Disclaimer: own nothing, I own nothing.
In honor of the Third Episode of Star Wars (which is FINALLY coming out May 19), Revenge of the Sith, I've decided to write a fic based solely on the trailer, which can be seen at the official Star Wars website. (just type in starwars and add a .com)
If you remind me of all the stuff I have yet to finish, I will Force Decapitate you, seeing as I don't want to be reminded. OK?
Well, hope ya like. Leaving the country now . . .
Chapter One
Devoid.
Anakin marched at the head of the army, the black robes of the Sith swirling around his thin form. The silver of the lightsaber, held in his mechanical hand, glinted with the same perverse, twisted light that glinted in his own eyes, the only light in his shadowed face. Behind him marched the troops, their white suits sucking up all the remains of light and giving back none.
He halted, signaling that they should remain behind. Then he marched up the tunnel, through a passageway, turn right, through another. He met a Separatist in the first room. Without effort, without emotion, he activated his blue lightsaber and, with a dancing, smooth motion, cut through the chest of one, than another. They died, burning, bleeding, at the hem of his black robes which swirled around him, shrouding him in darkness, the very angel of death come at last.
He stalked into another room, and another, leaving a trail of bleeding, burning corpses in his wake. Had anyone looked upon his face, they would not have seen satisfaction, nor exultion, nor even hate, or anger.
He was devoid of emotion.
One, an alien, held up its arms in futile defense. His saber slashed through them, straight through its chest and down, severing it at heart level. The thing collapsed, spewing blood. The smell of hot, freshly spilled blood and hot, burned, sizzling flesh tainted the air, filling his mouth and nose with every breath he took. Indifferent, he stalked by them all, ignoring their dying gurgles as blood poured over gasping lips and eyes widened in helpless denial.
There were no screams. There was no time for screams. Only for the hiss of the saber, the sick sizzle of flesh, the gasps and gurgles and dripping as the spilled blood pooled on the cool floor. No screams cut the air.
But their eyes screamed.
He did not care.
Devoid of any emotion, he drove his saber into the heart of a human, a Jedi. He stared into the wide, disbelieving eyes, heard the sizzle of flesh and the gasp of agony. He watched as the body fell, the saber slicing neatly through the body, up to the shoulder. The dead Jedi fell, oozing blood as it poured from his sliced veins and onto the metal floor, staining it, staining his killer's soul. Staining it black.
And, still, he was devoid.
Finished, Anakin stalked out of the halls, back to the troops, disactivating his saber in the process. He nodded to the captain, and they resumed their march.
Devoid.
This is to be four or five chapters long. Kay? Please review!
danke!