Author's Note: Alright, let's try this again but make it better this round! Welcome to the official remake of Rise of the Wraith and I dearly hope this one pans out better than the last. A quick mention that this story will contain both new elements and reused elements from the original, so if some things sound familiar there's a reason.

Enough for me, let's get this party started. Enjoy!


Every choice comes with consequences.

It was a lesson Master Yoda knew well, the venerated Grandmaster of the Jedi Order sat alone in his meditation chambers. He had learned much over the course of his many centuries of living and he did his best to apply such lessons to the daily goings-on of the Jedi Order. To the Younglings and Padawans he was a grandfatherly figure, coaxing them onwards with each new step taken in life. To the Knights and Masters he was a respected wellspring of wisdom, always able to see and learn things that often escaped the senses of others.

And now. In his wisdom, a wisdom garnered through decades of being a student and then having his own students, Yoda was ready to make a choice. Like all choices, he did not know exactly what consequences would come of it, he could not know if they were to be meaningless or if they would change the galaxy forever, but in his heart and with his venerated wisdom he knew that this was the choice to make.

He sensed a presence approaching his door, the Force alerting him to the arrival of a youthful spirit. The Force had a unique way of denoting who or what was around him, capable of discerning young from old, men from women and even species. With his abilities fully refined, Master Yoda knew exactly who was coming to him. He closed his eyes, loosing a simple telepathic pulse, a welcoming sensation that bade his guest to enter. As he did, he searched the Force one last time for clarity and guidance, for all that he was stemmed from the Force. Yoda would not be who he was if he did not have that all encompassing energy of the universe, the precious power that bound all things together, both the good and the ill.

His door slid open and his eyes did too. "You summoned me Master Yoda?" He offered a smile and nodded.

"Come, young one. Sit." He invited and she did so. In the light of his room, her skin tone was bright and cheerful, the galaxy's most vibrant orange found in one young woman. She was a youngling, a Jedi with no master, although the term seemed misplaced given she was fourteen years old… an adult by the standards of her own species. Padding softly into his room, she took a seat on a meditative cushion opposite him where Yoda appraised her. She certainly was a colourful individual, and being a Togruta it was to be expected. Her ochre face framed by bright white facial markings across her cheeks and forehead, her head itself encircled by the graceful curves of her blue-striped montrals and lekku, she stood as a testament to the Order's diversity and a shining example of an enthusiastic young Jedi. "Ahsoka Tano. Last of Clan Clawmouse are you." He noted. At once, the sparkle in her sapphire blue eyes fell.

"I know, Master. I-I tried so hard at the Initiate Tournament, I don't know why I was never-"

"Calm, young one." Yoda interrupted, holding up a three-clawed hand. "Blame you, I do not. Understand, I do. Unfortunate, it is. Much has the war disrupted." Ahsoka seemed to relax at his words. "Know why you are here, do you?"

"No, Master." She softly answered. Smiling a little, Master Yoda leaned forward to elaborate,

"Choose a new Master for you, I will. Send you there, to join the war, I will." Ahsoka failed to reign in her excitement.

"Really Master?" She asked, eyes wide and a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, revealing the razor sharp teeth behind her lips. Yoda nodded.

"To the planet Christophsis will you go. Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, heard from we have not. Find him you must." He continued. Ahsoka knew just who that was, Obi-Wan Kenobi being a very famous Jedi Master who had been the first Jedi to kill an evil Sith in thousands of years. His name was legendary and spoken in hushed, awed whispers among the Initiate clans.

"I will be Master Obi-Wan's apprentice?" She queried in awe. But Yoda shook his head.

"No. Learned, Master Kenobi has, the value of a Padawan. Yet to learn, his friend Anakin has." Yoda corrected. Ahsoka's eyes widened again at the mention of Anakin.

There was only one Anakin in the whole Jedi Order; Anakin Skywalker, The Chosen One. She was going to be the apprentice of the Chosen One himself, the dream of so many other younglings, especially the older female ones who fostered a crushing on the daring, roguish Knight. Ahsoka would be lying if she said she didn't have one too, something about the slightly-darker aura about him as he fought passionately and acted valiantly in the name of the Republic and the Jedi Order.

