Chapter 24: Culpa Lineas
CORUSCANT: IMPERIAL PALACE
Vader ran his gloved hand along the headrest of the vacant throne, his anger surging inside like a railing hurricane. He couldn't think straight. His heart was racing. The instant those words had left Padmé's lips he'd fought desperately to control himself. Battled to keep his anger contained out of fear of inadvertently hurting her. But the rage had consumed him. Thrust him so deep into the darkness that he could no longer see. And the shadows were welcoming.
Padmé suspected that his Master was still manipulating him, and Vader was starting to believe her. But he knew his embattled attachment to his Master and former father figure was clouding his judgement. What he couldn't fathom was, why? Had he not thoroughly demonstrated his loyalty? Had he not sacrificed enough to prove his allegiance to the Dark Side? His conflicted feelings regarding his Master and his actions were proving too difficult to reconcile.
Pulling his hand back, Vader clenched it tight, and turned to face the sweeping window overlooking the city. After everything he'd done. After every trial he'd faced. After every life that he'd taken; it still wasn't enough. He doubted if anything he did, would ever be good enough.
He wanted to tear the palace apart, charge down every tortuous corridor, rip every door from its blasted hinges and hunt his Master down until he found him. And when he did... he was going to grab hold of that wrinkled old throat of his and squeeze... squeeze it so damned hard that his trachea collapsed and he could no longer speak. He would revel in each suffocated gurgle and cough. Thoroughly enjoy every satisfying second, as he slowly, and agonisingly, crushed the vertebrae in his neck and ground them to dust in his fist.
A faint whisper stirred through the Force, and Vader immediately spun in place. He glared past his Master's desk to the empty throne room laid out below him. The whisper echoed again.
Descending the stairs, Vader strode for the doors and stopped when he reached the two tall black ceremonial urns sat either side. The whisper grew louder, seeming to originate from one of the urns. He stretched his hand out toward the one on the left and felt for the disturbance. The instant his fingers brushed across the smooth surface... a powerful blast from the Force violently bludgeoned him into oblivion.
Disjointed images strobed and flashed before his eyes. Darkness. Thunder. Pelting rain. His left arm was extended; his gloved fingers tightly wrapped around something. Something small... and slender... and deceptively fragile. Lightning flashed, and a face appeared where the length of his arm terminated— and Vader realised he was choking his Master. His Master's yellow furnace eyes were ringed with red, his wrinkled lips twisted into a sinister, yet knowing smile.
"You can never defeat me, Lord Vader," his Master's voice rang inside his head. "I made you. I bound you to me. You will always be mine."
Vader growled and strengthened his hold on his Master's throat; felt one of the bones crack. Lightning flashed again, and Vader blinked to focus through the blinding glare. An unfamiliar hooded face suddenly appeared behind his Master's shoulder; a long, noseless, leather-skinned visage of a Muun. But unlike the other Muuns Vader vaguely remembered from the Banking Clan, this one wore a strange mechanical transpirator over his mouth, and had the burning yellow eyes of a Sith. The Muun spoke to him then, in a deep, augmented voice that penetrated the broken chaos of Vader's thoughts.
"Do it, Skywalker...," the Muun said, emphasising his words through the Force. "Break free of your Master's restrictive chains. Avenge me... and free yourself."
And with that, Vader didn't hesitate. He flicked the ignition switch on his lightsaber, then rammed the thrumming red blade deep into his Master's chest. The Muun laughed triumphantly, and Vader was left stunned, watching on numbly as his Master's furnace eyes went wide and his wrinkled mouth fell open. Then, bare seconds from death, his Master unleashed an almighty, bloodcurdling scream: "PLAGUEIS!"
The scream so powerful; it paralysed Vader, and violently wrenched his mind free of the Force-vision.
Disoriented, still caught up in the after-effects of his vision, Vader backed away from the black urn and shook his head. There was a loud bang, and the throne room doors flew open. His Master was standing in the doorway, his hands clawed, dark power radiating from every fibre of his being. Allowing his own power to push out in contest; Vader glowered at him.
"You're early," Sidious snarled.
Vader folded his arms and stood tall. "You said by eight thirty."
"Indeed," his Master hissed. He looked to the black urn beside the door, then back to Vader. His sneer intensified, so too, did his anger. But there was something else hiding behind that anger. Vader sensed something new —something so tantalising, so invigorating— that it made his mouth, and his inner dragon, salivate. He sensed... Fear.
