The Vader Family
Summary: Five years after the fall of the Republic which gave way to the rise of the Galactic Empire, Darth Vader is faced with an unusual dilemma: his long lost brother. Will he be able to cope with this clumsy, awkward version of himself? Or will he lose another member of his family? Features Chad Vader.
...This isn't what it looks like...okay it is. Deal with it. Before you start this story, if you do not know who Chad Vader is, GO ON YOUTUBE AND WATCH CHAD VADER! Seriously, it will be worth your time. And while you're at it, check out Dance Off with the Star Wars Stars. Darth Vader dancing to Micheal Jackson's Thriller? Best thing ever...don't judge me on what I watch. I don't know why...I've been really obsessed with Star Wars lately. I wonder why? Maybe 'cuz of that Boba Fett helmet I got for my birthday...heh, 'Boba'...he's awesome...what was I saying? Huh...
Disclaimer: Any and all Star Wars characters and/or places belong to George Lucas and Lucasarts. Chad Vader belongs to Aaron Yonda and Matt Sloan from blamesociety...huh, weird names...anyways, he's not an O/C. He deserves his own talkshow...which I think he has...
Chapter 1: Doppelganger
A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…
In a dark corner of the city, on an obscure planet, a light flickered to life. The crude torch was the only source of light available in the dank and musty room, but it'll have to do. Mytha busied herself by collecting what clean linens there were available, and set about preparing the hot water. She looked back at the sweat-racked figure lying in the middle of the room, and sadly shook her head.
The birth of a child was supposed to be a time of celebration, to welcome a new life brought into the universe. But for the life of a slave, it brought nothing but hardships. It was a miracle in itself that the Master had even allowed the birthing in the first place. Most other masters would simply kill the girl, to avoid the trouble. Maybe it was fate that brought the girl to a master who allowed her to raise a life of her own, who even allowed them to use this simple storage room for the birthing.
A loud moan brought Mytha to her senses has she kneeled next to the would-be mother, her small frame shaking with labor-induced pains. It was almost time. Mytha gathered the blankets and spread them around the legs. She did her best to comfort the girl with soothing tones, helping her breathe, in, out, in, out.
The whole process was a tiresome task, but finally, it came; a red and wrinkly baby boy. It came kicking and screaming, breathing in its first gulps of air, and unbeknownst to Mytha, the Force sang with it. She gently washed the babe and wrapped it in a towel, handing it to its tired mother. She smiled a smile only a mother could have when seeing her child for the first time.
The newly-made mother whispered a name, and the Force shivered.
Mytha got ready to receive the placenta. The girl was having another set of contractions so it should be out soon…
…But what came out was not the bloody sack, but another red and wrinkly baby.
A twin.
Mytha held it in her arms in amazement. What are the chances of conceiving twins? She was about to give the good news to the mother, but the door burst open, and a large bulky human stood in the doorway.
"Is this just about over yet? I need the room for- Kriffin' hells, what is that smell?" A hand flew to his nose to block it from the bloody scent.
"We need just a half hour more and then I can clean up the mess." Said Mytha matter-of-factly. Apparently, her master didn't understand the time-consuming qualities of child-birth.
The man took notice of the infant in her arms, and also its twin, who was currently dozing with its exhausted mother.
"Why are there two of them? I thought she was the only one pregnant? Don't tell me you popped one out as well?"
Mytha nearly sighed in exasperation. "No sir, this is not mine. She bore twins."
"Well I can't afford to go around payin' for two brats at this place!" Exclaimed the man. "Sell that one off as soon as you are able. At least then I can make a profit out of all this." He then stalked off, muttering about the high costs of females and kids.
Mytha looked down at the babe she carried in her arms. How cruel Fate was to separate these two. Though it would have been impossible for the girl to care for both of them, no child should ever be parted like this. The only silver lining was that the girl does not yet know of the existence of her second son. Mytha guiltily picked up her com and called for another servant to come and pick up the child. Hopefully he will be able to find a better place than his brother and mother.
