First off, I want to say thank you for your patience! I know this chapter won't be the greatest, but I hope you all will enjoy it all the same. I'm trying to make these future chapters longer so this story doesn't become a major chapter monster! :p
Just a heads up to all readers: In this chapter and future chapters, there will be graphic scenes revolving around violence and torture. I will try to keep them as toned down as possible, but still there will be some gore. I am just warning in case some readers do not appreciate that. I do NOT want to cause any triggering or discomfort! I want my readers to feel comfortable reading this story. However, after all the gory chapters, there will be some more cuddle, romance chapters. So if you like torture and brutality, great! If not, I just ask you to be patient. There are good times ahead for Pamila and Vader, they just have to get through this dark & dangerous time first.
Thank you to all who have commented, fav, and followed! : ) ;) I appreciate your support soooooooo much! Thank you!
Chapter 28
Present Day: Mustafar
No longer was he a man. He was a savage. Lord Vader had lost all control. Dangling from spiky chains above a lava pit was a member of Freedom with Blood. Sweat beaded the man's forehead. His face was a collage of colors. Greens, blues, purples, and blacks. The edge of his eyes, nose, and lips bled out in warm red streams. The points from the chain dug deep into the flesh of Vader's newest visitor. All the result of Vader's exhaustive interrogation.
No longer was Vader meticulous or calculated. Not once had he called upon the Force. Now he reveled in brute strength. He enjoyed the sensation of his fists rupturing organs and breaking bones as he pounded on the criminal over and over again. Vader basked in the groans and pitiful pleas he elicited from the rebel. Vader never was one to "give a beating", but he was just so infuriated, he couldn't control himself anymore. The only thing that could satisfy him was this barbarity.
Lord Vader had picked up this miserable excuse for a man from the Underbelly. Supposedly he was in close contact with Freedom with Blood's leader, Willmeif. Now Vader needed the exact location of their hideout. Also, news had reached Lord Vader's ears that is time with Pamila was known across the galaxy. Rumors were everywhere about him and his precious Pamila. Vader narrowed down the source of the leaks to somewhere on Eriadu, Tarkin's planet.
Vader channeled all this fury into the next punch he landed in the rebel's gut.
"I'll ask you again, fiend. Where is your base? Where is Willmeif?" Vader tried to keep his voice calm, but somehow managed to make the stillness of his tone sound threatening.
The prisoner hacked up some blood, spilling on the ground near Vader's boots. It didn't matter. They were already caked with blood from various victims. When the prisoner still didn't answer, Vader placed a gloved hand on a pressure point on the man's neck. He squeezed it with all the strength his mechanics could muster, which was significant. The man cried out, but still he did not release any information. After a time of excruciating pain, the prisoner managed to grin.
"Can you hear it?" the prisoner slurred, his voice barely audible.
Vader relaxed his grip, "Hear what?"
The captive's sneer widened. "The sound of your love screaming. Screaming out for you to save her as her bones break and her flesh is severed. Screaming out your name only to have it fall silent. You think you are a master of torture? This is NOTHING compared to what awaits your precious Pamila. Her screams will fill every hole in this galaxy and the next! All because of you! I hope her cries haunt you until you die!"
Vader was done. He dug two gloved fingers into one of the man's open wounds, causing the prisoner to cry out in pain. Vader pulled at the wound, causing extreme agony. The rebel prisoner shut his eyes tightly, biting his lip so he didn't scream. His muscles flexed, which only caused the spiky chains to go deeper into his skin.
Vader sneered malevolently behind his mask as he watched the man's pain. "As you were saying, rebel scum, where is your base?"
The rebel shook his head, "I'll never tell you."
Now using the Force, Vader lowered the pulley that held the prisoner's chains. The rebel's bare feet now barely touched the lava's surface. Now his screams almost killed his vocal cords.
Vader simply crossed his arms across his chest plate. He leaned his head forward as if he was listening. "Forgive me, I didn't quite catch that. Can you repeat the location again?"
The rebel's eyes were filled with tears of pure fear, desperation, and agony. Vader could feel the prisoners will begin to crumble. Suddenly, the captive let out a pitiful cry.
"Club AlphaNeon! The backroom! There! There! Just kill me!"
Vader smiled to himself, "As you wish."
With the Force, he released the chains from the pulley. The prisoner's whole body fell into the lava, his death screams bouncing off the black walls of Vader's fortress. And then, there was nothing but silence and the smell of charred flesh.
With that piece of business out of the way, Vader made his way to the hanger bay at an aggressive pace. His footsteps echoed menacingly in the dark passageways. Using a control on his belt, he prepped his Fighter for takeoff. Then he signaled Piett with his comlink. Never once did his pace falter.