Cagily, his Master stepped from the doorway, his burning eyes cautiously fixated on Vader as he entered the room. Vader slowly turned with him, watching his Master slink through the shadows until he stopped by the foot of the stairs directly behind him.
"I trust you are well rested, my friend."
My friend... Vader thought with a snort, eyeing him. And so, the game begins. "Yes. But not so well rested, my Master."
"Ah, as it should be." Vader felt his Master's power ease back, and his own swelled out in earnest to swallow the vacuum. "I presume you took the opportunity I so graciously gave you, to become reacquainted with your wife?"
Vader nodded. "I did."
"And, how was she?"
He thought back on the many long hours he'd spent ravaging his wife's body. Padmé had kept up with him for the most part, but had eventually succumbed to exhaustion. Considering she didn't have the ability to tap into the Force for endurance like he did, he actually thought she'd held up rather well. Vader flushed at the pleasant memory. "Her stamina is impressive."
His Master cackled, immediately understanding his meaning. "I am surprised she had the energy," Sidious said, turning to ascend the stairs to his throne. "Especially after having to ward off that insipid Viceroy's advances all day."
That was unexpected. Vader blinked. "What?"
"Of course, it's no wonder he would be drawn to her," his Master said, continuing up the flight of steps, his long robe dragging. "Amidala is young, attractive, and has once already proven her progenitive capabilities."
Pro–jeni—what? Vader folded his arms and frowned. "What do you mean?"
Reaching the top level, Sidious stopped by his desk, sighed, then turned to face him. "Oh, my dear boy...," he said, shaking his head, his tone suspiciously sympathetic. "You don't understand, do you?"
"No, Master."
"Come closer, my son," he said, and casually waved him up. "Join me by the window and I will explain it all to you."
Vader stiffened, felt the edge of his new found confidence slip. Explain it all? Explain what exactly?
A powerful tug along his and his Master's Force-bond pulled him from his thoughts, and he involuntarily obeyed. Drawn like a magnet to his Master, Vader ascended the staircase and obediently took his position right beside him at the window.
"Look at them...," Sidious purred, gesturing to the transparisteel. His eyes were glued to the passing traffic outside, as if he were actively stalking his next victim. "Asinine fools... the lot of them. All busily living out their meaningless little lives. Every single one of them striving to leave behind something worthy of their insignificant existence."
His Master's glare darkened, and he snickered contemplatively. "After all, my apprentice... for what good is a man, if not for the legacy he leaves behind?"
Vader stared at him, waiting for the cinch-point he knew was coming.
"Take Senator Organa for example," his Master continued. "He is futilely fighting to restore that defunct Republic. Desperately seeking out his own legacy to leave behind." A pause, then, his Master let out a weary breath. "You see, Lord Vader... thanks to that barren wife of his; when the Viceroy dies, his bloodline dies with him." Sidious turned to regard him then, and sneered, the sickly yellow glow in his eyes dissecting and penetrative. "That is... unless he can find a suitable and available surrogate. One he can persuade into providing him with an heir."
Vader clenched his jaw and glared out the window. Organa was angling to seduce Padmé? Apparently even after being aware of who Vader was inside the suit. His blood suddenly ran cold. Why hadn't Padmé mentioned any of this earlier? Had he not been relatively calm and content all morning? Did she feel as though she couldn't talk to him anymore? Or, was she trying to protect Organa?
He fought the urge to pace. No, not pace — tear across the Coruscant sky in his speeder, charge into the newly constructed Senatorial apartments and violently bash down the Viceroy's door. And if Padmé was in there with him... If what his Master was saying was indeed true, then even she wouldn't be able to protect him from him.
Sensing his Master's stare still burning into him, Vader took a much-needed moment to compose himself. Blindly watched the traffic stream past. Listened to the sharpened hiss and rasp of his respirator. Then, he growled.
"But Padmé is not... available," Vader snarled, spitting out the insulting word with venom. The rage bubbled away inside of him, sent his already racing heart into overdrive. Ready for a fight, he unfolded his arms, balled his hands tight into fists and whirled on his Master. "Padmé is mine! She is still married to me. He wouldn't dare..."
