Anakin's Dark Deeds

~Lucas King

Prologue -

Space, the vast and empty void. Not a sound to be heard, not a smell, or thing to be touched. Beautiful stars sprinkled like sugar upon the universes face, with Aurora and shapes of many different colors. It was impossible to count them all or even conceptually visualize all the blues, greens, and reds that one would see.

There was something, reflective off the light of a near by sun, only a few inches long and maybe two wide. It had strange designs of intricacy. And upon closer inspection, it was a lightsaber. Adrift in the vacuum of space, it was ever so dimly reflected off the light of the nearby stars. So beautiful, so perfect, yet so disturbed at the same time. This is the weapon of a mighty Jedi, to be in space, here, it was wrong.

But upon closer inspection, there was another. Darker in color, still clear this was another lightsaber. After another moment, two more would float emotionless into view. Soon, dozens came like in a wave. Afloat in space without a thought or emotion. Faint glimmers of light beamed off each one, but in a way, it was impossible to count, possibly a hundred here (if not more).

They yet made no sound, or noise, but there was something to each one. Pain and death, cried out from them. Screams of the dead still come throughout the mass of sabers as if it echoes from their owners. All were different, in tone of course, but in a sense equal. Screaming 'bloody murder' not physically but spiritually... their souls have been stripped away.

After what felt like an eternity, the wails came to a unison. It was odd, but slowly it morphed into a single word, as if each saber was chanting it with a demonic background.

"Grievous... Grievous... Grievous... Grievous..."

After listening, it was clear this voices were not naturally evil, but were made that way by death, decay, and destruction. Not by the Dark Side or the Sith, or even by the Jedi... by none... they just died... a pit of nothingness, even more horrifying to behold.

Even then, the sound would intensify to a splitting headache, the voices grow louder as this realization came at a dream...

An body screeched out from a doctoral operating table latched down by restraints on his limbs. Clearly with agonizing afflictions, it was so near destroyed it was impossible to tell what it was. By mutilation the terror was even at the sight of this abomination.

But upon closer inspection, past some scorch marks, missing limbs, it had a metallic frame. This creature, resembled somewhat of a humanoid, but mostly a cyborg. Cables sparked here and there, primarily from its neck, and it wailed more as black medical droids came beeping from their voice boxes. With orange glowing eyes they were at its sides sticking needles into their patient made of iron, pulling at the seared metal on his chest. It rattled and shrieked upon the feelings.

Now what seemed to be an anesthetic poked into it, this took a moment to inflict its course. But as the medicine did, the burnt creature fell back unconscious once more.

The heart raced so profusely it almost jumped out of their chest.It sensed, but could not feel, touch or see. Pain eclipsed it more from the chest and lower neck region.

This was worse than dreaming, a lucid dream it could not control, images flashed before it of times passed, clones it slaughtered. Jedi, he mutilated. Blood splashing and combining to form an ocean of crimson from their murders. Some had their head torn off, some by the ankles, some visibly had their organs and bowls removed. Most were slain by lightsabers, which was ironic as they were taken from the very people that once would have fought beside them.

Each time it came... the creature felt their pain, their destruction as if it was his own. Through the metal and to what little remains of his flesh, it screamed out from the depths of its mind... and physically too lying upon that cold metal table as doctoral droids stuck needles, wires, and rods into him.

Mind would slow for a moment with this memory displayed... less hazy, and more recent. Something stuck out to him... as if he could almost see in its own footsteps... touch what it felt...

A man stood with a brown cloak over his figure. He was in the rafters above where no one would take notice of him. He stroked his beard a few times, looking around to the tan walls and their intricate designs. Taking a deep breath and pulling off his robe, he leaped forward to the area below.

Landing on his feet, he smiled, "hello there."

Clicks of weapons turning off safeties and robotic limbs rotating to this man's direction.

Many similar models, the bright and short B1's, and the plated and dark B2's. But in the center, four lighter grey droids with glowing red eyes and metallic staffs stood encircling the larger one.

This other, tall, covered by a black cloak he wore except for his head of course. Dragon-like, its neck arched with wires and metal pipping. Sideways shaped trapezoidal ears flexed a bit from the sight of this man.

"General Kenobi," said this cloaked cyborg coughing intensely, "you are a bold one."

The cyborg turned to the other grey robots, "kill him."

Igniting their staffs, purple sparks came out of each end forming almost an electric appearance. Ambling towards the Master Jedi, he reached his hand up to the ceiling, grabbing the ventilator shaft above with the Force. Crushing the base, he let it go letting gravity do the rest of the work. A three tone metal box crashed into three of the droids, destroying them instantly (also sending sparks around). The fourth, having its legs crushed by the end of the crash, desperately struggled for its staff which was barely out of arms reach.

Kenobi wasted no time with a clean strike that severed the droid in half, immediately killing it.

All the B2's, and B1's snapped their rifles like gears towards the Jedi. They had encircled him, to which the huge metal cyborg held up his hand, which surprisingly had six fingers.

"Back away!" The synthetic tone to his voice-box was almost satirical, "I will deal with this Jedi slime, myself."

