8
Emperor Palpatine sat in his favorite throne, drumming his thin, pale fingers. Closing his eyes, he immersed himself in the destruction and utter chaos of the Dark Side. Screams of anger and terror surrounded him, and Palpatine felt himself smile, or at least felt the muscles in his cheeks twitch, pulling his lips back. He opened his eyes again, and turned his throne to gaze upon the durasteel monument of his power.
Imperial Center stretched out beneath his circular window, stretching to the horizon in all directions. Skyscrapers competed with each other for space, and small craft wove between them, fluid lines of light.
All of this was his, his to rule and command, his to dominate. To think, the Jedi could have had all this, in all it's magnificent glory, but chose instead to serve! They could have ruled the way Palpatine ruled now, but chose instead to become little more then glorified policebeings. Such wasted potential…
The slight swoosh of his private elevator pierced Palpatine's thoughts, forcing him out of his Dark musings. The swoosh was followed by the clicking of marching boots, and then the sounds of a scuffle.
Speaking of the Jedi…There was a crack, and the sounds of struggle abruptly ended. Boots clicked their way up the stairs to the throne, and Palpatine smiled again. There was a thump, as though something heavy had just been dropped on the floor.
Silence reigned for a few minutes, and then Palpatine spoke, "Leave us."
Boots clicked away, and faded into nothingness, and Palpatine turned around in his throne again.
Anakin Skywalker lay on the cold floor, curled up in a fetal position. His clothes were ripped and the skin that was visible to Palpatine's calculating eye was bloody. A gash had been opened from above Anakin's right eye to his mid right cheek, just on the cheek bone. That gash was deep, and would most likely leave a scar. The eye in the middle of the rip, however, was undamaged. The boy stirred – nothing could keep the Chosen One out for long, Palpatine mused – and his eyes slowly fluttered open. He put a hand on the floor and raised himself up; shaking slightly from the strain put on long restrained muscles. He let out a slight grunt as his muscles spasmed.
How the proud do fall, Palpatine chuckled inwardly. A wicked smile pulled at his thin, pale lips, and he made a slight motion with his right hand.
Anakin fell, his supporting hand knocked away from under him. His head hit the floor with a dull thud and a hiss of indrawn breath. He lay there for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to control the waves of pure hate that were coursing through his body. He raised himself up again, growling.
Palpatine smiled and knocked him down. This was an old game, but one that Palpatine never tired of. Anakin would soon realize that the Dark Force could salvage his dignity, and save him, but until then…
Anakin got up…
15 minutes later
Palpatine let out a sigh of annoyance; this was getting boring. Yes, this game was fun, and Palpatine did enjoy knocking the arrogant Jedi down, but Anakin didn't react. Didn't react with anything else then a growl or grunt and a surge of tightly controlled hate, at least. That hate was good, but the proud Jedi needed to unleash that hate. The Darkness was so close to claiming Skywalker again…
"Getting tired of this yet, Jedi?" Palpatine taunted Anakin, his voice sharp and cruel.
"No, why? Don't you have anything better to do, Senator?" Anakin's voice was weak, hoarse, but mocking. There was nothing bitter about his statement. "Or have you lost your creativity? Perhaps it decayed along with the rest of your body."
Oh, bad move, child. "Oh, I can be creative, boy. I merely wished to stop you from untold years of agony."
"Again, I quiver in fear."
"Bravado is all well and good, but I will remind you that I know you have your limits."
Anakin doggedly pushed himself up again, meeting Palpatine's gaze coolly "You've been at this for what, two months? I'm not going to break for you."
Palpatine sighed, seemingly disappointed, but inside he was jumping with glee. "So be it, boy." A cold smile, dark as the night in a Naboo swamp crossed his lips. "However, there are other ways that you can serve me, rather than being my ally." One pale hand shot out, faster than a snake's strike, snapping a metal collar around Anakin's bruised and battered throat. He retreated before Anakin had a chance to attack, stepping back a safe distance.
Anakin reached up, eyes widening with surprise – but not comprehension just yet – and touched the smooth surface of the collar with one torn hand. A light started to blink as the collar was activated, and Anakin frowned as tiny needles inserted themselves into his neck.
"Skywalker, do try and catch this." Palpatine cackled as a large piece of equipment tore itself out of the floor and hurled itself at Anakin. Anakin glanced at the flying metal and Palpatine felt the first stirrings of the Force…
"AH!" Anakin tore at the collar at his throat, trying without success to rip it off. The equipment, unaffected by Anakin's attempts, flew toward the Jedi and hit him in the head.
Anakin fell to the floor, blood drizzling down his cheek, and Palpatine acted quickly.
