I haven't much to say. Edited 1/5/14

Chapter 2 ~ Getting Acquainted

They brought her into his quarters promptly and deposited her just inside the door.

The jaded general, upon noting that she was unconscious and bleeding from the head, dismissed his bodyguards with terse words of disapproval for their thoughtless actions. A mentally damaged prisoner was no good to him. How was he to extract the information he needed when they were reduced to babbling imbeciles? But then again, the sentinels were droids, what could be done? The scrapping of them?

It is not an idea above serious deliberation...he mused, But the old man would get himself into another state over that...

It was accurate, many, including his superiors, deemed the destruction he caused amongst his own troops absurd and riling. From his perspective, it was quite humorous: seeing their little metal bodies condense when crushed, or the constant spare parts lying around the halls and hangers. Yes, droids were the most obtuse creations he had ever observed, and for that matter led, and at this point, they had caused the great commander more stress than was needed for such a common situation. They'd had one job.

Now he had to delay his death plans until this she-prisoner awoke, and could be questioned aptly.

He paced back and forth anxiously beside the body, not paying it much heed. Pacing was something he found himself doing more times than not, preferring movement than remaining motionless upon his massive, robotic legs. Never before had he been forced to wait on someone in this regard. It was a rather ironic situation, really, having to anticipate a being's awakening when he would simply send them back into permanent sleep again after a few exchanges.

As he mulled over the incongruity of the universe, his gaze flicked to the comatose woman his guards had unceremoniously dumped on the floor. She wore a hood, but he knew right away what her race was.

It was in that moment that his eyes widened, and he took a shocked step back, stumbling only just.

He knew her race well. Far too well, in fact.

"This changes nothing," he hissed quietly, almost not believing what he was seeing.

She was Kaleesh. A two legged humanoid. His precedent alien race.

No longer did he place any form of faith in the former gods of his mortal life, but he was able to recognize when he was being told something, having long been wondering how the Kaleesh people had been faring. Gaining control over himself after the small blunder, he cautiously approached her, thankful for her unconsciousness for the first time since she had been delivered to him. Hunching over her, the only sound in the room the whirring of his form, he took the fabric of her cloak's hood between two sharp digits and all but threw it back. Underneath was the face of a woman past adolescence but not awfully far into adulthood. Subsequently, a thought popped into his head. If I were to tell her of my prior identity, the little I know if it, how do I go about explaining... He held up one cybernetic arm in front of his line of vision, examining the separate ligaments and wires, This...? he concluded with a short sigh.

And almost immediately after, he decided, I must not. She will not know.

Then came the question of the hour, to kill or not to kill? The indecisiveness appalled the cyborg general - certainly he must kill her! Or could he? Wicked though he was, and hazy though the elements of his mortality were, he could not help but shake the inkling that murdering the woman in cold blood was not the answer.

You cannot be softened, his thoughts whispered, and he said aloud once more, "Unquestionably it is the answer."

It was his job to eradicate her. He was made for such a task.

Shaking off any traces of sentiment, he stalked down the small set of stairs and lowered himself into the large chair in the center of the chamber. From that safe distance, he took the opportunity to study her, striving to fathom why she seemed so blasted...recognizable for some reason. Her face was familiar, yes, but seemed more refined than the standard member of the Kaleesh race; they, her facial features, that was, appeared less rugged, but he chalked that up to being without this sort of particular presence for an extended period of time.

That, however, did not explain the feeling of previous acquaintance, or the prominent ambience of peace seeming to radiate from her comatose person. He had not seen such serenity since...

Since what?

He could not remember. In spite of that, there was something memorable about her. Haunting even.

No! He had to push the thoughts out of his mind. He was a leader of thousands; mortal and perfunctory, and there was no way he could dirty his strategic record with such beliefs. This confusion angered him. He wanted to be in complete and utter control of his life, and no female that gave the impression of being faintly identifiable could ever impede upon that.

It matters not, he reassured, She still dies this day.

