Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars.

A/N.: I know this chapter took a while, but its been hard to find time to sit down and write. On a better note, OMG the ending of The Mandalorian was the coolest thing I have ever seen! Go Luke!

Happy New Year my beautiful readers. May 2021 be at least a little better than 2020 and may the Force be with us all!

Jedi Hunt

Small was hardly the word Lord Menis would choose to describe the considerable military force that awaited him as he reached Cato Neimoidia.

He took one step closer to the Executor's viewport and his teeth clenched under his mask, observing the certified fleet that surrounded the planet. "Launch the fighters," he ordered, "concentrate fire on the Heavy Cruiser. And inform Coruscant that intelligence has under evaluated the dimension of the enemy forces." Well, that was an understatement if he ever saw one.

"I sense a plot against the Empire." He did, something was wrong about the scenery he was faced with. It was widely known that Nute Gunray was no military genius. Whatever power he held had come from his pocket, not from his brain. There were other forces at work there.

Lord Menis closed his eyes and delved deep within the Dark Side, its suffocating embrace encapsulating all of his being as he projected his mind across time and space and ordered the Force to show him his enemies. The familiarity of the Force signatures he sensed was nothing short of surprising.

Such was his luck; what he had expected to be a simple enough mission had just turned into a Jedi hunt; and not an easy one at that.

He opened his eyes and took a deep breath; this was not a battle he had prepared for. He watched as the TIE fighters engaged the mix match of fighters that had emerged from the enemy ships. What an extraordinary assortment of vessels; droid fighters, neimoidian, Techno Union starfighters. What was less extraordinary was the enemies' battle prowess. There were no strict formations and no clear communication between each of the fighters. It was nothing but a haphazardly makeshift squadron.

The imperial TIEs on the other hand moved like a well-oiled machine, fast and decisive, organized and meticulous almost to perfection.

A splendid sight indeed, especially for a man such as himself, who had always valued method and efficiency.

"Torpedo incoming!" He heard the announcement, but hardly moved as the Executor shook to its core with the impact.

"Shields are still holding!" The officer announced.

"All cannons fire on the Cruiser. We must destroy it, or we will not last long." Though the Executor was a far superior ship, it was still insufficient to take down one heavy cruiser and three dreadnoughts. He knew that, unless at least the Cruiser was down, they would not stand a chance.

However, to retreat on his first mission was absolutely out of the question. The punishment would be far too severe. He had no choice but to persevere.

"Captain, have you contacted Coruscant?" He asked.

"Yes, Sir. Reinforcements are on their way." The question that lingered in his mind was whether or not they would reach them in time. "Lord Menis, with all due respect, we should retreat."

For the first time he looked at his Captain. He was right, but he couldn't help the disdain that had taken control of him. The disaster that this mission was turning out to be made Darth Menis' blood boil; he wanted nothing more than to release his anger and frustration on someone. Ozzel was as good a recipient as any other. Lord Menis did not even lift his hand, yet, as he clenched his fits and called upon the Dark Side of the Force, he witnessed as his captain's colour drained from his face and the air was sucked from his lungs. "I will take that under advisement." He replied cooly. The remainder officers in the bridge attempted to avert their gaze from the cruel scene, but watching as man died always brought up a sordid curiosity to the minds of men; so they looked through the corner of their eyes. The Dark Lord could feel the fear in them, almost paralyzing them.

He released the man before his heart stopped and watched him slumping to the ground, gasping for breath.

"Order the fighters to destroy the Cruiser's shield generators. Intensify fire."

"Yes, Sir." He heard the voice of the Lieutenant. He couldn't, for the life of him, remember the man's name.

He watched closely as the battle unfolded before him. In a perfect triangle the TIE fighters flew towards the heavy cruiser's main hangar bay. Perfectly synchronized they blasted the shield generator.

"All cannons fire now." Lord Menis ordered. Before him the large ship erupted into eye pleasing fireworks and slowly crumpled to pieces.

"Engage the Dreadnought on the left flank. I will go planetside; cover our entry." With that, he turned his back and headed to the hangar bay, where the First Batallion awaited him.

The cloud of slightly acidic fog that surrounded him constricted his lungs. He coughed but returned his eyes to the sky again. He gripped his lightsaber hilt tighter in his hand when he saw the star destroyer above, completely overwhelming the small fleet that they had been able to gather in the last weeks.