His Master clicked his tongue, clapped his gnarled hand heavily onto Vader's shoulder pauldron —stilling him. "Yes, yes... you and I both know this, Lord Vader," he said, staring into his darkened lenses and feigning compassion. "But, he doesn't. As far as Bail Organa and the others are concerned... You are dead, my friend. You died almost one standard year ago, valiantly defending the Jedi Temple. Leaving Amidala behind in your death; a poor, defenceless widow."
Vader turned his head away, looked back to the window. He wanted to scream. To pull out of his Master's touch, pull away from everyone. To rage and yell and rip apart —everything. The dark hole he'd fallen into, suddenly grew darker.
"Your thoughts are on violence," his Master said sternly.
Vader snarled through his teeth. "Yes."
"You want to kill him."
"Yes."
Sidious sniggered and tapped his shoulder. "Patience, my friend. You will get your chance soon enough. But for now, I want you to accompany me to the Senate. We have business to attend to."
Drawing on the Force, Vader wrestled his anger back under control and fed it to the dragon, saving it for later. Then, he closed his eyes and obediently lowered his head. "As you wish, my Master."
SENATORIAL APARTMENTS: BAIL ORGANA'S PRIVATE RESIDENCE
A pregnant silence hung on the air. Inside of the cramped turbo-lift, Commander Bly, garbed in his Naboo Royal guard outfit, stood ready and waiting by the security panel; his two troopers stationed at the rear behind Padmé and her handmaidens. Padmè stared at her reflection in the lift door, assessing the gown she'd chosen. The floor length skirt was silver satin, with a black see-through chiffon overlay. Up top, a black brocade corset, accented with intricate silver chain-buckles and long open-shouldered bell sleeves, hugged her figure perfectly, protecting and disguising her still growing bump. The dress was dark, like her mood, but didn't quite say what she'd wanted. Padmé made a mental note to have Dormé commission a tailor later.
The turbo-lift slowed to a stop and chimed. They'd arrived. Padmé straightened, and readying herself for the impending confrontation with the Viceroy, assumed her Queen face, while Commander Bly moved to block the exit with his body.
"I will go in first and do a preliminary sweep, my lady," Bly said, glancing back over his shoulder. "Lord Vader's orders."
Padmé nodded. "Understood, Commander."
When the lift door opened, Bail was already standing on the other side, as clean and pressed and cordial as always. He opened his arms wide in greeting and smiled at her. "Padmé," Bail said walking towards them. Immediately, Bly charged from the turbo-lift, roughly pushing his way passed the unsuspecting Viceroy. Bail stumbled to the side, and the Commander barged into the awaiting suite with his blaster-rifle drawn. Steadying himself on a nearby wall, Bail narrowed his stare, his deep brown eyes following the brash officer as he scrutinised the apartment. "What is the meaning of this?" Bail demanded.
"Sorry, Senator," Bly called over his shoulder, not really apologising at all. "Standard procedure, Sir." He rounded the two sofas in the middle of the suite then curtly disappeared down a corridor to the left.
The Viceroy turned to look questioningly at Padmé and her entourage still waiting in the turbo-lift. Motioning for the others to follow, Padmé strode out from the lift, stopped beside Bail, and stared at him. "The Commander takes the matter of my security quite personally," she explained in her monotone voice, not reciprocating the Alderaanian's cordiality.
"So, I see," Bail said.
A sudden jolt surged inside her belly —a warning, she now knew. Padmé glanced to the two sofas, saw Commander Bly emerge from the left corridor and stop. The disguised trooper stiffened before the desk; his tall figure haloed by the early morning light pouring in through the transparisteel wall behind him. His blaster was raised, his attention firmly planted on two cloaked figures now standing directly across the room from him. Padmé recognised the figures as the two Jedi, and instantly understood the reason for the Commander's instinctive reaction. The three men stared at each other in stunned silence, Bly seeming to be weighing options; the two Jedi, no doubt trying to read the disguised trooper's intentions through the Force.
Deciding to intervene before things got out of hand, Padmé called out sternly to the trooper: "Commander?" and Bly immediately swung his head to regard her, the muzzle of his blaster still trained on the Jedi. "Are we clear to proceed?" she asked him.
Appearing conflicted, Bly looked between Padmé and the two Jedi, then finally lowered his weapon and nodded in response. "Yes, my lady. We are clear."
"Good. Then let us get on with this."
