I own nothing and no one

As usual, if you see something you can't live without pm me

Take it home and name it Jeorge. Usual rules apply

One: Mention me in Author Notes

Two: No same sex pairings

Three: If you start it finish it

25: A Spark of Hope

Vader resisted the urge to swear. All things considered, he would have preferred it if the Rebels got away. However, he could hardly punish his men for doing their jobs well. The Death Star was an abomination, not to mention totally unnecessary. He could think of no reason that would require an entire planet to be reduced to rubble.

The Dark Lord of Sith was especially unhappy the chase had come to an end over his home planet. The planet on which his son lived. He hissed, the sound unnaturally magnified through the mask that in truth, he no longer needed. The only upside to this entire affair so far as he could see was that the stolen plans were still missing.

Vader smiled grimly. In a perfect world they would stay missing. The spirited princess who reminded him of his late wife would be rescued and the Death Star destroyed. Too bad it wouldn't happen. Suddenly the darkly clad man paused, an idea striking him. One he almost disregarded immediately. On the surface it seemed ridiculous. However the more he thought about it, the more he liked it.

All things being equal, Vader preferred to meet his enemies head on. He disliked the games played at the Imperial Court. Vipers, the lot of them, willing to sell out their own Mothers if the price was right. However, it was a game he had learned to play well, out of necessity.

He would arrange for the princess to escape, the former Jedi decided. Ensuring that both she and the stolen plans made it safely back to the Alliance. If the Emperor found out he could simply claim he was leading the Rebels into a trap. Something his so-called Master would not question at all. Palpaltine had always underestimated the group.

In truth though, the trap would be for Tarkin. He and this monstrosity he had created. Vader spun on his heel, making his way towards his temporary quarters. The plan solidifying with every step.

33: What One Would Give II

A group of captives was drug roughly into the room. Their leader staring in horror at the young man seated at the Dark Lord's feet. "Lord Zedd, please he's just a boy!"

Zedd chuckled darkly, running one clawed hand through his prize's hair. "Why I do believe they are worried about you," he said. His tone practically screaming how quickly that would change if they knew they truth.

The Lord of Nim leaned back on his throne. Looking from Tommy to his captives and then back again. "Kill them," he ordered.

A cool expression crossed Tommy's face as he looked up at his Master. "They are unarmed," he pointed out calmly.

Zedd sighed. "Someday child, I will rid you of these morals you cling to."

"Perhaps," the former ranger acknowledged. "But it will not be today."

For a moment the pair simply stared at each other. Then Zedd snapped his fingers. "Fetch their weapons." Within minutes, the prisoners were both unbound, and armed. The situation made more interesting by the sorcerer's promise that if they won they would leave unharmed.

The leader of the patrol looked at their opponent with regret. "I am sorry," he said sincerely. "But I must do what is best for my people."

"I am sorry as well." Then Tommy moved, ducking under one blade while kicking another into the air. He did not wait for it to come back down but leapt. Catching the hilt and twisting to catch one of the guardsmen across the throat.

It was a short fight, but brutal. When it was over, only a single person remained standing. Tommy dropped the bloodied blade to the ground, looking back at Zedd. "May I go now?" he asked.

Zedd rose, striding across the floor. "That depends," he said. "On whether you have remembered to whom you belong." He didn't believe for an instant the former ranger hadn't had time to finish the Prince off.

Tommy laughed bitterly, turning away. "How could I possible forget?" He had barely made it one step when a third voice spoke.

"Young warrior," it was the leader of the patrol. He was still alive. Though it was equally obvious he wouldn't be for much longer. The man coughed, specks of blood appearing around his mouth. "Might I have the honor of your name."

The brunette's eyes softened with compassion. "My true name would mean nothing to you," he said softly. "Most know me as Bloodstone."

"Bloodstone," the man repeated. He smiled, even as the light left his eyes. "You are not at all what I expected."

37: Shades of Gray

Dick walked confidently through the group of costumed villains. Well aware of the silence that followed in his wake. Slade had offered him a new uniform, but he had refused. He would not shame his family by turning away from them. He was Nightwing, and he had nothing to be ashamed of.

Besides, what was the worst they could do to him? Kill him? Thanks to the serum, that would be a temporary thing at best. As for suffering a fate worse than death. Well, he already had. Nightwing still held onto the hope that a few heroes had escaped the purge. But he knew, knew, that those closest to him had not been among them.

The darkly clad figure slipped out of the crowd. Stopping in front of a slightly raised table and giving its occupants a devil may care grin. Inwardly laughing at the look on Luther's face. "This a private party?" he inquired casually. "Or can anyone join?"