Twenty-eight Years Later…
A Dark Lord stood at the fore of his dark throne, looking out at his empire of frigid space. Ensigns and lieutenants alike trembled before him, struggling to focus on their work as waves of palpable anger emanated from their commander. Darth Vader was in a bad mood.
A lot of things can put the Sith Lord in a bad mood: Untidy work areas, useless subordinates, Jedi (more specifically Obi-Wan), Palpatine, this blasted suit, the mere thought of her.
But today his anger was not directed at any of these factors. No, it was the simple act of being here that frustrated him.
Why, why did his master think it was a good idea for him to come to this tiny planet, to quell some insignificant rebellion, instead of scouring the universe in search of Jedi scum? Vader convinced himself that it must have been part of some grander plan to teach him to harness his anger for the Dark Side, for how else was this ever-growing irritation going to be beneficial?
"S-sir? I-if you please, the shuttle is ready for you." A brave (or stupid) assistant drew Vader from his dark mulling and reminded him that he needed to visit the cretin in charge of this planet.
That was another thing that put him in a bad mood: Politicians.
If they weren't busy falling over themselves to grovel at your feet, then they were busy plotting your downfall. Their gaudy, egotistical, hypocritical actions always managed to turn his stomach…the part that was still organic. He usually left these people to be dealt with by his master, who reveled in that field. Vader preferred action, choosing to spend his times on the frontlines with his troops. At least he knew that the stormtroopers wouldn't stab his back the first chance they got. The only politician he would tolerate was…well, he preferred not to think about Her.
But, a mission was a mission, and he dutifully acted the loyal dog of the Emperor and boarded the shuttle. For now.
Stewjon was a small terrestrial planet, whose atmosphere was a breathable oxygen-mix and gravity was standard. It had temperate climate to support its grasslands.
The governor in charge was vastly different from the planet he ruled. Governor Alnor Merkson was a large, overweight man with a temper to match the Sith Lord's. He ruled with an iron fist, implementing rules where it suited him, and letting the people suffer for it. Any who crossed his path would find themselves lying in an alley, dead. When met by any high-ranking officials, he put on his best airs and did his best to impress them in his lavishly decorated manor. He also kept aside a few stacks of credits for diverting attention from any misdemeanors.
His was the sort that Vader hated most. His was also the sort that greeted the Sith Lord as his shuttle landed in the hanger of the Imperial outpost.
"My Lord Vader, I am deeply honored to have your presence in my humble abode-,"
"Spare me the pleasantries, Governor," Vader replied coolly, lacing it with as much ice as possible. "We both know that my presence here is anything but. I suggest you spend your time and Imperial resources on focusing on quelling the uprising, instead of wasting it on the upholstery."
Governor Merkson was slightly taken aback, "I assure you, sire, that I this little revolt will be stamped out within the week. In the mean time, might I suggest you enjoy my planet's hospitality?" He visibly blanched and stiffened as the Dark Lord's overwhelmingly angry attention was turned on him.
"Your planet? I was under the impression that Stewjon resided under the jurisdiction of His Majesty's glorious Empire, as does your ridiculously engorged paycheck. Your incompetence might have escaped scrutiny before, Governor, but know that as of now, any further ineptitude will not be tolerated." With that said the swirling black vortex that was Darth Vader departed, leaving in his wake a gibbering official and several terrified attendants.
Vader sat in the Governor's office, overlooking the reports about the insurrection. These cretins that he had to deal with were infuriating. They cared nothing for the welfare of the universe and only focused on lining their own pockets with credits and renown. He had no notion as to why Palpatine put up with them. As formidable as his reputation may be, Vader had not yet had the chance to truly solidify his status amongst these pigs, thus not granting the respect and attitude he desired.
After clearing the desk of unnecessary junk (expensive ornaments, handcrafted statuettes, golden-framed holopics of mistresses), he began the tedious task of sifting through the information.