The stench of the dark side emanated from it; he knew it so very well. He had always brushed it, toyed with its blurry frontiers. He had always felt a pull to it, maybe he had been too aggressive or unorthodox, as they called him in the Temple. But he had managed to stay rooted in the light, even though often his missions had made him have to pretend to be someone he was not.

Not long before he had almost succumbed to its allure, almost fallen into Dooku's trap. It cost him his position as an undercover agent for the Jedi Order and he couldn't deny that he missed operating from the shadows. But there was no hiding himself anymore, not after that mission, the one that had almost cost him his very soul.

"Quinlan," Luminara's soft voice called him and he looked away from the sky. He regarded her, they'd been together in Kashyyyk, in the thick of battle, when the clones turned on them. Somehow, together, they had managed to escape, even if with a few scratches and bruises. "Do you feel it? The Dark Side?"

Quinlan Vos nodded. He felt it approaching, its familiar coldness invaded his senses. Something foul was heading their way. That had been their purpose all along, to lure the Sith to them, to fight them and end them once and for all or, more likely, to die trying.

There is no try. He reminded himself of one of the first lessons he had been taught by Master Yoda, when he was nothing but a youngling. His eyes closed for a moment, wondering what had happened to the old Master. He hoped against hope that, like them, he had managed to escape the trap on Kashyyyk.

"One of us has to survive this." Sorrow laced Luminara's voice.

"If it means ending a Sith, I will gladly lay down my life." He would, he was still on that brink as he had always been. A mixture between a desire for justice and vengeance. The flash of pain he had felt when he sensed Aayla's death ignited momentarily within him. He took a deep breath, attempting to qualm the anger within him, the anger that always lingered, that was always prepared to rear its ugly head but that he had so carefully been able to keep under control.

Except then, except in that moment.

The dark side grew closer and he dreaded to think that he had almost become that, that he could be the beast in that fleet, that he could be the one kneeling at the Emperor's feet, that he was almost enslaved by him.

"They're coming, we must prepare." He said as he turned, the fog around him grew thicker as he walked inside, as if an ominous cloud followed them to their fates.

Luminara grabbed his arm, she pulled him closer. "One of us must survive. We cannot allow the Jedi to die with us."

Quinlan looked into her deep blue eyes and smiled. "So long as there is the Force, the Jedi will never die."

Lord Menis ordered the gunships to fire upon the scattered troops that surrounded the Trade Federation headquarters building; there weren't many of them and, like their ships, they were nothing but a makeshift army, composed of both droids, neimoidians and other species that had joined the last ditch cause of the separatists.

Well, not really the separatists, for the Dark Side Apprentice knew there were Jedi with them. An unlikely alliance, certainly, but he should have expected it.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," he mumbled under his breath as he watched the clones taking down the unorganized troops from the sky. The smoke of the bombs mixed with Cato Neimoidia's constant fog made it almost impossible to see to the ground. But he was never blind, for the Dark Side of the Force allowed him to see everything clearly. More clearly than ever.

Even before the ship landed, the Dark Lord jumped onto one of the bridges that connected the city together, his boots were immediately engulfed by the thick fog as he ran towards the building where he sensed the Jedi and their traitorous companions.

He took a deep breath and let the Dark Side of the Force invade him; he felt its power coursing through his veins, a power he had never experienced before. It made him feel invincible, capable of anything. It allowed him to forget his past and be oblivious to the future. Everything went away while he dove into that power, and the more he did it, the deeper his connection was, impossible to let go of.

Lord Menis swept his scarlet blade through the droids that crossed his path, like he had done so many times before, in another time, in another life. The same men that followed him before now ran at his heels, but they were different. They didn't chat or laugh, they were killing machines, all of them, and Darth Menis was no exception.

He looked up at the sky for a moment, the darkness of the night allowed him to watch the battle raging in space. If one did not know what it was, he would seem like a beautiful exhibition of light and fire.

The Executor had now the company of another star destroyer and he watched as one of the Separatist Dreadnaughts exploded and began its ultimate and flaming descent onto the planet; he also sensed the lives lost within.

Not long before he would have mourned them; not anymore. He had learned that it made him weak, for those feelings had cost him everything he had ever had. He had learned that he could not mourn; that he could not pity those who put themselves in the path of his blade. That he had to do anything to achieve his purpose.