"I… Thank you, Master." She whispered, barely able to find the words.

"Ready, you are, for the trials to come." Yoda assured her. "Go now, young one. May the Force be with you."


Elsewhere in the galaxy…

Lab equipment hummed, devices chirped, instruments blipped in time with the pulsing glow of their switches and toggles. All of it was part of a far grander scheme, each and every one wired to a bacta tank marked with a custom engraving along the metal seal at the top that red A-31B, And in this tank, the body of a man hung suspended. Even though just a silhouette, anyone could see he was massive. Broad-shouldered, thick-armed, a toned body with muscles of impressive calibre. Every aspect of his being had been propelled to the absolute zenith of organic potential. Science had transformed him into the perfect man…

The perfect weapon.

Standing outside the tank, a man dressed in a lab coat watched him with a measure of fondness in his dark eyes. He was a Pau'an, short for his species, but a man of great intellect accrued over countless centuries of living. A masterful artist in the fields of genetic sciences, biology, chemistry and technology, he had earned the title of Doctor in every way possible. Doctor Pomel Sipio was looking forward to a lifelong legacy of renown and fame for his efforts in creating a first for the galaxy… a legacy that would begin with one simple choice. A choice he made gleefully. At once the bacta began to drain, hoses and cables coming undone as the tank announced the end of its use. The front door slid open and the man stumbled out, his enhanced senses and reflexes attuning three times faster than the average organic and allowing him to come to a rest on one knee before the Doctor.

Regaining his composure, he stood tall, his naked body glistening from the ambient bacta clinging to him. Sipio paused to appraise him, marvelling at his handiwork. "They wish to deploy you, about time, I say. We're already six months into this." Silence greeted him, the Pau'an expecting as much. He reached behind him, pulling a folded bodysuit from the table sitting there. It was handcrafted, made using synthsteel fibres, affording a very tough first layer of protection. "The Republic thinks their Clone Army is the greatest in the galaxy. They believe that Kaminoan science have created the perfect soldier, wrought from their 'perfect specimen'." He continued, chattering on as he helped the man dress.

"What they do not know is that I have singlehandedly rewritten the definition of 'perfect specimen'. We've done it, my boy. Together!" Soon he was dressed in a skintight dark grey bodysuit and Sipio then reached for a pair of black combat trousers. "The Clone Trooper will find himself woefully unprepared to handle this, my far superior specimen. They believe they can win this war. They think themselves cunning, resilient, deadly." The metallic click of a buckle filled the empty air of the lab.

"You… will be better." Sipio said, passing over a jacket overlaid with shiny silver armor plating. The jacket itself was blue, a dark contrast that helped the armor stand out better and make him look far better protected. For winning the war of the mind was the first step in winning the physical war. "It's taken just over a decade to bring us to this point. I have taken you from the depths to the heights. From impossibility to superiority. You are better. You will be better." He vowed as heavy metal boots, thick metal gauntlets and sturdy nerfhide gloves, the knuckles layered with sharp steel edges, were layered atop his creation. Flexing his layered hands, the man made a fist and a blade snapped out from the gauntlet, sharp and gleaming in the light of the lab. "You will show the galaxy what it truly means to be a soldier, a super-soldier." At last he passed over a helmet, custom made, a pair of vaguely-red optics creating a pseudo face engineered to instill a quiet terror within the soul of the beholder.

The man put it on, a soft whirring of mechanized plates sealing themselves shut and finishing the visage Sipio had crafted for him… It had been his destiny from the day they began. Once the helmet was sealed, the optics powered up, glowing bright shade of red deliberately chosen from a palette known for inducing fear in people. With a proud look, the Pau'an reached up and laid a hand on his armored shoulder. "You will go to Christophsis and wherever else the Separatist Council wants you to go. And you will show them that the possibility of a super-soldier is not folly… but a reality. And you will show the Republic that their superiority complex has all been for naught. For you are superior. You are a Separatist. You… are a super-soldier."