According to the report given, Stewjon's citizens were not known to be overly defiant or aggressive. But due to certain actions performed by its current governor, the people were backed into a corner and had no choice but to voice their feelings. That pile of filth is going to get what he deserves after getting me involved in this, Vader thought darkly.
But he still needed a scapegoat. It wouldn't be in the Empire's best interests if the media got their grubby little hands on information that pointed to an inefficient and corrupt government (however true it might be) and more would deviate to that ridiculous Rebel Alliance. And after the media was appeased and the image of the Empire preserved, a certain Governor would find himself in an unfortunate accident that involved a crushed larynx.
Darth Vader flipped through the images of the rebel insurgents, hoping to weed out a suitable 'volunteer'. Quite a few people had flocked to their cause, gathering in crowds and listening to them ramble about-,
Vader's hands nearly slipped from the desk as he jerked forward, shocked by what he saw.
There! Standing on the stage of a rebel protest, off to the side but noticeable as day was…himself.
A strong set face that managed to look gentle and fierce all at once, framed by a crown of wavy locks. The stance of a warrior, tall and proud, awing any who saw him. A set of eyes that pierced through the soul.
For the first time in eight years, the whooshing sound of his breathing apparatus paused. He stared into the face of Anakin Skywalker.
But that was impossible! HE was Anakin!
But then he wasn't. He was Darth Vader. Anakin Skywalker is no more. He was destroyed. So why is he still alive? Because Darth Vader is Anakin Skywalker. Vader is Skywalker. Vader isn't Skywalker. Skywalker is dead. Was Vader ever Skywalker? Was he ever Anakin? Was he ever bright and hopeful and whole? Isn't he dark and angry and torn? Who was he?
Vader realized with a start that he was suffering from an identity crisis of all things, and cursed himself for his mental weakness. He briefly wondered if all Sith Lords with name changes ever experienced this at some point in their lives.
He was Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, and Anakin Skywalker was his weak and feeble past. So who the stang was this?
Interestingly enough, it was the eye color that gave it away. Anakin had blue eyes. They are the only things left of Anakin, Vader thought bitterly. The impostor had brown eyes. For some reason, that irritated him greatly. If they had the gall to impersonate him, then they could have at least done their research. It will make their punishment all the sweeter.
Just then, a terrified Merkson burst through the doors of the office.
"M-my lord Vader! The insurgents are gathered at the gates! They plan to storm the manor!"
Vader looked on with disinterest. "I fail to see the problem with that. Have your troops dispatched-"
"M-my lord, they say they have a J-Jedi with them!"
Darth Vader stood immediately, hands clutching his lightsaber. "So their leader has shown himself," he growled, "Have your troops surround the rebels. I plan to meet them head on." He will expose this impostor for what he was, and set an example of him in the most excruciating way possible. With a swirl of his cape, Vader departed with murderous intent.
They said nothing was going to happen. They said all he needed to do was stand there and look heroic. It'll be fine, they said. Nothing's gonna happen, they said. There was no way in hells that the Empire would be involved. Well damn them, he says. And damn that Anakin Skywalker for looking so much like him.
Well, maybe he should damn himself for looking like Skywalker. And maybe he should go throttle Owen for telling them about him and who he goddamned resembled.
Chad cursed in every dialect he knew, including binary, as white-armored stormtroopers surrounded them. He should have minded his own business; he was in hiding, after all. None of this would have happened if he'd just kept his head down and refused.
But their request sparked an old fantasy, one of honor and bravery and heroics. Becoming the 'Hero with No Fear'. Anakin Skywalker, whose prowess knew no bounds, a person whose very name invoked admiration and wonder in the hearts of billions. Even with the Imperial propaganda who slandered his name and undermined his reputation, those that lived through the Clone Wars still remembered his legendary skills, death-defying rescues, and awe-inspiring actions.
