Hopefully this won't be that bad, because this is probably the only Star Wars Fanfic I'll write.
I don't own George Lucas's characters, by the way, but you knew that.
Suffering and Revenge
The sands were harsher than he remembered, and it didn't ease his irritation that a wind howled, tearing at the ground and forcing them on his robes, battering him and urging for the lone figure to make a move, strike a blow against the treacherous environment.
But he didn't.
The unforgiving landscape he was ashamed to call his home was not the reason he had returned to this desolate planet. If there was any sort of weapon that would allow him to strike this planet down, he would do it; anything to escape the past that rendered him helpless. It mattered nothing to him any more. He rehearsed this line of speech through his mind over and over again, so many times that the words began to appear before his eyes. And they made his eyes flood with tears. He couldn't stop them either, no matter how powerful he appeared to his master, or to the whole of the republic. All of his life he had wanted power, and now that he had it… he was truly a monster. It took all of his courage, and his boiling rage directed towards the Jedi, to refuse the urge to kneel at his wife's feet and despair over the wrongs he had committed.
Still, a deeper creature was building in his chest, one that roared and doubled in size with every Jedi he had struck down. And that was because he saw himself in their eyes. Those eyes, the eyes of those younglings, the ones who were being taught to ignore their feelings, everything that made him what he was, pierced his very soul. And so he could destroy himself without truly killing himself.
Whether or not there was true pleasure in such an act was veiled from the turmoil of his mind, though a smile slithered over his face. It was a truly demented, contorted line that resembled a lethal serpent, or a rope used to strangle someone, or a bolt of lightning hurtling through the heart of an enemy. It represented everything evil in his life, for he was reflecting over everything in his life even now, as he carried out the orders that would secure his legendary power.
Evil was the one thing that would secure Anakin Skywalker's life now, even sweet, sweet Padme could not save him.
Previously, when he raided the Jedi temple with a huge battalion of clones behind him, lending him that sense of invincibility, he'd kept his mouth motionless. It hid the hurtling thoughts that made his mind whir uncontrollably, and so made him appear invincible too. But he knew he wasn't untouchable as he so desired. He took great pain in the fact as well.
He blinked hard, attempting to stem the flow of tears, but the gesture only worsened his situation. So he pressed on, finally walking and ensuring that his legs still functioned properly, and that he still possessed a body, not just a mind.
As he trekked across the bitter landscape, his black robes shifted and flowed in the winds, bolstering the size of his appearance. They would momentarily show the metal of his light saber, his favored weapon. He felt like Death, coming to seize lives whenever he felt appropriate. He certainly had the power to enforce it, and no one could challenge this right.
His eyes settled on the white dome and the gaping hole in front of him. There was his target. He'd been here only once before, to investigate the disappearance of his mother. And that was when he had discovered that she had been kidnapped by the ruthless Tusken Raiders, the monsters of his planet of origin and of his nightmares. The sensation of holding his mother's lifeless body in his arms was too unbearable. It was the act that truly shoved him into the open world, a world that dealt a harsh hand to the players of life. It was this very same act that finally struck a cold chord in his empty heart, one that had longed for someone to want him, to hold him, to love him… someone who would truly show him that he had power in the world.
And so he had killed the monsters, the horde of fiends. He'd struck down every single one of the pathetic hunters, claiming his power and declaring himself the most powerful Jedi ever.
He muttered a choked laugh as he realized this had come true, so many years ago.
In a few moments time he arrived at the entrance to the small moisture farm, and he tromped down the stairs, half expecting a warm welcome. He knew that he was an usurper of ultimate power, and so no one would welcome him but his loving wife.
Soon he arrived in the basin, the interior of the farm, where many different rooms branched off; some providing equipment, some providing shelter. A flicker of movement revealed the presence of a man known as Lars; his son was on a leave of absence, apparently.
"Ah, Anakin, my boy!" His hover-chair glided smoothly to the oppressing murderer. A forced smile split his beard of stubble. "How wonderful to see you." Then he stared curiously at Anakin's face, shrouded in the shadows of his dark hood. "Is… is there something wrong? You look sick, son."
His jaw clenched involuntarily. Hearing Lars call him son mocked him, for no one truly felt that obliged to name him thus. And it wasn't an illness that bestowed an odd aura in Lars's eyes… no. It had been that smudge of evil coating his face, the intense glare his eyes had acquired.
"Come inside, son. Have a drink, it'll be alright." Lars extended a hand, and for a moment Anakin wanted to believe him. He had no idea why this man, whom he'd meet only once before, could convince him where memories of his adoring wife could not, but he ground his teeth and remembered why he was here.
His hand reached for his weapon. Lars saw it and his eyes widened, bringing his hands up in a quiet plea. "Look, whatever orders you're under, I didn't do anything wrong. I'm a good man, you know this!"
Anakin, now more than ever, Darth Vader, managed to say, in a harsh, gruff tone of unaltered anger that was fighting restraints, "You let my mother die."
"You… you know I loved her Anakin. You have to… you have to- AAARRGGHH!"
In a flash of blue light, his light saber swung in a wide arc, slicing Lars's torso clean in half. Anakin felt his eyes burn with hate as he watched the man fall, the man who had refused to even try to save his helpless mother. His last thought before he left the man to die, and for his son to wonder who had slain him, was questioning if the existence of anger was all that remained in the human mind… in his mind.
I seem to have a thing for writing evil characters and diving into that pool of emotions. For some reason I absolutely LOVE writing it.
Anyway, REVIEW! Right now… do it… seriously