What his purpose was exactly he hardly knew. He barely remembered that when he allowed the Dark Side to dominate him he did it to save Anakin and his family. But it dwelled in the back of his mind; the love he felt for them, for his brother, for his brother's children.

He put the thought away, stored it within the confines of his mind, alongside everything he needed to keep locked in to allow him to be the person he needed to be; the merciless Sith, the killer, the hunter.

Someone had to do it; what had he to lose?

He would bring peace to his Empire. He would end the war, he would do everything he had set out to so many years before; he was only taking a different path.

Wasn't he?

Darth Menis entered the Trade Federation's building, leaving a path of death and destruction in his wake. He looked back and he saw them, partially hidden by the thick fog that lied close to the ground, the bodies of the soldiers wearing an assortment of uniforms, the droid parts scattered and almost piling on top of each other. Some of his men lied lifeless as well, but, just like all the others, he would not mourn them, nor would he rejoice for them to have joined the Force.

He felt… nothing.

Which, in the end, was much better than feeling anything.

Wasn't it?

There were no more reasons to look back; so the Dark Lord continued his path into the building.

He looked around him, his footsteps echoed on the tall marbled walls and floors and he made his path towards the large double doors right ahead. Some attempted to stop him, all failed.

Darth Menis tightened the grip on the hilt of his weapon and closed his eyes, just for a moment, calling again to the Dark Side, filling himself even further with its might. He waved his hand and the doors opened.

What he saw did not surprise him, he had sensed their presence before. Two ignited lightsabers, one green and one blue, reflected on the marble and perfectly polished walls.

"Master Unduli, Master Vos," He spat and bestowed them a mocking bow. If only they knew how weak they were, how weak he used to be, "what a lovely surprise."

He heard his men behind him, training their blasters on the Jedi. Without him saying a word the clones fired. They didn't stand a chance; this was not like Order 66, they weren't being caught off guard, they weren't being betrayed by the people that they trusted, they saw it coming, not also with the Force but also with their minds.´

They were competent, both of them. More than competent, actually. He knew them very well. Deep within the confines of his mind he remembered being in the crèche with Quinlan, they had grown up together, quite literally, having been brought to the Temple at almost the same time, having been in the same clan until it was time to become Padawans. He recalled that his first trip to Ilum had been with him by his side.

But that was another life, another time, a time that no longer existed and those were memories of a man who was dead and buried.

Although he had known Quinlan Vos to be a man of far too many words, it was without an announcement that he watched him lunge at him with his emerald blade, a layer of anger clouded his eyes.

In the background he heard Luminara's voice pleading for him to stop. He knew why, he knew she knew it was a mistake to face him alone, he knew that the only way they stood a chance against him was if they worked together. She was the more reasonable of the two, the wisest and yet, at that moment, the most helpless. She was too busy with the clones to come to his aid.

Quinlan, on the other hand, always wore his emotions on his sleeve; he had always been quick to anger and lose his focus. When they were boys he was often told that he walked too closely to the Dark Side, that he was in danger of falling into its grasp and lose his path; that he needed to be mindful of his thoughts and feelings, that they betrayed him, that they could lead them to a place of no return.

So much unlike Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had become a perfect Jedi Master, who was cool and calm, who never put his personal feelings above the mission, who was wise and strong.

And yet, Lord Menis knew, that Quinlan had been tempted and had saved himself and, unlike him, the perfect Jedi had fallen and been swallowed by the pit of darkness that was now Darth Menis.

How ironic.

Their blades clashed, and Quinlan released a guttural scream; one that meant revenge, one that was filled with pain. Lord Menis knew of Aayla's death, he also knew the depths of the attachment Quinlan felt for his Padawan, he knew it far too well.

But, despite his rage, he was no match for Lord, not anymore, not when he was filled by the power of the Dark Side, for, unlike him, Quinlan had not allowed himself to be pulled into its grip, to be offered its strength. He remained in the light and that is why he would lose.

Lord Menis' technique was different; it was no longer solely defense, though it was there still, as impenetrable as it was before, a shield as strong as it had ever been. But now, when the time came, he allowed all the aggression that was bottled inside him to release, not only through his blade, but also through the Force.