It was then, that he noticed an odd glint coming from her hand that he had not noticed before.

This, evidently, made him inquisitive that it might be something of worth, and he was quick to rise and go to the body again, but just as he was about to take it, her eyes opened.

...

...

She saw a monster, perhaps at one time a man but now horribly altered and mutated until nothing but the eyes were visible.

The rest was a mechanical array of immaculately placed armourplast; his heart and enduring internal organs enclosed by intricately positioned chest plates. Thrown back over the broad shoulders was a thick cloak with a scarlet interior. Inside, there was an assortment of weapons; one she knew was a blaster, and some other, cylindrical objects she didn't recognize.

His head - or what was left of it - boasted flawlessly proportioned engravings that ran from the middle of the grommets in the mask up to the back of the artificial skull. The base of it came to a pair of blunt points that harbored the many small devices that gave this creature the ability to speak.

What horrible tales did this pitiable creature have hidden from the universe? What had happened to cause his creators to turn him into this...thing? No man would give his life willingly to such a barbaric cause, would he?

A horrific thought came to her mind. Had he been given a choice? Many pictures of a decrepit test subject entered her head, but she quickly banished them, not wanting to humanize what was before her any more than was necessary. The bright, golden eyes glared at her from above with such a malice and hunger for death that even one that encompassed all the courage in the universe would be brought to their knees in terror.

"At last," she heard a synthesized voice say from behind the mask. "The quarry awakes."

She didn't speak to it. She refused to look it in the eyes.

He gave a low, flat chuckle. "I had much speculation as to if doing so would even be possible for you. You sustained an incredible head injury, from the looks of it." His accent was vivid, and the way his tone rose and fell made known his obscurity with basic. At this she raised a hand to her head and felt blood - ah, that would explain the pain she was experiencing.

She slowly inched backwards to give herself enough space to stand up, but the atrocious creature would have none of it - slamming his incurably clawed feet down on a fragment of the traveling cloak she wore. He leaned over her and stated evenly, "You wonder why you are on this vessel?"

A nod.

"Quite the coincidence, I think," he furthered, "for I too desire answers." Pulling back, he returned her personal space to her. "And so you will tell me why you are present on my ship, and we shall see what comes of it."

Her throat was dry and she could scarcely process her thoughts being in such proximity to the robotic being buts he managed to croak out, "Two companions and I were searching for someone. We contacted this ship before boarding and assumed we would be well-received once our intentions were made known, however, my comrades were killed. I seek only information, I swear it."

He tilted his head to the side slightly as if in understanding. "Certainly. It was only a misunderstanding, I am sure." he withdrew one of the cylinders from its place inside his cloak and held it lightly in his hand. She looked from there to his face as a wave of panic overtook her. "Unfortunately for you...your time has also come."

It was as she feared. They had only let her live because they wanted their bloody master to finish her off agonizingly. She stared hard at him, but he seemed too lost to notice. "You mean to tell me," she said, "that those horrible machines rendered me unconscious and delivered me to you so you could simply kill me?"

"Not entirely." She was able to breathe once more. Maybe there was hope after all! Maybe - "We had a nice chat, did we not?"

There was no hope at all.

A noise full of static rang out through the room. "General," a monotone voice joined in; the robot turned his attention sharply to the wrist of his free hand, "General, come in."

He pushed a button of some sort. "What?" he snapped.

"Your visitor is here on schedule."

Growling - actually growling - he said back, "I will meet with him promptly."

The young woman stood, wondering what all this could mean for her. She observed him, and he seemed to have forgotten she was there for a bit, but soon addressed her again, "My superior wishes for my presence as soon as possible. So"- he roughly grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door - "it appears as though you will be living longer than anticipated." On the other side of the door there stood the two machines who allegedly brought her up. They walked in, weapons held out to the side, virtually meeting the ground. Their leader gave them a disgusted look that was meant to be underhanded, but did not escape her notice, as he ordered them, "Take this one and keep her in one of the storage rooms until I settle on a reasonable time to execute her. She is to be given no food, and no one is to enter the particular room in attempt to speak or interrogate her further." He told them, then swinging around to face her. "Your gods have graced you with another day of life. Do not take it for granted."

