Pain. Unbridled, unimaginable pain. His body broken, burned and only his hate driving him on. His one mechanical arm dragging his body painfully along the rocks of Mustafar.
Kenobi. The name echoing through his mind, teeth gritted as he remembered the one who had done this to him. The man who he'd once called a Master, a brother, a friend. The man who had taken Padme, his Angel, from him. Who'd taken his limbs, his mobility, and any chance of life from him.
A ship, a Republic shuttle touched down on the landing pad near the facility. Palpatine. His Master. With the last vestiges of energy in his broken body, he looked up. Palpatine was standing over him, looking down at him, flanked by two Shock Troopers. He kneeled down, resting his hand on Anakin's- no, Vader's- burned head. Then, the energy left his body and, mercifully passed out.
He awoke in a large room, restrained to a large, metal operating table. His body was encased in a black leather armoured suit, a cape on his back, with prosthetic limbs giving him mobility once more. A sharp, stabbing pain as needles were plunged into the back of his neck. Neural interfaces. He looked up as a mask was lowered down to his face, the red tinted eyes glowing menacingly. The mask sealed with a hiss of air. His breathing was assisted by a mechanical respirator, forcing air into his burned lungs. The respirator rasped a mechanical, rhythmic sound.
"Lord Vader." Palpatine rasped, his voice like nails scratching on a board. "Lord Vader, can you hear me?"
Padme. Where is she?
"Where is Padme? Is she safe?" Vader's voice boomed, deep and menacing.
The Emperor's mouth crinkled up in a smile.
"Unfortunately, in your anger, you killed her" he croaked, still smiling a hollow, humourless smile.
Vader's heart broke. His Angel, his love. The reason he'd done such terrible things, murdered children, slaughtered them without mercy, all for nothing. She was dead. And by his hand. His despair turned to rage, objects lifting from the ground. IVs popped, machinery was crushed by the sheer might of Vader's rage and hate. With little effort, he broke the durasteel cuffs restraining him to the table. He staggered forward, unused to the new prosthetic limbs. He looked up to the bright lights of the chamber, and with all his might he screamed out in pain and anger.
His cry was felt by force sensitives all over the galaxy. On the medical station on Polis Massa, Yoda and Obi-Wan felt a wave of despair, rage, hate and sorrow. It was strong enough to bring Obi-Wan to his knees, Yoda holding his head in pain at the wave of emotion echoing through the force.
The Emperor cackled at Vader's anguish, his rage at the loss of his wife and unborn child. Yes, he thought. He will be a powerful tool. Vader stepped forward, bending a knee to kneel before Palpatine.
"What is thy bidding, my master?" his voice boomed, sending a shiver down Palpatine's spine.
"You must hunt down the remaining Jedi, my friend. Despite Order 66, some Jedi will have survived. It is your primary focus to make an example of them, destroy them in front of the galaxy. They will learn to fear the might of the Empire." the Emperor turned, beckoning Vader to follow. "Come. You have much to learn, and much to do. For now, we must supervise the construction of our new weapon to crush all opposition to our power."
The door to the bridge of the Devastator, the first of the new Imperial-class Star Destroyers, slid open with a smooth hiss. A small dark figure, flanked by a much larger figure. Power radiated from the pair, the power they held unmatched by any in the galaxy. To the military, they were known as 1 and 2. Publically, they were known as Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader.
The Sith Lords walked up to the main viewport of the bridge, the sight of the Emperor's new weapon filling the viewport. Vader stood, towering over the Emperor, arms crossed, pondering the future of their, his, new Empire. But at what cost? He had betrayed all he'd ever believed in, betrayed his friends, his family. Killed Padme and their unborn child. For what? An Empire of peace and prosperity? Power?
The Emperor sensed his turmoil, his conflict, and turned his head to face his apprentice. Vader saw this movement, and banished the traitorous thoughts before his master saw it fit to punish him for insubordination. Satisfied, the Emperor turned his head back to the skeleton of the superweapon. The weapon that could destroy planets, could bring any opposition to it's knees. The Death Star.
"Impressive, isn't it, Lord Vader?" The Emperor's rough, cackling voice sent a shiver down the spine of even Vader.
Vader's eyes devoured every inch of the superweapon, bringing in it's scale and sheer power.
"Yes, my master. It will be a formidable weapon against our enemies."
"Enemies, Lord Vader?"
"There will be dissidents, those who disagree with the policies of the Empire." Vader boomed, "The Death Star will be an effective deterrant."
The Emperor began to laugh. A rasping, screeching, evil laugh. The Emperor's gnarled, bony hand rested on Vader's shoulder, and it was at that moment that Anakin Skywalker truly died.