The Dark Presence of Geonosis
He continued to walk through the shadows, knowing that soon he would have his prey. He chose not to go to the control room—where the Separatist leaders were undoubtedly cowering in fear, while their inferior droid commanders were wasting valuable resources in saving the planet. It had already been lost when the Jedi had unleashed its secret army. But Grievous didn't care. He craved bloodshed—and he was reputed to be one of the most dangerous tacticians throughout the Galaxy. He was even interested in the skills of some of these Jedi—more accurately, the Masters such as Windu, Ki-Adi-Mundi or even the vaunted Master Yoda.
But he would have his chance when time presented itself to him. In the meantime, he would have to bide his time and begin calculated battle plans throughout the Galaxy. His armourweave silver exterior, crimson interior, cape billowed around him, hiding much of his form. The only visible feature on the Kaleesh warrior, was the metallic mask that hid away much of his face—leaving only minute traits of his once organic body. The only visible sign of his organic origins were his eyes—yellow eyes with black pupils that were slits.
His duranium alloy made him all the more flexible and he enjoyed several other traits that allowed him to have the upper edge against his foes—foes that would soon know the name of Grievous.
The rocky, dim lit tunnel shook as battle ensued high above him. He paid no mind to the dust that fell around him, Grievous had only one purpose: to seek out and destroy any threat that presented itself between him and his personal shuttle.
He brought his hands—rather droid-like appendages—towards his metallic hips, as his cape covered most, if not all, of his body. He felt the near-archaic, yet serviceable, swords that were clipped to him. He had kept the sharp, curved blades with him for quite some time after the accident. He paid no mind to that, however, for he had a mission to complete. And perhaps he would gain some form of trophies while he was at it—old habits did have a tendency to die hard.
The rocks shuffled as the sounds of explosions and battle began to die down. Something—or someone had found a way into the tunnels.
He went prone.
More rocks shuffled. Some indistinct sounds were made, but the light shaking of equipment could be heard.
If he still could, Grievous would have smiled. Now, he thought, is the best time to see if my new body is as good as the Geonosians say.
He felt the claws of his duranium encased feet begin to dig into the ground as he began to unclip his cape, leaving it safely tucked away near a cropping of rocks. Grievous began to walk across the walls and buried the claws of his two hands into the wall's surface and crawled into a darkened corner at the top of the tunnel, patiently waiting for his victims to draw nearer. He kept his lanky, duranium alloyed body safely prone. His eyes had become thin slits—similar to his vertical pupils.
"There's nothing here—it's clear," came a voice that echoed through the tunnel.
"All right," came another voice—very much the same one, but more fit to be in command. "Inform General Yoda that this place is clear. We'll make way to the Geonosian Foundry."
Clones, Grievous thought to himself. And these must be Commandoes; very clever, Jedi. He began to slowly crawl as he attempted to gain a better view of the commandoes, who were preoccupied with countering an attack that would come directly in front of them—not above.
He glimpsed white armoured soldiers, with their horizontal H-Visors, yet, their armour and helmets appeared to be designed differently than the ones he had seen in the Arena earlier. They are very much Commandoes, he approved as they maintained the training only specific to special soldiers. He glanced just past the clones, to see the crumpled bodies of four Geonosian Elite warriors.
He would very much enjoy this fight.
The clones began to move out in a synchronous pattern.
Grievous began to admire these ones. They would prove most formidable.
"This is Alpha Squad," one of the commandoes began, calling on a comlink. "I repeat, this is Alpha Squad—our Drop-off Point is secured; I repeat, the Drop-off Point is secured, over."
"Roger that, Alpha Squad," came the same voice, this time on the comm.
"We are proceeding to the Nav. Point, I repeat, we are proceeding to the Foundry."
"Copy that, Alpha Squad. Intel tells me that you are in the clear—there are no hostiles, over."
"Roger that, HQ, Alpha Squad out."
Good, they won't know what hit them, Grievous thought, as the promise of pain and bloodshed entertained him.
As the clones began to pace themselves, they only felt the small traces of dust and pebbles clanging on their helmets, thinking that the battle continued to rage above them.
One of the clones paused for a moment, switching his blaster pack to a fresh one.
Grievous struck as he let his hands go, standing upside down and reaching out with his hands as one six-fingered hand crushed the commando's throat and the other hoisted the body upwards.
The commandoes turned and drew beads where their companion had been, startled by the clanging of the missing commando's weapon.
"Where is he!" The leader spoke as they looked around them, pointing their mounted lights all around the tunnels.
"There he is!" Another one called out as the body came crashing to the ground—the armour torn to shreds and the body bleeding profusely.
"Oh no, Deck!" The leader called out. "Blur, check him out! Cage, provide cover with me."
"Roger that, Capps," Cage replied as he formed a perimeter around the fallen commando.
"Capps, I've got a problem here," Blur said. "He's gone—his vitals have been torn to shreds. There's nothing I can do."
"All right," Capps said resignedly, "field strip him and take his gear."
Before any of the three could do anything, another form had fallen to the ground—right between the three and on top of the body of the dead commando.
Before the commandoes could respond, Blur was sent flying away with a kick to the chest, as he crashed into a cropping of rocks. His eyesight blurred for a moment as he watched a metallic form brandish two curved and very deadly shaped blades around, whirring with incredible speed as it cut through his two companions.
Grievous arced his left blade up, slicing through Cage's hand that carried most of his DC-17 Blaster Rifle, while Grievous' right hand whirred and spun as if it were nothing more than a buzz-saw that split Capps' skull and helmet in half.
Trying to fight the pain—and screaming in agony—Cage revealed a wristblade that was none other than a vibroblade. He swung left and right, his blade clashing against the two curved blades.
Grievous could only take pleasure and then some, as he began to turn both of his hands into buzz-saws, slicing through the chest of the commando with one blade, as the other sliced cleanly through the commando's throat and both blades sliced through the torso with savage delight.
Blur managed to rise and pull out his DC-15 pistol, aiming at the droid-like creature as it laughed sadistically at the carnage it wrought. He took aim and fired—only to watch the creature stop in its tracks and curse, before it took notice of the commando.
Grievous watched one of his blades shear away and imbed itself into the rock of the tunnel. He grew angry as he saw the last remaining commando try to defy him. Swiftly, he closed the gap between the two and kicked the blaster pistol out of the clone's hand as his left hand—missing a blade of course—reached out and grabbed the man by the throat.
"Time to die," Grievous spoke, as he couldn't help but laugh at the wonder of his new body. The Geonosians certainly were artists in their craft—as was he.
Blur could only scream in pain as Grievous tore him asunder—ripping out the limbs of the commando and disemboweling the human with his single blade.
"Alpha Squad! Alpha Squad! Do you copy? I repeat, Alpha Squad, do you copy?"
Grievous turned to the transmission that was left open on his first victim's armour. He walked up to it and listened to it, taking in delight as he heard the voice on the other end speak.
"I think Alpha Squad is gone. Inform General Yoda that we need to send another team down there. And make sure that we have a Jedi Commander with Beta Squad."
Grievous walked towards the fallen Geonosians and picked up one of their weapons that somehow appealed to him. It was a long, metallic staff that he held in one hand. He tapped a small button on it and both ends revealed a purple glow. An electrostaff, he thought to himself as he twirled the purple-tipped quarterstaff around. Very intriguing. He found himself entertaining the idea of wielding it—for now.
He clipped his single blade to his thigh as he sought out his cape, clipping it to himself once more. He walked with the staff in one hand, eager to reach his destination—and reach ever closer to killing the Jedi.