"Yes sir?" Captain Piett voice answered obediently from the comlink.
"Prepare the Executor for my arrival. Set course for Coruscant. I have found the rebel base."
The captain's tone took on a touch of pride. "Yes sir! Right away."
Vader finally made it to his fighter and entered the cockpit quickly. The large metal doors of the docking bay slowly opened. Once they were, Vader sped his fighter out at top speed. He exited Mustafar's atmosphere swiftly, wasting no time in making his way over to the Executor. Once his ship was docked securely in the Star Destroyer, Vader made his way to the command bridge. There he saw Captain Piett commanding the bridge is his soft yet authoritative manner. However, when the poor captain saw Vader, his face flushed entirely. Vader walked toward him and stood akimbo next to him. Piett was instantly dwarfed in comparison to Vader's height.
Captain Piett's lower lip quivered slightly as Vader began to speak to him. "Has the course been set for Coruscant, Captain?"
"Yes sir. The ship is prepared for voyage as soon as you give the word, my lord."
Vader wandered to one on the trapezoid windows, staring at the darkness. Finally he had found them. Finally he could keep Pamila safe. He could save her the way he could never save Padme. He would be her monstrous saving grace. Finally, after so many years, he could finally be the man who saves the woman he loves.
"Launch."
… … … … … …
Present Day: Coruscant
It did not take long for the Executor to complete its journey from Mustafar to Coruscant. That was good. Vader didn't want to waste any time. Even on the bridge, his fingers seemed to dance over the hilt of his Lightsaber with anticipation. Despite what the populace thought of him, Vader didn't like all the killing and brutality. However, in this instance, he wanted to relish the fear in his enemy's eyes, hear the tone of anguish in the cries, and enjoy the sizzle of their flesh upon his blade. He wanted to rip them apart. Joint by joint, socket by socket.
Once in Coruscant's orbit, Vader gathered a small raid party and maneuvered them into a shuttle. It was low key, but Vader didn't need help. It was mostly formality. Vader took the pilot's seat, leaving the regular pilot to twiddle his thumbs in the back with the rest of the party. He set course directly for the Underbelly, not bothering with protocol or the fact that there was no official landing platform in the Underbelly. Still, he was not going to give the rebels a chance to run. He would land at the doorstep and slaughter them all.
Vader readied to land the shuttle in the closest open space near the club.
"Ready your weapons!" Lord Vader barked back at his crew.
Vader landed this shuttle with ease. As soon as the landing fins touched the ground, Lord Vader was already lowering the gangplank to let out the raiding party. Once the ship was stable, the party exited the shuttle, blaster rifles at the ready, the ends of the gun resting tightly on their shoulders, the barrels pointed at onlookers. Vader quickly joined them, the crimson glow of his Lightsaber illuminating the pavement in a reddish hue. His breath echoing off the pavement threateningly.
Some startled thugs reacted and shot at the troopers. They replied swiftly, shooting the criminals dead. They looked like they were ready to chase down more, but Vader's baritone voice stilled them.
"Leave them! They mean nothing. Focus on the mission!"
The troopers nodded apologetically. They resumed formation and trailed Lord Vader towards the club. No one got in there way this time. People made it a point to duck for cover. Before long, Vader and his troops made it to the dingy metal doors of Willmeif's headquarters.
Vader stopped momentarily, taking in the moment. "I have you now!"
One trooper readied himself to kick down the door, but before he got the chance, Lord Vader simply flicked his wrist and the metal door exploded inwardly. Stunned, the troopers hesitated before the entered the building. When they did, they found nothing but a dark empty room. Vader quickly followed them in, his breath getting louder and more intense by the second. The room was empty…spotless in fact. Like no one had ever set foot in here. Not a trace of anything! Vader did not think the rebel lied to him, he could feel his sincerity. No… there was only one explanation for this. Vader released a sound that approximated a bloodcurdling growl, causing the troopers to cover their ears. It shattered glass and crumbled cement columns.
Willmeif had been tipped off.
… … … … …
Two Weeks before the Club Raid: Imperial Palace
Sidious could almost hear Darth Plagueis's voice now. He could hear his dead Master's disapproving tone as he told Sidious not to let self-pride get to him. Oh, but why should he not? Everything was working out perfectly as Sidious had planned! Soon Pamila would be in Freedom with Bloods custody. Soon she would be tortured for all to see, causing sympathy for her and in doing that, would spark sympathy for Vader and the Empire. It would destroy the rebels supposed foundation of morality and ethics! And if Pamila survived, Vader could claim her as the tattered damsel in distress.