He will yet serve me, though it is truly a pity that I will lose his tactical skills. Palpatine retrieved a small syringe from a hidden compartment in his throne, looking at the dark, toxic-looking – and illegal – substance within. The collar works well, and should not affect his heath the way the Ysalamiri do. Indeed, if the furry lizard-like creatures stayed near Anakin for more than a day, he would start to fall apart…literally. His skin would gray, become dry and peel, and he would start to convulse. The medics didn't know what to make of it, but Palpatine had his suspicions. Anakin was conceived by the Force itself – if the prophecies were correct – and in it's absence, perhaps his cells... it was interesting, and warranted further study, but that was for later. When he is mine without question, the collar will have to go. He is strong with only his muscles, but a Force-strong slave would be much better. That will not be for a while yet, I think. The fool, even if he doesn't know anything else, even if he is driven mad, he will know – as some others have – that I am the one who sealed him in his Hell. He will seek vengeance, and then he will be mine to mold. And then the son will soon follow, especially if I tell him that dear Obi-Wan and Padmé did this to poor Anakin. Palpatine strode over to Anakin's large body, still prone on the floor, and kicked him lightly with one foot. When the blond man didn't stir, Palpatine knelt at his side and gently, almost tenderly, lifted his face and inserted the needle into the soft skin of the exposed throat. Anakin's throat twitched and his eyes fluttered open.
Anakin felt a sting on his throat; sharp against the dull throbbing that had invaded his head, clouding his thoughts. He opened his eyes, and recoiled at Palpatine's proximity. With the hated Sith so close, Anakin could barely restrain himself from lunging at the man (if you could still call him that…) and bringing all the might of the Force to bear on the man's decaying skull, and black brain. Palpatine stunk of Dark power, a smell like blood and heated metal, which left a horrible taste in Anakin's mouth. Palpatine reached out with one bony hand and grabbed Anakin by his short hair, lifting his head. Anakin surpressed a groan as a wave of dizziness swamped him. He reached out for the comfort and never-ending flow of the Force…
He jerked as pain erupted in his neck and ricocheted through his body. It must be the collar…I can't touch the Force, at least, without feeling that. I've never seen anything like it…Well, I might as least try and show good ole Palpy I'm awake.
"Why'd you wake me up? I was having such a good dream. We were at your funeral…" Anakin did his best to smirk at the hated face that was far, far too close. Stars, I could be fifty klicks away and I'd still be too close…
"Oh, I do apologize in that case, child. I merely didn't want to miss this."
"Mind if I ask what the stang you're talking about?"
"Watch your language." Palpatine's eyes flashed a warning.
"Hey, you know what? Bite me."
"Oh, I'm going to enjoy this…" Palpatine's eyes flashed with a maniac gleam.
"What-" Anakin was cut off in mid smart-ass remark as a wave of anger and fear rolled over him. What??? Stars, bright yellow ones, began to fly around the ceiling. They turned into burning ghouls, screaming their rage. Anakin shook his head, and the world spun, turning crazy colours. Palpatine's face seemed to melt and the black of his robe mixed with the deathly pallor of his skin, which turned red…Then Darth Maul stood before him, looking as demonic as he had when Anakin had caught a fleeting glimpse of him, long ago. Anakin shut his eyes, screwing them closed, then opened them. Palpatine stood before him again, looking gleeful.
"I see it works nicely." The old man's voice sounded like a tiger's satisfied growl, when it sees its prey is trapped.
"What did you do to me?" Anakin whispered, seeing the room spin again.
"I injected you with a drug called Black Hole. This, child is your new existence. Enjoy." Palpatine, his hand still grasping Anakin's hair, sent a surge of power into the Jedi's brain, sealing the drug there. Burning it into the young man's system. So far, no one had been able to escape its embrace.
Anakin's eyes widened, surprise, comprehension, and rage fighting for space in his mind. I've seen people who had this done…oh, Force. Emotions warred in him, a million choices of action playing before his eyes.
Be calm…be calm…Run! Leave this behind you!
Screw this! Rip his bloody throat out!
One quickly won out.
With a deafening roar, Anakin launched himself at Palpatine, knocking the malignant ruler to the floor and grasping his throat with hands that were, in Anakin's vision, rapidly turning into claws. Palpatine sent a wave of Force lightning into the young man's body. Anakin went flying, but not before ripping a gash in Palpatine's face.
"You little bastard." Palpatine snarled, looming over the fallen Jedi.
Regaining for a moment a ghost of his former self, Anakin propped himself up and, ignoring the way the window behind the throne had turned into a mouth, calmly replied "Maybe so, but I bet you my dad could beat up your dad." The floor opened beneath him, and Anakin fell into blissful unconsciousness.
I know, I'm being really mean to him. I'm really sorry. Post reviews and I might just give poor Ani a break!
I NEED REVIEWS!!! cough, cough
Anyway…
Next chapter when I get enough reviews for this one! I just need to put the finishing touches on it. REVIEW!!
Have I mentioned that I like reviews?