Back then he was always on the receiving end of double-takes, shocked second-glances, and requests for autographs. Many would ask how it was possible for them to be so similar, and he'd say they couldn't be more wrong.
How could he ever compare to Anakin Skywalker? How could he be the same as the 'Hero with No Fear'? He was cowardly, weak, and could never hold his own in a fight. Back then he'd wonder how it was that they looked so alike. A clone? A doppelganger? Coincidence? But something had told him, deep down, that it was much more than that. And that gave him hope to at least try to be brave, try to be strong, learn how to defend himself. But where he came from, hopes like that were dangerous, and only landed him with beatings.
Now? Now who gives a damn? The Jedi are labeled as traitors, and Skywalker the biggest traitor of them all. He tried to kill the Emperor, and was cut down by the new 'Hero', Darth Vader.
And now, because he answered the call of duty, he was staring at the Dark Lord of the Sith. Kriffin' hells.
Chad had never been more scared in his life. He'd heard tales of what the Empire did to Jedi, and it gave him night terrors for weeks. And here he was, boldly proclaiming to be the Empire's greatest enemy, right in front of Death personified.
Vader observed the man in front of him, taking note of his features. He could sense that he was frightened, yet he hid it well. Possibly to keep up his image. There wasn't the slightest trace of a Force signature so it was obvious this man was a fake. Still, it was incredible that these rebels managed to find someone who looked so much like Skywalker. He wondered how he managed to get himself to look like that, and briefly toyed with the idea of providing the same treatment for himself. There was no way this resemblance could be natural. Not to him. To Skywalker. Nevertheless, these rebels needed to be taught a lesson.
"What is your name?" he asked, voice as black as his mask.
"Anakin Skywalker." The man tumbled to the ground as Vader backhanded him.
"That is your only warning. What is your name?" Vader growled again, anger seeping into his voice. The man struggled to stand, then sighed as resignation overcame him.
"Chad."
"Your surname?"
"Don't have one." He flinched, expecting another blow. Vader frowned.
"Are you or have you ever been in contact with a Jedi?"
"No." Replied the man, eyes downcast.
"Then I have no more use for you. Lock him and the rest in a holding cell. I will interrogate them at my leisure." The troopers acknowledged their orders and herded the rebels away.
Vader stood there, silent, trying to banish the forgotten memories that swirled within his mind. Seeing his late visage stirred up the buried history of his past, along with emotions he thought to have long disappeared. Usually he would have executed the man right then and there, to terrify the rest into submission. The fact that he posed as a Jedi would have warranted him a death sentence. So why did he choose to let him be? Strangely, he felt no anger, no hot fury that would usually have risen at the mere sight of a Jedi, fake or not. He was simply, curious.
No matter. This mission was over. All that's left to be done was to root out any other existing factions and hold a public trial. Then the rebel's fate would be sealed. But first he needed to see a medical droid about the stinging sensation on his cheek.
The durasteel bars slammed shut as Chad was forced into the cell. He sighed again for the umpteenth time as the situation started to deteriorate.
The cell was a standard 8x8 Imperial grey holding pin, capable of containing up to 10 prisoners. Thankfully, Chad was sharing his cell with only one other person; the insurgent leader.
"I'm sorry for getting you into this." Dez Jansen muttered glumly in the corner of the chamber. "If I'd known Darth Vader would be here, I'd never have gotten you guys involved." He raised his voice, hoping for the others to hear him.
"It's alright, Dez," someone said from another cell, "we knew what we were getting into when we joined you. We've suffered enough under that bastard's hands. Someone had to do something. Besides, we have a Jedi Knight with us! He'll get us out of here in no time!"
Chad flinched at the desperate hope in the man's voice. He hated himself for what he said next. "Um, I don't know what to tell you guys, but in case you haven't heard, I'm no Jedi."
A tirade of shocked gasps and exclamations erupted from the surrounding cells.
"What? But that can't be! You're Anakin Skywalker!"
"You're the 'Hero with No Fear'!"
