Chapter 1
It's amazing to think that in the absence of pain, no matter how short, how the more potent it seems upon its return.
What once would've seemed a mere discomfort now sends white hot tendrils of flame surging through my bruised and broken body. Pain licking at my open wounds, I writhe silently, vocal chords long spent from the previous, days? Weeks? I have been a recipient of Level Eight interrogations.
Could they not see the truth?
Vaguely, I can sense someone enter the cell.
"Ah, have you enjoyed our facilities thus far?"
Furan.
Once, I would've respected the man, but after this experience, the only thing he can expect from me is a slow and painful death.
Struggling to lift my head, I meet his soulless gaze with the azure fire of my own.
"The jewelry is a tad much," I retort, motioning to the grime smeared Force cuffs that bind my arm and legs, "And I think you would look much better dead." Spitting a globule of blood onto his newly shined boots, I grin devilishly.
"Charming," the Imperial grimaces, his gaunt face reminiscent of a predatory bird.
On second thought, I find that Tarkin is a more apt description, "Of course, I should be surprised to hear these words from a Jedi."
"I am no Jedi!" I hiss, unable to shout, and kneeling on the blood slicked floor, my legs too weak to sustain me.
"Then what were you doing with this?" Furan baits, holding up a familiar silver cylinder. One that hung at my hip constantly until now. With a flash, the blade roared to life, filling the chamber with a cerulean glow that shimmered purely in contrast to the filthy environment I found myself in.
"I stole it."
"Oh? And from who? The Jedi are dead!" The interrogator's face glares like a demon's from above the simmering blade, which I now found hovering at my neck.
"Obviously not, if you think I am a Jedi..." I swallow thickly, the copper tang of fresh blood welling from my ravaged throat as I speak.
"Ha!" Furan scoffs, "There is no point in denial now, your Order is long dead! Now, you will answer my questions truthfully this time."
"I have already told you th-" The saber now kisses my flesh before whisking away, as if it were the touch of an angel.
"What you told me is impossible! No one can accomplish what you claim to! Not. Even. A. Jedi. You obviously believe in the Force, to even try to pass off such ludicrousness!" The blade, once my greatest ally, tastes the flesh on my right bicep, leaving an angry red trail in its wake.
"How could I lie?" I retort, flicking a light brown lock of hair, encrusted with sweat, blood, and assorted grime from being in here, out of my face. Dimly, I notice the glint of several silver strands.
Force. Am I really that old?
"You've injected me with enough interrogation serum to kill a Rancor."
"Yet you will not break." Furan now touches the energy blade to where my right elbow ended in an interface plate. "It's a shame your prosthetic was so old. Removing it was practically a favor..."
"What can I say?" I smile bitterly. If there was one thing the Clone Wars couldn't beat out of me, it was my knack for witty comebacks, "I'm vintage."
Suddenly, the blade leaps for my face, gently caressing the scar over my eye.
"Yes," Furan supplies sweetly, his voice sharper than the weapon he held, "And like the rest of your kind, you will remain a relic of the Old Republic. A name in a museum exhibit perhaps." The saber is now searing my flesh with its warm nuzzle, of what could almost be seen as affection, against my chin.
"That's cute," I manage to meet the steely grey eyes of my captor once again, "Although I doubt the Emperor would want me in an exhibit quite yet."
"So you admit to having information on the Supreme Commander?" Furan sniffs, cocking his head slightly, "Because that is the only way you'd ever gain an audience with His Majesty."
"Oh, I know everything about the Supreme Commander." I state lucidly, the pain in my knees keeping me aware. "The Emperor knows me. Give him my name, and you'll see."
I can't help but gain satisfaction from the interrogator's reaction through the Force.
"We will see about that Jedi. Just know, as soon as you are exposed, and Lord Vader has returned, your life will be forfeit."
Oh don't worry, Admiral. I don't believe it will be my life that will be forfeit in the presence of the Dark Lord. But rather, yours.
"Just tell the Emperor that Anakin Skywalker requests to have audience with him."
Almost immediately, I am met with a slash across my chest and a boot cracking across my face. Unsurprised at this reaction, I continue to hold his gaze.
"You will regret ever revealing your name to me, Chosen One." Furan spits into my face as well. "I'm going to enjoy watching you die at the His Majesty's discretion, my only regret will not be doing it myself!"
In almost an inhuman perfection, the Admiral retracts the ice blue saber, and casting one last contempt filled glance, he turns and marches to the door. Pausing, he turned his head slightly, as if wishing to catch one last glance of the famed Jedi-turned-war-criminal, and his handiwork in bringing the legend down, before the door hissed open.
The cascade of light from the doorway reveals the full extent of the dim chamber. It was an ancient compound in which I was held captive. This cell was particularly horrid, a layer of corrosion seemed to cover anything metal, while sand, along with splatters of blood, sweat, and oil coated the floor around me.
"I suggest you enjoy your accommodations for now. They won't be this nice for much longer."
"Appreciate the warning!" I reply spitefully, my strength beginning to falter once again.
Apparently satisfied, the Imperial steps through the opening, a scarlet ray shield rising up behind him to discourage any attempt to break down the door.
I only wish that I was even able to consider breaking down a high security blast door...
Exhausted, and bathed in darkness once again, I lean against the brittle texture of the wall. The saber burns on my chin and bicep itching with pain, I slowly examine the damage to the interface plate on my right arm.
Just as I figured.
Running my fingers along the delicate areas of the prosthetic mount, I find a charred and melted hole. Right where the most vital parts were supposed to be. The damage done would take months to fix under these situations.
If I survive that long.
No!
The Emperor will take me back. He has to.
Not if he's found a new apprentice. One far younger and more obedient. The poisonous thoughts seep into my mind, corrupting my certainty on the situation.
Especially after your failure at Yavin... You think he will simply forgive and forget that?
No...
Instinctively, I curl up into a protective ball, covering my weakness. Much as I masked my faults during the Clone Wars. And not for the first time, I am eaten away with regrets. Looking back, I realize just how stupid I was. I had people there for me the entire time.
I was not alone.
I just made myself believe I was.
Sickened at the thought of what I had done those final days of the Clone Wars, I can't help but wish that my stupid self could learn the mistakes of his future. Without making them again.
Things were so much easier then... Force, they were even easier a few weeks ago!
It all started with that stupid dream, and that cave!
Although I am angered at the thought, I can only clench my remaining fist vindictively before losing consciousness.
A/N: Hi guys... Just realized I forgot to credit my sources of major inspiration for this story! I have to thank MZ-16 Z Jaeger and his AMAZING fic, A Second Chance, as well as Crush-Chan17, and her fic At Dusk's End (especially for this opening scene!)