"Your move," said Kenobi with a grin.

Arching up its robotics, the pin to it's cape unclipped, falling to the ground behind and off its shoulders. Tan and faded body in view, all was metal except for the green limp sack of organs in the center of its body.

Chuckling once, the creature cocked its head up, "you fool, I've been trained in your Jedi arts, by Count Dooku."

Strangely enough, the moment the word 'Dooku' was uttered, the scene began to change... contorting in a way. This perverted dream shifted and the memory froze, with both Kenobi, and all the droids, froze in place. The cyborg except, stood proudly moving still but slowed down like a time lapse. Sticking out arms like airplane wings, snapped metal and attachments as both arms went from two to four. This, oddly enough was normal, but when the four arms split again from nothing, four to eight, something was off...

Arms kept spouting out to the point of no countability. Like a hydra's head, they were truly endless. Most would be horrified by this, but to seemingly the dreamer, there was no notice at all. The creature was focused more on the pain, rather than any other image. Yet with this, the pain was not a stumbling block, but a driving force. It Is Pain, and Pain is It, this is its the truth, that this cyborg has believed.

Speeding ahead, their footsteps sped up ten fold pace.

Fights continued and echoing voices of the dead Jedi screamed into his mind. From courtyard to the cyborg cowardly running away, the voices did not let up, from whispers to roars. Before he could even continue, he felt a pain, a strange yet familiar one...

Looking down to his chest, the feeble human stretched open his metal plates revealing his organs inside. Veering to the master Jedi, he cursed him a few times in the Kalee tongue before picking him up and throwing off the ledge of the brown platform Holding on for dear life, the Jedi hung over on the tips of his fingers.

The split second decision Was Made. Reaching for the E-5 blaster rifle, it hunched over before quickly grabbing and pointing it to Kenobi's dangling state.

"This ends now," it said.

Even in his position, Kenobi still grinned, "maybe, we might need to dance again, general."

Reaching out with the force with his other hand, he gripped the blaster and attempted to take it from the cyborg. Failing, it just clamped down its spider-like legs and held on. A couple shots came out of the blaster which only added to the sound of warfare around them. Most missed and went over the Jedi's shoulder, but a few, did land but not in intentional locations.

The cyborg glared up coughing a bit before his eyes went wide. Huge gas barrels with red indications started spewing flames out the sides. One could tell there was black burn marks from the blaster shots, which following, was unexpected. These flames turned to a blaze, which the general knew there was no other way. Robotic limbs came around as the cyborg made a cowardly retreat for his ship.

Kenobi seeing that the cyborg was running, he turned his head over his shoulder to see what was the problem. Immediately, he let go, falling down the canyon below.

An explosion of a huge magnitude came with a fire that consumed the whole hangar next to them along with the landing pad they were on. The cyborg, got out of the way, but it was still not enough. The black cloud of ash and burning gas engulfed him as he fell off the platform from the blast. Screeching a few times before descending below to the canyon below in a free fall (looking like a meteor from the smoking entrails behind him), this must be it.

It kept going, and kept falling as shifting headaches came back once more with a powerful blow, jabbing the throbbing knife of migraines through its skull. Bracing as he hit the ground, a gasp of air hit him.

The eyes opened green and pale like a reptiles, with expanding verticals shaped pupils. Dilated eyes again by the sudden realization of its own agony. Screeching again, it nearly broke free of the restraints which held it to the table.

A blue medical droid came on side of him next to the spherical black ones.

"The sedations are not working, use double dosage," the monotone and synthetic voice was almost condescending to a certain extent. But being a robot, it would make sense and was as emotional as it could be.

Spinning a needle around again, a larger sum of liquid was put through the brain of this cyborg, limply going back to a sleeping state he was in, again for another time.

The last thing it saw before his eyes went heavily asleep, was the same blue robots making an incision down the sac of organs in the middle of its chest, causing much liquid, which seemed to almost look like blood, ooze out.

Even if it wanted to fight, it could not. It's body was so numb physically and emotionally. It could not feel, sense or even want anymore. Half of its body did not respond, to anything. Touch, or even movement, while the other was screaming in only despair. The only humanity left in him was calling out, begging for the robotics to stop.

But there is was one thing this creature has adopted as ideology. The Flesh Is Weak. It will be replaced, here and now, in spite of his true form wanting peace, there was none, and he wanted none. It is to be erased...

Strangely enough, there was something about dreaming he fought against. Not like 'him' dreaming, but the idea entirely. He hated them. Within the deep black void of his mind, he would scream like a banshee to the black void that is the deep void of his mind. Not contending against the dream either, but something else.

He would continue to holler and pitch at the top of his lungs to the point of voice scratch. Even in a dream this mind is limited by itself.

"When will you learn?" A feminine voice called out almost a doubling of echoes or whispers came shortly after the main call.

But being unresponsive, he refused. After another moment, when the ripples of the first voice ceased, it called again.

"You call it vengeance, but did Kalee need vengeance?"

