2: Window, Mirror
"Stupid report," a young Jedi said under his breath as the last words of his homework were typed. Looking out of his window, he thought of all the fun he was missing out on by being forced to stay in this apartment. He thought of what normal teenagers would be doing right now: probably playing games, streaking about in pod-racers, climbing trees and things like that. It all seemed so unfair! Why should he, almost a Jedi Master for crying out loud, be stuck in here?
"Stupid report," Anakin said again, this time nearly slamming on the print button. It was then that a faint tapping sound met his ears. Brushing a golden lock from his face, he turned to once again peer out of his window. Once he did, a startled cry emanated from his lips and he fell out of his chair is surprise—taking his computer with him.
What he had seen was a dark man with a large black helmet and a draping black cloak. The man breathed heavily and seemed almost entirely robotic. Anakin backed away from the window, about to cry out for his Master when he was engulfed in what appeared to be a static bubble and his room disappeared.
Surrounding him now was an endless sea of darkness. He could feel nothing, hear nothing, and see nothing. When he tried to move, Anakin found that it made no difference; he could not tell between when he moved and was immobile, blinked and had his eyes wide open. In frustration, he began to writhe and grunt. He kicked and punched (or at least he thought he did). But suddenly he heard that heavy breathing again.
Anakin stopped abruptly as the monotonous sound drew closer and closer until it seemed that its source was right next to him. A tense shiver ran down his stiffened back and finally, a cold hand was placed upon his shoulder. The darkness was letting up now and Anakin found that he had been screaming for his throat was sore and his mouth was wide open when he finally regained self-awareness. The hand was definitely that of the man he had seen... yet it looked familiar. With a cold shock he realized it was identical to his own metallic hand that he had received not so many years ago.
He rose his hazel eyes and found himself staring into the dark helmet he saw outside of his window. Swallowing hard, the young Jedi spoke.
"Who are you and...and," he could not think of how to vocalize his thoughts and questions.
"And why our hands seem identical?" the man finished with a voice like velvet thunder. Anakin nodded, feeling empty and somewhat helpless. He was released of the man's tight grip and saw that the infinite black around them was now a light shade of grey. Enough for him to observe the situation very clearly. The distance between the two males was about a foot or some similar, uncomfortable distance.
The man then turned away from Anakin, crossing his arms and sighing (which sounded very odd, like a pod-racer engine finally running out of steam). Anakin instinctively reached for his light-saber when He turned back around to face him.
"Put it back, Skywalker," He said. And without any reason at all, Anakin found himself doing just that.
"How do you know my name?" Anakin added to his existing list of questions. Even though he had just meaningless obeyed the stranger, he tried to regain his dignity by speaking in as harsh and spiteful tone as he could.
"So it has begun already..." the man said softly into his black glove. Anakin did not even bother asking what that was supposed to mean.
"Skywalker, you have asked me three questions, yet I know you have many more. I will answer the first trio now." He breathed heavily, as if every sentence was using up his entire set of lungs. "Our hands appear to be the same because," breath, "they are the same. Second," breath "I know your name because," breath, "It is my name too." He let his settle while Anakin's brow furrowed. They both knew perfectly well that no two beings in the galaxy shared a name. "Thirdly, I will not tell you who I am." Breath. "But perhaps I can show you..."
Anakin's heart raced as both the grey about them turned to white and He raised his arms to remove the helmet. The Jedi could not hold back a loud scream as the face he looked into instantly connected in his mind. That burnt, hideous face with the red eyes and scars—that ugly, wrinkled puddle of flesh face... was his own. Only older; much, much older.
"Anakin Skywalker," He said with a rasping breath and a voice nothing near as mighty as it had sounded from under the helmet. "This is what you shall become."