With that said, he took his leave without so much as a further word.

As she was manhandled yet again, she determined to find some way to avoid the death sentence.

Whatever it takes…

...

...

He met up with his superior in good time, pulling to a halt before the elderly man. With clothes of the finest fabric encasing his frame, the human was a faultless depiction of wealth and precision. It was to be expected from one of such a wealthy descent, all the same, but the man was always so...overly done. His ordinarily arrogant expression was replaced by one of annoyance, empty eyes drilling his pawn with an undeniable revulsion.

"General Grievous," the man's deep voice was critical, as per usual, "You are late."

As the commander of the droid armies - courtesy of the Trade Federation - he was constantly reminded of his obligation to be early or perfectly on time to every wretched appointment and briefing that those of a higher grade than he formulated. In this case, it was only a simple meeting with the holographic form of the shadowy Darth Sidious, the one who controlled all of the goings on the Separatist side of the war.

"Forgive my deferment, Count Dooku," Grievous said just as aversively. "There was a slight problem that I was in the process of resolving, but it can wait."

He was given an even more distasteful look as the two of them stood side by side. "Well, let us hope it was as trivial as your tone indicates."

"I can assure you it was."

His superior turned away, just as an image of their master appeared on the small platform before them. Grievous's back arched into an insubstantial bow, his cloak falling forward around his figure as, beside him, Dooku did the same.

"I see you both have managed to be present - excellent." The Sith lord addressed them with as much enthusiasm as a room full of dead children. "Lord Tyranus, I trust your apprentice has secured her consigned world's loyalty?"

"Yes, my Master," Dooku replied. "She accomplished it much more swiftly than even I expected."

Grievous ventured a glance at him, aware of his sudden altered stance. There was no hiding his pride in the achievements of his apprentice. Dooku, was very fulfilled by the company of his - or so word suggested - atypical novice, Commander Asajj Ventress. Conversely, though, the Dathomirian woman was only around because Dooku, an aristocrat if there ever was one, never felt like defiling his hands over matters of war. Grievous had never understood what a little blood could hurt, but everyone was entitled to their own opinion, he supposed, just as long as it wasn't derogatorily directed towards him.

That could become messy.

He continued to watch the conversation between master and pupil, dulled by the subject. Yet still, he remained patient. His senses perked up when he heard the blatant word "Jedi" mentioned in their disregarded discussion.

"...and the General will be leading the attack when the time comes, I assume?"

"Well, he - "

Grievous cut in before Dooku could say any more, not knowing what he was agreeing to but charged nonetheless, "Yes, Lord Sidious, I will."

He targeted an equally smug look over at the human, eyes showing as good a smirk as one without a mouth could show. Sidious scowled, but said nothing further on the matter, and Grievous wondered secretly if it had been a mistake, if he had seemed overly eager.

Sidious went on, "How is your work with the droid armies coming, General?" Grievous only nodded to signal his success. "I expect that you will lead them well in the coming future."

"I intend to," the general assured. "What of the Jedi?" he brought the topic back fluently, "Have you any news on their standings?"

"I see that you have grown ardent to see them fall."

"Yes, my lord. I await the day when their esteemed order crumbles with much fervency. Is there any news?" He pressed, careful not to be too trying.

"From my...work, I have gathered information on their forthcoming plans, which you will receive in due time."

"Master," Dooku stopped their exchanges, "I do not mean to be injudicious, but do we not have more significant matters to attend to?"

"Certainly, lord Tyranus." Sidious centered his attention back on Grievous, who shifted recurrently, on edge. "General, your attendance is not required any longer. You may return to your duties."

"Of course," Grievous bowed once more. "I will not fail you, my lord."

Sidious smiled maliciously. "We shall see..."

Note - I can only hope I'm portraying Grievous correctly. Do tell me if you think otherwise :D