Bail led Padmé to his desk where he brought up the day's agenda on his datapad. "I have managed to secure a last-minute meeting with the emperor for late this afternoon," he said, going over their schedule. "Now we just have to wait and see if he keeps it."
"You don't believe he will?" Padmé asked.
"I have my doubts, yes," Bail said. "Palpatine is becoming increasingly difficult to get a hold of. It is not uncommon for him to defer requests for interaction to his Vizier. This is the most public activity anyone has seen from him in months."
Sceptical, Padmé folded her arms and frowned. "And yet, you seem to have succeeded where most others failed."
"Well, it took some convincing on my part. Amedda initially refused the meeting on behalf of the emperor, but soon changed his mind when I said you would be in attendance."
"I fail to see how my being there would make that big of a difference," Padmé said.
Bail raised a brow at her, but quickly shrugged it off. "I suppose it could just be a coincidence, but like I said, he has become somewhat of a recluse."
Turning away, Padmé took two steps to the window and stared at the Senate Building in the distance. Palpatine was not going to be pleased with her after today. Manipulators seldom did appreciate being on the receiving end of someone else's manipulation. But someone had to do something to ruffle his sithly feathers, to let him know that he wasn't in complete control of things. And in her current position, she was potentially the only being left alive in this Senate who could do precisely that. He would find another reason to execute naysayers, of course, but after today, he was going to have to work a lot harder for it.
After today... he was going to have to work a lot harder for everything — including his control over her relationship with her troubled Sith husband. "Coincidence or not..." Padmé stated darkly, "it's a decision Palpatine is soon going to live to regret."
Leaving his desk, Bail joined her by the window and gently caressed her arm. "Are you certain you want to go ahead with this?" he asked her.
The unexpected physical contact roughly pulled Padmé from her thoughts. She glared at the man's hand on her arm, then, lifted her gaze to study his. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, an expression that whispered of deeper motives; motives that appeared to be borne of more than his simple concern over her welfare. It unnerved her. She straightened and steeled her expression. "Yes Bail, I am certain."
The Alderaanian Viceroy let out a begrudging huff. "Very well," he said. "I have sent out invitations to the others requesting their support. Senators Danu and Breemu have both confirmed. Unfortunately, Mon Mothma won't be able to join us, she already has another meeting scheduled for tonight."
Good, a relief on both counts. She had witnesses for the meeting, and as an added bonus, wouldn't have to contend with Mothma's sudden superiority complex. "I'm sure we will manage just fine without Senator Mothma," Padmé added. "However, we could have discussed all of this at the office. Why did you ask me to meet you here?"
"I received word from Colonel Draven last night," Bail said, his voice suddenly going quiet as if afraid of being overheard. "Commander Delto and his team have returned from Kashyyyk."
"And?"
"And...they were not alone. They brought two survivors back with them." Even as Bail said it, the two Jedi had seemingly decided to finally make their otherwise innocuous presence known, and had started toward them by the window. Ferus stopped at the desk, motioning for his padawan to wait beside him, the older Jedi's expression tight and unmistakably serious.
"Not just any survivors, either," Ferus added grimly. He folded his arms and levelled a stare at Padmé. "But a Zabrak female, and a Jedi youngling who somehow managed to escape Vader."
Padmé bristled at that. Ferus made it sound as though Anakin was some deranged monster who specifically went out of his way to hunt children. And what was a Jedi child doing going up against a Sith lord anyway?
"Somehow managed to escape?" Padmé repeated, momentarily forgetting to mask her indignation. "Was she fighting him?"
"We can't say for sure. She hasn't spoken a word to anyone since they departed Kashyyyk," the older Jedi said, narrowing his stare and frowning. "What we do know, is that according to Roland, a total of four Jedi went down after Vader, and she was the only one who returned. We can only assume that the others are now dead."
A reasonable assumption given her husband's infamous Jedi hunting reputation. She hadn't asked Anakin about the fate of the Jedi he'd found, which in retrospect may have been a slight oversight on her part. Still, four against one... was it selfish of her just to be thankful he had survived?
"I am sorry for your loss," Padmé said honestly. "But what does any of this have to do with me?"
"The Zabrak female claims to be the wife of one of the Jedi who went after Vader," Ferus said. "She is with child, and is apparently struggling with the stress of carrying a Force-sensitive baby without him. She isn't doing so well, and is refusing treatment."