"I thought you were bluffing when you said that outside."
"You mean you lied to us?"
"Actually, your leader lied to you," Chad pointed out, "I just stood there and looked pretty."
"Thank you, Chad," said Dez, giving him a cold glare. "For sowing the seeds of discord and doubt right as we're sitting in the enemy's stronghold."
"Why did you deceive us, Dez?"
Dez sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead. "To inspire hope," he said after a while, "I wanted to bring you hope; hope that we can make a difference and change our way of living. I wanted you to hope and believe that we can fight our way out of this oppression and fear. Too many of us have been robbed by that slime, too many threatened, beaten, killed. So I thought, what can bring hope to us in our time of need? Who can? A Jedi. So when Owen said he knew a guy who could pull it off, I jumped at the chance. Don't tell me none of you were awed and inspired when Anakin Skywalker walked onto that stage. You'd feel the same if the real Skywalker was there."
"Yeah, and if it were the real Skywalker, we'd be outta these cages, instead of sitting on our backsides waiting for death."
Dez couldn't reply to that morose comment, and turned to Chad for help.
But the other man merely shrugged. "Hey, I told you this wasn't gonna work. No matter how much I look like one, I don't have any freaky-voodoo Jedi powers. You placed your hope in the wrong guy."
"You could at least act like a Jedi, you know. Being calm and optimistic and not a kriffin' nerf-herder."
"Well, excuse me for being a nerf-herder." Chad was getting a little irritated. "I'm sorry for volunteering to help your cause while putting everything at stake, including my life, in order to pose as the Empire's greatest enemy."
"Yeah, some job you did," said a man from the cell across them, "Leading Darth-kriffin'-Vader to our doorstep."
"That wasn't my fault!" Shouted Chad. "I was perfectly fine, laying low and keeping out of trouble, until you idiots showed up and proclaimed me to the whole kriffin' galaxy!"
"It's not our fault you look like a Jedi."
"It's not my fault I'm not like a Jedi." Chad's temper was rising. He'd never been this angry before. Before if he showed the slightest hint of discontent, he'd be beaten senseless, so he'd learned from a young age to isolate himself from anger or attachment. But now with the freedom to do so, he felt something stirring inside him, deep within.
"Well couldn't you at least try?" Pleaded a brown-haired boy. Chad wondered briefly who was stupid enough to let a kid join their group.
"What do you want me to do, open the locks with my mind?" He gestured wildly at the doors, trying to make a point…
…and to his surprise, the lock clicked and the cell doors swung open.
Everyone started in shock, including Chad.
"What the frag…?" He'd just spent a whole minute convincing them all he wasn't a lightsabre-towing warrior, and yet here he was, opening doors with his mind. But that's impossible, thought Chad Maybe there was a malfunction in the lock, or the Imperials are messing around with us. They've probably got listening devices planted all over. However in his heart, he knew he opened the door, through some force unknown to him.
Dez wasted no time in dashing out and deactivating the other cell doors. The rebels rushed out and followed Dez to the exit. Chad had enough sense to snap out of his bewildered state and join them in their escape. As Chad ran with them, he noticed a change amongst the men. Those who formerly called him a liar and a fake were now looking at him with respect and hidden admiration, although a few were still a bit skeptical.
The brown-haired boy who begged him was right beside him, grinning widely. Chad couldn't help but grin back. He was feeling something he hadn't felt before; pride in himself.
Notes: FYI, Stewjon exists...in Star Wars. Guess its significance. I dare ya...okay I won't dare ya, please don't hit me. Hmm, it was really really hard writing that birthing scene...anyone seen 'The Miracle of Life'? Yeah...*shudder*. Chad might be a little OOC, but then again, this is BEFORE he lives on Earth, and works as a day shift manager. I'm sorry if the whole 'long-lost-twin' thing is soap opera-esque, but...yeah. Alright, dasvidania!
- Chindu Prince of Darkness