Smokey silhouettes rose out of the ashen dunes ravenous hunger in their illuminated ember eyes. They surrounded him like patient observers. They maintained their distance and seemed to carry an uncanny familiarity but the murky haze surrounding them prevented him from knowing for sure. His feet sank into the slag beneath him reminding him of the ever changing nature of the planet. Mountains seemed to rise and fall, rivers quickly burned into lakes and buildings crumbled, erected, and crumbled once more in endless chaotic cycles. Rivers of fire constantly toasted his face despite their distance from him and the ever present light from them reflected off of the smog of the planet. A miasma of sulfur was omnipresent and inescapable forever seared into his nose and memory. Anakin's eyes surveyed the distance, reminded of the presence of the watchers yet the feeling of isolation remained.
Ahead of him he could make out the top of the castle he had previously sought refuge in during a previous trip here- to Mustafar. It seemed newer than the last time he saw it. Somehow it had grown in size. The dark twin spires pierced at the sky like daggers daring it to collapse around it. It remained a well of darkness and almost fueled the planet. The relentless respirator cyborg- man, whatever he was had to be connected to that castle somehow. It felt familiar to him; as if he was connected to it as well. He couldn't quite place the feeling of that either. He was weary from the constant fight. Not something he himself would ever admit to as battles seemed to be his entire purpose for being. Commanding a legion of troops of his own, leading them into battle, saving those next to him, forging bonds of brotherhood with the men beside him in the trenches, these were the things that gave his life meaning- not the jedi order. Never the jedi order.
The aristocrats ruled over the bureacracy. His own wife a slave to the wheel of the Republic, turning round and around again but never fixing what's broken with it. The day will come when that wheel ceases to turn and what would the galaxy do then? The jedi would be of no use. They claim they are separate from politics. They exist outside of it, simple peace keepers. They are governed by the same forces that move the political circles. The jedi were so blinded by their self righteous status they failed to see the truth of their cult. His mind went blank. He stopped walking. He couldn't quite possibly believe all of that could he? Was it just a cult he was dragged into? Preyed upon as a young slave dreaming for a better future only to find himself serving a new master? He looked at the lightsaber in his hand. What was all of this about?
"You cannot possibly serve something higher than yourself if you belong to a cult that is beneath you." The deep voice pierced the silence of the planet accompanied by the rasping wheeze he'd grown to fear.
Anakin turned to the figure that now stood before him. Large and imposing he remained unchanged from the previous times he'd seen this man, cyborg, thing. "Get out of my head." He protested. No longer having the will to fight with the demon. "Why do we even do this?"
The figure remained unmoved and the expressionless mask didn't let on to any switches. No subtle hints in conversation that things would quickly turn. No cues as to what the figure was thinking. Just a black soulless cast. The lightsaber slowly ignited sliding forth from its hilt in a dramatic fashion. The crimson blade fit for a planet made up of embers, oranges, vermillions, and various shades of black stood to little contrast to its surroundings.
Anakin grit his teeth suddenly finding a deep seated rage well up from with in him like the lava springs surrounding him. It erupted with fury and energy he'd never known and it rippled through the air like thunder. The figure was thrown backwards by that very force and landed quite ungracefully into the gravel. "I have had ENOUGH." Anakin launched himself into the air pulling out his own blade and swinging it down with bone crushing force. "I DEMAND ANSWERS." He swung again violently tomahawking the figure laying frozen on his back.
He sat up, blinking away the tiredness from his eyes. He scanned his surroundings groggily and remembered where he was. The stars lining the heavens around him and his engine hummed peacefully in the background. He was still in his cockpit, still on his way to Mustafar. How long ago was his contact with Kenobi? It felt like days. Perhaps it was. The navicomputer however disagreed. "Minutes huh?" He sat back incredulous, mulling over the events from the volcanic planet in his mind. Who were those figures watching them? What was so different about this encounter?
-
18:45 SOMEWHERE IN THE OUTTER RIM
The conversation only left Kenobi more concerned, outraged, and curious. What did that boy think he was doing now? The Separatists would be here any minute now for the hostage exchange. This was the rendezvous and these were the terms. Skywalker was to be his back up should things have gone south. To call for back up now would be too late, no one in the republic would be available to reach them until the next morning. Even if someone could get out there in time, if the separatists saw reinforcements arriving they might take it as a sign of aggression and begin a battle. Kenobi would have to go at it alone. Rubbish. Complete rubbish.