Bail turned toward her, and Padmé regarded him. "We are leaving for the base tomorrow," Bail said to her. "We thought that, well ...given your personal experience... you might be interested in coming along with us."
Leave Coruscant? Now? She'd only just gotten Anakin back, and he was probably going to need her support after she went and upset his Master. Padmé spun around to glower out the window, then folded her arms tight over her chest. Would leaving Anakin here to face the aftermath of his Master's wrath alone, be worth it to him, if she found out the location of the rebel base? She wouldn't let him attack it, of course, but at least then they'd be able to keep a watchful eye on it, just in case. She would have to discuss it with him first. Bail's heavy hand landed on her arm again and Padmé whirled on him, the sudden sharpness of her movement forcing him to pull away and step back.
"Padmé, I'm—" he started to say.
"I will meet you back at the office," Padmé snapped, bluntly cutting him off. She motioned for Bly and her entourage to fall in, then strode straight passed the two onlooking Jedi for the turbo-lift. Reaching the doors, she joined the others inside, turned around, and stood shoulder to shoulder alongside the Commander. "As for your request, Senator...," she called out, inclining her chin, "I shall have to take it under advisement."
The turbo-lift door whooshed closed, and Ferus and Caleb were left staring at each other.
"Please tell me that you felt that," Caleb said, tugging the sleeves of his robe down.
The older Jedi brushed his hand through the white-blonde streak in his hair and looked once more to the closed turbo-lift door. "Yes," he said, seemingly lost in thought. "The dark side of the Force is unusually strong around her."
"I noticed it the other night, too," Caleb added. Unsettled, he shook his head and looked again to his Master. "What do you think it means?"
Ferus sighed. "It means nothing more than what it always means, Caleb. We must remain focused and vigilant at all times." His master turned away and went to join the Senator at his desk, who was busily tapping away at his datapad. Caleb quickly hurried to join them.
"Senator," Ferus said, standing before him at the desk. "You forgot to ask Mrs Skywalker about whether she'd been able to contact Master Kenobi."
"I did not forget, Master Olin," Bail replied, not looking up from his work. "Padmé is under a great deal of stress at present. I simply felt it would be inappropriate of me to ask."
"Was she ever identified by the Jedi as being Force sensitive?" Ferus asked.
That got the Senator's attention. He switched off his datapad, leaned back in his seat and stroked his goatee. "Not that I am aware of," he said thoughtfully. "But towards the end of the war, she always did seem to know things..." He let his words trail off and fell silent for a moment, then shook his head. "What made you ask such a thing? Surely, you don't think...?"
Ferus waved a hand at him. "It's nothing, just a feeling. Forget I mentioned anything."
Bail rose from his seat and snatched up his datapad. "In my experience, Ferus, when a Jedi tells me they have "a feeling", it rarely turns out to be a case of nothing."
Ferus smirked at him and shrugged. "Well, Senator... there is always a first time."
SENATE BUILDING: EMPEROR'S OFFICE
Vader stood station beside his Master seated at his desk, his mind wandering, his attention drifting in and out, tuning in on occasion to the different conversations coursing from the steady stream of senators and officials Mas Amedda was parading before them. The emperor indulged them all of course, nodding, smiling, and placating them until the moment they left. His Master had tasked him with sensing their loyalty, but Vader suspected this was not his true intention. His Master was keeping him close for one reason, to monitor him.
Over the time since his vision at the palace, his Master had tried time and again to settle him, to ease the gaping chasm of his anger. But Vader found himself permanently on edge, on the one hand fascinated by the empowering sensation of his Master's fear of him, and on the other, crippled by his own fear for Padmé and the Alderaanian Viceroy's supposed designs on her. He needed to see his wife, to talk with her, to find out exactly why she hadn't told him.
"I fear your mind is not on task, apprentice," his Master said, speaking in an old Sith language that only he and his Master understood.
Vader didn't attempt to lie to his Master, there was no point. His Master would see through him, could always see through him. "I was considering relationships... the symbiotic nature of power and fear," Vader answered in the same tongue.
His Master made a clicking sound and steepled his hands together on the desk as the next wave of officials were escorted in to see them. "Ah... yes," his Master said to him, continuing on with their private conversation. "Patience, my friend. This will all be over soon."