Now enraged, all grievous thoughts turned to anger, shouting out to this voice, "they let our people die, I will avenge them! I only live to see the Jedi destroyed!"

"What is this monster you have become?... it is not what I would have wanted..." she sighed, "not what the baby would have wanted."

"What?!" It huffed, "this is a Jedi mind trick! What lies are these?"

"Qymaen, I was with child, I was going to tell you..."

"Enough of these lies!" shouting, the tenseness of his mind became deep, hoarse, and thick. Almost as if his natural voice turned robotic and deeper, "the only children I had were enslaved and starved by the Republic!"

"Where they starved by the Republic, or by your ambitions to conquer?"

"I am what they made me! Dooku saved me from my own demise! This is the greatest thing I have received my wife! You of all should understand!"

Her voice now became soft and more saddened, "...The name they gave you, the shamans. What was it?"

He was going to speak, with his righteous indignation, but the more he thought about it, the more it came it him. It's not that he was wrong, or right, or both.

He refused to speak. Pounding headaches combined with atrocious pain beyond what any normal man could endure set in now.

He could not tell if this was his own thoughts or hers. But that question, from the words of his own wife... his companion... sunk deep like no other. Could even bare to answer her. This might be the mind playing tricks, or his wife came to meet him before death... either or, he could not face her. Even in his own illusions it was futile.

Her voice became saddened and soft, "the name..."

Sighing once, the name sent a river of guilt through his voice, "The Grieving One."

"Then forever that is what you will be... until you obtain serenity."

Something like an embrace left him, which then he knew this was not a figment of his imagination, but this was his wife. He screamed out for her to return, but to no avail. Normally, to sob would be the reaction, but for him... he shed the last of his tears years ago. This quick moment of sorry would quickly turn back to rage. Filling up into the small bit of a soul he has left, it boiled over to the point of his own voice started to grunt a lot.

Taking another deep huff, he screamed again back into the depths in his mind, "how could you not see the power I have achieved! I am General to the most powerful army to ever exist! I Am Power! I will destroy the Jedi! You hear me! Their death will be at my hand!"

For the moment he sat there and listened for a response, and hearing none, just the echo of his own tongue, and the whispers of the others in their dying screams, he let out one final cry.

Sitting up quickly, the cyborg veered to his surroundings taking in deep breaths. It hesitated for a moment, realizing what this means... he was actually taking in deep breaths. Wriggling his cybernetic six fingered hands, and spider-like claw legs, it sighed once before standing up off the table.

It began to feel. Not just move, feel. Touching more, it's own bright tan and fresh metal plating, even through and inside and gently grazing the green limp sac of organs, which felt strange. Numb still (very numb), but there was some ability to touch and not just stimulate from the brain.

Yet as it noticed, this sense as dull and quick as it came, began to leave. From the fingers and then to the chest, the creature started to grope itself trying to feel again, to no avail.

It yelled once, slamming its fist down on the doctoral table.

Immediately following, a blue robot came in, with limbs raised to the cyborg who was easily two feet taller than it, "please sir be careful, those are not easily replaced."

"What did you do to me!" The metallic warlord demanded.

"I was instructed to give you this message after your surgery," handing the general a small tablet, he pressed the power bar which turned on. Count Dooku, displayed on the screen, finely done hair along with beard. Added to what was seen was his metallic pins with special symbols clipping the brown cape together.

With an interesting grin on his face, Dooku would nod, "if you are receiving this message general, then I am dead, replaced by another apprentice."

(His upstanding and pristine accent was mellow and soft which is out of the normal)

"As you have suspected, my master was behind the whole war, as both the chancellor you kidnapped and the Sith Lord."

Grievous stuttered, shaking his head, he would have screamed, but the message kept playing, "your lungs, heart, and brain have all been upgraded and repaired for maximum efficiency... the final Separatist leaders are meeting somewhere for Sidious' new apprentice to slaughter. Defend them at all costs... remember general, if you fail, you will be crushed under the weight of the New Empire."

"Mustafar..." it mumbled.

"And if you succeed, you will be freed of service."

That thought, for the smallest moment, sent a shudder up the spine. Freedom? A sight he has never seen... or remembered anyway. It was so blinding and awe-striking of an ideal that it couldn't be real. This had to be fake. But something rang through what little remains of The Grieving One's soul, the possibility of peace. Serenity, that has potential to calm a raging storm

Back again, hey here we are after a bit. Anyways, starting up a new story, putting in a lot of effort into this one. Should be posting two chapters every 6 to 8 weeks a few days apart of each other, this one shouldn't be too long, but anyways. Next chapter should be out late some time next week.

(Reason why I posted in BOTH Star Wars so as much people see this as possible. I'm not follower hungry, i think this story is a good idea and what as many people to have fun with this story as much as possible.)

Hope y'all like it so far, I'm not one for talking, so here we are lol. As a sidenote I do add the title to a song that I think matches the mood of the chapter that y'all can listen to while you're reading machines the atmosphere a lot more.

I'm a deep person and I hope y'all like that.

Stay safe out there!

~ GR3Y H0R1Z0NS