The Jedi leapt over him in a graceful display of his prowess, which was considerable. He landed behind him and swung his blade, but the Dark Lord's was faster, he dashed his lightsaber blocking the blow and raised his other hand allowing the Force to flow through him. The Jedi's left hand rose to his throat and his mouth opened, longing for the relief of breathing. His strength waned and, even though he held on to his weapon, his grip loosened. Quinlan's feet left the ground as the Sith's hold tightened on his throat. Mercilessly holding on, he slashed his blade and swept the Jedi Master's arm, right above the elbow, and his hand crashed on the floor, still grasping the lightsaber.

Like Dooku had done to Anakin, so long ago.

Quinlan's eyes widened, but he was unable to scream.

Luminara did it for him. "No!" Menis heard.

He looked at her, behind the mask that hid his face he smiled, he did not know why, but he did, then he looked at Master Vos again and allowed him to breathe. He crumpled on the ground, grasping for air and holding what was left of his arm.

Darth Menis raised his blade, aiming for the Jedi's neck. He swung it down and yet, just before he hit, a sapphire blade blocked him. It took him by surprise, surely. Luminara had been busy with the clones. And he, stupidly, had forgotten how good of a warrior she was.

The Sith leapt backwards, preparing for another duel. She stood her ground; in true Jedi fashion she did not make the first move. Impatience grew within him. He attacked, her Soresu was good, but not good enough. And she lacked the brute strength that Quinlan had. Lord Menis kept attacking, Luminara kept blocking and parrying. But this was not her first battle and her strength faltered. She failed a blow and his scarlet blade knicked her arm.

Master Unduli fell but quickly recovered, and while she did Lord Menis contemplated the scene around him. The room had filled with destroyer droids, some shot at him, but he easily diverted the blows with his blade. The stormtroopers would take care of them.

His foe resumed her stance, a familiar one. One he didn't use anymore. Menis attacked once more, she was now obligated to hold her weapon with both her hands, due to the injury she had suffered. Her parrying was weaker and Menis knew it would not take long to defeat her.

She knew it as well. "Run!" She screamed, laying her eyes on her companion. He gasped in pain and shook his hand, tears filled his eyes. He could not fight, he knew it. And all of them knew the outcome. She was buying him time to run, like a coward.

Lord Menis could not allow it; none of them could leave that place alive. He hastened his moves, his blows were quicker but less precise, his anger rose within him, the dread of failure overcame him. Luminara kept deflecting, with great difficulty, but her technique was pristine.

"Go, now!" She pleaded with her Jedi brother. He shook his head again, in disbelief, waiting to watch what was coming. "NOW!" She yelled once more and his eyes snapped from the battle. Lord Menis watched as he grabbed his weapon with his remaining hand and stood, almost falling over. Luminara watched it too, she looked at him, and Menis did not miss the opportunity. All it took was a second, a moment of distraction, a failed move, and his blade pierced through her heart.

"No!" Quinlan's voice pleaded and Lord Menis removed his lightsaber from her lifeless body, it crumbled at his feet. He stepped over her, but, even before she did, the Jedi ran.

"Kill him!" He ordered the clones, but the Jedi was fast despite the severe injury he had sustained. The blaster fire rained on the fleeing Jedi, but the Force was his ally and he averted and clumsily deflected whatever blasts came at him as he ran deeper into the building.

The Sith Lord ran after him, but three destroyers blocked his path, their shields took too long to take down and while he leapt over them, deflected their fire and pierced them with his lightsaber, the Jedi was nowhere to be seen.

He was about to run in his direction when CC-2224's voice rang through his commlink. "Sir, we discovered the location of the Separatist Leaders. The blast doors are closed, we are trying to get in."

Suddenly he remembered his mission, to destroy what remained of the CIS leadership, to end the war once and for all. He looked at the corridor that the Jedi had entered but he stopped himself, a low snarl escaped his lips, but he stopped himself from following.

"Where are they?" He asked his Commander.

"Top floor, my Lord. The men outside tell us a ship is trying to approach. We don't have much time, Sir."

Lord Menis didn't answer and ran towards the turbolift. He could not allow Nute Gunray and the remainder of the Separatist scum to escape. As soon as he reached the door, CC-2224, who was hard working at opening the door, stood and saluted.

The Dark Lord did not acknowledge him and shoved his blade into the doors, cutting an entrance into the traitor's hideout. He walked inside alone, the cowards hid behind chairs and tables; their very presences reeked of fear and panic.

They raised their hands in surrender. Lord Menis did not accept it.

He killed them all.

At last, the Empire was at peace.