"Yes, Master." Vader stilled and tried not to dwell on his Master's words, but soon found his thoughts wandering the instant this new group of visitors started to speak. He couldn't shake it. All of what would be over soon? Vader couldn't help but wonder as to what he might be referring. Was he talking about this meeting... or something else? Knowing his Master as he did, it was probably something else, something ominous, something not yet obvious to himself.
The last group of visitors rose from their seats and were promptly marched from the office. Amedda returned shortly after, alone this time, and stood proud before Vader and his Master.
"That was the last of them, my emperor," Amedda stated, his sharpened teeth glistening in a jagged smile, his twin gelatinous blue head-tail horns jiggling. "The session of congress is scheduled to commence in one hour. Did you wish for me to accompany you to the podium?"
"Oh, I think Lord Vader and I might go for a light stroll to pass the time, Vizier," the emperor said, glancing sidelong at Vader as he stood from the angular throne. "It would do us both some good to mingle with the masses. Wouldn't you agree, Lord Vader?"
Vader looked a question at his master, then, realising no answer was soon to be forthcoming, nodded. "If you say so, my Master."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
This chapter reminds me of the drums of war, the thrumming beat signalling an imminent threat looming on the horizon. It has been a slow build up, but the lines are converging, and the climax is fast approaching. One more beat on Coruscant before we jet back off into hyperspace. Coming up: the Inquisitors, an ultimatum, and a call to an old friend.
Thank you everyone for reading, and for your follows/favourites/reviews. I love hearing your speculations.
Please note, my responses are in order of review date .
Guest (review date: 11-30-21): Padmé and Vader are like magnets. On one side hopelessly drawn to each other, and on the other, strongly opposed. Luckily for them they are used to disagreement and have up until now, managed to find ways around their conflicting viewpoints.
Guest (review date: 12-01-21): Padmé is Vader's training kit. I like this analogy. Although she is far from infallible, her pacifistic nature is good at tempering Vader. At the beginning she may have felt strangled and suffocated by him (both metaphorically and literally) but she is now learning to understand what drives him and how best to cope with his often volatile reactions.
Previously, she would have chased after Vader when he walked away, (as she did on his ship back in Chapter 36: Inopinatum Morsus of Carpe Tenebrae, banging on his chamber door when he'd booted her out for her own safety) and demanded clarification on something that he'd said or done, prolonging their heated confrontation. Now she understands that he walks away to put space between them, in an effort to protect her from him, and has learned not to be upset by it. Vader on the other hand is trying to give himself permission to be vulnerable around her, which is extremely difficult for him to do. In his position, and stemming from his new core belief system, weakness is unacceptable and must be exorcised from the self at all costs. In my opinion, they both have a lot to learn from each other.
Guest (review date 12-01-21): My sincerest apologies for making you wait so long for the next chapter. With so many concurrent plot lines I tend to plan, re-plan, and plan again to try and make sure I don't miss anything. This along with brutal editing can make the process take a little longer. I am so glad you are enjoying it. We return to Syrennè shortly and will find out just what mischief she has been up to while her master has been away. As for grey Jedi nonsense (I had to laugh when I read that) please rest assured, you will find no such traces of that here.
Sfloresf: Vader might be possessive and controlling (possibly due to potential long established separation anxiety and fear of abandonment issues not adequately addressed by the Jedi), but deep down he is also a hopeless romantic. He loves Padmé so hard, and often to his own detriment. Padmé is learning to understand him and in turn is starting to understand her own protective feelings over him. She, like so many other women (and yes, for the purpose of this story, I am stereotypically generalising here) is drawn to the maternal need to nurture and fix, and this is clearly apparent in her reaction to him breaking down in front of her in Attack of the Clones. Up until this event, she is determined to deny her feelings toward him. Then, his mother dies, he confesses to murdering a village of tuskens out of grief-stricken vengeance, collapses to the floor in a vulnerable heap, and she finally sees him as the man he is, broken, hurting, and in need and crying out for help.
Vader admitting his fears to her is all part of his own character growth. He is trying to give himself permission to be vulnerable around Padmé, an effort he is making to show her how much he still loves her and that he is trying to let her in.
Sorry for the long responses, I feel pretty passionate about these characters and felt compelled to express it, lol.
Anyway, thanks for reading, and as always...
MTFBWY.