Me and my crew really run this place, VX, so it'ld be easier for everybody if you'ld drop the hard attitude and show your fears." BTK grinned, "If not we'll find yer fears and ram them straight up your ass!"
If BTK's words were scraping nerves, Anakin didn't let it show, choosing instead to merely inspect his mildly bruised wrists. Darth Maul was almost disappointed...
"Sure, go right ahead: feel free to threaten me all you want," Anakin suddenly spoke up. "But if you do decide to act on your threats just know I will defend myself."
Anakin's voice wasn't angry or even particularly invest. Just really frigging tired.
At this, BTK pushed out his bottom lip in an ugly mock-pout. "You'll regret that, VX."
Eyes cast down at his hands, Darth Maul waited for a scathing response, but the only sound was the breathing of the countless prisoner, hanging onto BTK's every word.
Finally, when Darth Maul could no longer stand the awful silence he snacked the palms of his hands together. "Well that's BTK. His name stands for 'Beat' 'Torture' then 'Kill.' As his name suggests, he's an asshole but he does have a really mean crew so you might want to watch it..."
"You tell em' Maul! It's up to you to teach your new pet some fucking manners or we'll be coming after you when we're done with him." BTK pulled back from the bars, and the crushing presence of the other inmates followed suit, melting back into the blackness. It was over, Darth Maul knew: their work was done...at least for tonight.
At this point, Anakin was laying on the top bunk; his own arms wrapped around his self as if that would somehow shield his self from this horrible place.
Recoiling fully into his own bunk, Darth Maul, shifted around a bit searching for a comfy place that didn't exist, then finally closed his eyes for a few frayed minutes of pseudo-sleep.
"Do you know how long a person like me is suppose to serve?" Anakin's voice sounded weak and confused. It could hardly be considered a fraction of the voice that once had belonged to the feared Darth Vader. Darth Maul could tell he was already beginning to crack.
Maul opened a single eye. He waited a few moments, but nothing more came out of Vader. He threw an uphill glance at the bottom of the ex-Sith's bunk.
"I would just like to know how long I'm in for so I can digest it," Anakin further explained. "And I also want to know if we are able to see old family, friends and loved ones—"
Letting a barking staccato laugh escape from his thin lips, Darth Maul interrupted. Once again, the laughter was mimicked by the horde of prisoners that were still listening in. Darth Maul grinned at their relentlessness.
"Don't kid yourself, Vader," he hissed, settling back down onto his crappy mattress. "First of all everyone's sentence here is different depending upon your actions from here on out but don't get any funny ideas of putting on a poker face and playing nice. Demons know when you're lying. Second off, I don't know if it's hit you just yet but you killed millions of beings. Your family. Your friends. Your old master. All of your old allies. Your wife—yes, we all know about her this point—hate you. They probably won't visit you unless they want to tell you to your face as to how disappointed they are in you and then they won't ever visit you again. Your wife will surely beg of you to sign divorce papers because something like that has to be official in the afterlife before she can more on. Rumor has it, she's long been in love with another man but hasn't been able to act on it because she's still unfortunately married to you...This isn't going to be fun for you."
Now laying in the dark away from the prying eyes of inmates Anakin silently wept. His heart felt heavy. He wanted to rip it straight out of his chest. This might legitimately be the worst day of his miserable existence...Possibly even worse than that day he had lost three of his limbs and was burnt head to toe.
Tbc.
