The screams of the dying and the silence of the dead followed him as he made his way to the center of the Jedi Temple. He walked slower now, savoring the sounds of his destruction. It brought a smile to his face. No one had ever caused this much absolute chaos before, not to the venerable Jedi Knights. The Heroes of the Republic. The thought made him sneer in disgust. Some heroes. He was just one man and had single-handedly killed most of the Jedi in the Temple. But not the ones he was determined to see fall. They would die slowly, realizing who had caused their deaths. He would make them writhe in his agony, the agony he did not know how to be rid of.
The council room was just ahead and he felt his blood quicken at the thought of what lay inside. He could feel the Force presences of several council members. Some had died in the Clone Wars, but the ones who hadn't would soon follow. Taking a deep breath, he snatched his lightsaber from its clip on his belt and ignited it. The crimson blade cast a hellish silhouette on his face as he strode to the door. Not surprisingly, it didn't open as he approached it. Sighing heavily, he reached deep inside himself until he located the icy core of hatred he once called his heart. He found the pain and anger that thrived there and forced it out until it displayed itself in a show of raw power. The door ripped off its tracks and flew to the side in a flash of hot sparks.
Inside, the Jedi Masters Plo Koon and Adi Gallia stood, their lightsabers glowing. To any normal fighter, they would have posed a formidable challenge. But, Anakin felt no fear in approaching them. He wore confidence like a shield even as they rushed at him, Plo Koon with his lightsaber raised above his head, Adi with hers held behind her in the style of an assassin. It was all Anakin could do to keep from laughing. Plo Koon lumbered like a shaak and Adi looked to weigh no more than an Ord Mantellian flutterplume. He moved toward them, brandishing his blade like a beacon and stepped quickly inside Plo Koon's clumsy attack, not even bothering to parry. Adi attempted to attack from behind him, slashing upwards with her blade, but he switched his grip on the blade and stabbed downwards through her leg behind his back. Her attack was cut short as she howled in pain, dropping to the floor. Plo Koon took this moment to drive forward again, his blade aimed to skewer Anakin, but he dropped to the floor, cleanly avoiding the assault while simultaneously hacking into Plo Koon's legs at the knees. He fell to the floor next to Adi, both grievously wounded. He could only stare down at them in wonder. Had they really once been his mentors? They seemed so weak, so pathetic. Slowly, pity swelled in him like a great wave, and though it had been his intent to leave them there to suffer, he knew he must dispatch them. In silence, he clamped down on their minds, dominating them with his own strength of will, and convinced their bodies not to breathe. Soon, their heartbeats stilled to nothing, and he sighed, releasing them.
To his chagrin, no other Jedi came running into the room to stop him. Perhaps, he thought with no small amount of irony, the Masters had been wiped out in the Clone Wars to a much grander scale than he'd first imagined. In any case, it was pointless to stay in this room any longer. With a long sigh, he walked from the room, extinguishing his lightsaber as he did so.
As soon as he did, though, he felt a presence, so strong it almost made him gasp. Yoda. He was close, very close. Taking a step in what he thought was the right direction, Anakin again ignited his blade and held it aloft. What it illuminated, though, gave him pause.
Directly ahead of him was a group of Younglings. They were younger even than the Bear Clan, most of them probably no older than eight or nine. Their tiny hands grasped low-powered training lightsabers and in front of them glowed remotes. These were all shut off now as they peered at Anakin with fear in their young eyes.
His master's words blared through his head. Wipe them out. All of them. How could he fight these explicit instructions? Still, these were just children, almost babies. Unwillingly, his mind flashed over to the image of his Padmé, her stomach stretched with their own, unborn child. Would that child someday wield a training lightsaber like these ones ahead of him did? He shook his head violently, clearing it of the unwanted image. When he was certain the image would no longer impeded his mission, he resumed walking toward them.
They'd clustered together, whimpering and holding hands. Though a Jedi was taught not to fear, these ones had not yet reached the point in their training where they could look Death in the face and laugh. Tears streamed down tiny faces. Small hands reached for equally small ones, holding on tightly. None of this was lost on Anakin, who again wavered, his lightsaber dipping towards the ground.
With a violent shake of his head and a deep-throated yell of challenge, he rushed forward, his lightsaber burning a crimson brand on the air.