But Plagueis! Old, foolish Plagueis! How blind he had been. If only if he had appreciated Palpatine more, he might have lived to see the Sith reclaim the galaxy.
Sidious couldn't help but laugh at the thought, No, it's good he died a failure.
After that happy thought, Palpatine composed himself once more. He shifted mentally from being Darth Sidious to being Emperor Palpatine. He was in a conference room waiting for the spy Threllba. Palpatine let his body move a little slower, allowed his posture to appear frailer, and he clutched his walking stick tightly in false desperation for stability.
Mas Amedda popped his large blue head into the room. Palpatine smiled and waved him in. "Come, come. And bring the dug with you."
Mas Amedda didn't seem surprised Palpatine knew Threllba was with him. After many years of service, he was used to it by now. Soon, the one-footed spy hobbled into the conference room.
The Emperor took fake wobbly steps toward him, "Ah Threllba! I'm glad to see no other extremities missing."
Threllba snorted, "I'd like to stay that way, but that depends on what you're going to ask me to do this time."
The Emperor raised a silencing yet reassuring hand, "Nothing dangerous, I assure you. I simply wish for you to encourage to convince Willmeif to contact his… "source" on Eriadu. Tell him that your headquarters has been compromised.
Threllba raised a concerned eyebrow, "How do you know about the source on Eriadu? How…"
The Emperor raised a hand once more, but this time was more threatening. Palpatine's tone grew more menacing. "You don't need to know how. Just make sure Willmeif makes contact with your source on Eriadu and relocates his headquarters."
Threllba looked taken aback, but nodded hesitantly, "As you wish, my liege." He finished mockingly as he left the room with Mas Amedda.
The Emperor snorted. He would enjoy killing that dug later. Now he went back to being Darth Sidious, a role he was much more comfortable with. He meandered to a nearby chair and sat, a wicked grin crossing his face.
Poor, poor Pamila! So sweet, so unsuspecting, so gullible. Not unlike your former self. Even lightyears away, you are subject to my will and desires. Fret not, dear child, for the pain will not last forever. Lord Vader will save eventually. But first you must serve your purpose. Serve me with blood and pain. I would trust no other with such a mission of this magnitude! You truly are a special child.
… … … … … …
Present Day: Eriadu, Tarkin Manner
"And what do you call these ships?" Willmeif asked gruffly to the Grand Moff.
Tarkin regarded the small ships the rebel leader was pointing too. They were part of the supplies Tarkin had given Freedom with Blood in preparation for their upcoming "raid". There were over a thousand of these ships at the ready. They were collapsible, but when expanded they could only hold five people. There were fast and agile and could be armored with strong shields. What made them special was their frequency. Each one was identical to the other and the frequency rate confused most trackers, making it impossible to single out an individual ship. So one ship held the precious cargo while the rest acted as a mirage of decoys. Like a hustler's bar trick. They were of Tarkin's own design.
Tarkin smiled to himself, "I simply call them the Hive. They don't look like much now that they are collapsed, but trust me, they will do the trick."
"They better," Willmeif grunted. "I have been waiting a long time for an opportunity like this."
Tarkin placed a comforting hand on Willmeif's shoulder, blissfully ignoring the rebel's death glare. He let out a sympathetic sigh, "I know. Lord Vader has destroyed so many lives. The time for retaliation is long overdue."
Willmeif tried to stiffen his upper lip, trying to look tough, but Tarkin could see tears in his eyes. He changed the subject quickly. "Are all the other supplies ready, Mr. Grand Moff?"
Tarkin nodded, "For the most part. We are still waiting for some fuels cells and blaster ammo, but other than that, everything is accounted for."
Willmeif shuffled his feet like a child, "I guess I gotta thank you. I don't think Freedom with Blood would've gotten this stuff on our own. Especially not your Hive. And I still don't know how Lord Vader got our location."
Tarkin rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front his chest. "Vader has a way of making even the most loyal people loose lipped."
Suddenly, Willmeif's eyes glowed with a fierce fire, "I will be more than happy to rip out his heart!"
"Indeed," Tarkin agreed solemnly. "Tell me, once the girl is in your custody, what demands will you make?"
"Demands? There will be no demands. My only request is that Vader watches with open eyes as crush the woman he loves. As I take her away. Slowly. Painfully. The way he took my Sheela from me." Willmeif muscular arms trembled with repressed rage. Then he looked at Tarkin with a fury that almost unnerved the Grand Moff…almost.
"When can we leave?" Willmeif asked in a murderous tone.
Tarkin smiled evilly in return, "I think we only have to wait one more day. Then you can claim your vengeance. You may leave when ready."
