The shuttle hurdled to the ground with a hideous screech, sending sparks and soil to burst into the grimy air. Supplemented with oxygen, the small flames alight from the damaged engine burst into frenzied fire, greedily consuming the outer shell of the shuttle. Harsh winds carried the orange gravel to mingle with the ancient, crumbling stone structures nearby; there was script ingrained onto the structures, of an ancient language long abandoned by the vast galaxy-script that enshrined the buried Lords and immortalized their teachings.

Korriban, the birthplace of the ancient Sith, gave the Newcomer its gelid welcome.

Tuk'ata, the vicious, lethal hounds that loyally guarded the obsolete tombs of the honored dead, still roamed the grounds, howling in agony of their isolation and bloodlust. Unbridled pelko bugs and k'lor'slugs crawled in the slithering sands, ravenous for prey, and the shyracks shrieked perpetually in the silence and gloom of their underground fortresses. Skeletons and decapitated skulls littered the earth below a thick blanket of dust; a few abraded shards of bone that lay against dilapidated pottery may be granted an unearthing from their seclusion when a wind or two passed by.

Storms of sand and dust ravaged the planet's surface, eroding away at the deserted towers, while Horuset's merciless rays scorched down, as it had been since the star system's creation.

At the sound of disturbance and the scarce scent of flesh, the hounds, slugs and all other savagely, famished creatures darted towards the blazing shuttle.

The Dark Side swathed the desolate land like a thick veil, choking out the Light, just like how Sidious had extinguished the monster's own. As the door of the shuttle abruptly flew agape, the black Hell-spawned demon emerged from the crimson inferno and showed himself to the nightmarish beasts. Its broad cape billowed in the winds that forever wailed misery, its chilling, rhythmic breathing resonating throughout the stone carvings.

A mutilated tuk'ata hound charged toward the Invader in its delirium, pouncing across the pillars and jagged rock that formed the land, dagger-like fangs bared and claws ready to shred apart soft flesh… Only to have the black-clad predator raise a cybernetic limb and, with a seemingly effortless twitch of two fingers, crush its legs and collapse the feverish animal to the ground.

After whimpering and submissively curling itself on the coarse sand, the creature suddenly yowled out in agony and defeat, simply to have its neck snapped a moment later. At the death of the hound, the other beasts scattered frantically, their primitive eyes shining with an unfamiliar horror as they recognized this new creature to be more powerful than any predator they had ever seen.

There was no need to observe the scenery; it had come here with only one intention, for one purpose. Leaving the burning shuttle behind, the Invader marched on.

The dark presence of the Emperor was much too immense to ignore. Bulking boots, colored the same shade as his blackened soul, crunched on the rough surface of Korriban as Vader followed the Force down gravel trails.

To his astonishment, a lone tuk'ata hound trailed behind, not close enough to intervene but not far enough for it to be out of Vader's blood-red vision. Its head was bowed down in humbleness and humility, but the thirst for flesh was evident in the creature's gleaming eyes.

Vader ignored the ebony beast, knowing fully well that it would not dare attack one whose abilities were paramount- not until it grew in strength, at least. Plus, the creature would give him space to brood; it seemed fierce enough that any potential attackers would keep away, saving from himself the effort of butchery.

As the trail led towards a great temple positioned between two precipices, the red visors picked up the fragile form of Sidious, seemingly solidified from the gravel and rocks. Vader tediously trudged forward as fast as his obtuse metal legs allowed, his eyes manifesting a maniacal delight, his cracked, bleeding lips pulling into a tortured grin.

The fool had been waiting.

His heart-one of his few remaining natural organs-pounded faster with each step, rage aflame in his inner turmoil. His breath-respiration that was not his own, all due to Sidious-was not to be worried about; he was more machine than man now...

No matter how fast Vader traveled, the beast followed, like a persistent shadow that pounced along the shallow cliffs of sand surrounding the Tombs.

Devoured by ceaseless rancor, resentment, and suffering, Vader marched up the steps to the entrance of the Temple, mediocre fists clenched until the metal groaned in protest.

In the distance, the tuk'ata watched, its marred, blood-stained snout pulled into a wild, exhilarated snarl that proudly displayed keen fangs, its eyes bright with a murderous glint.

"What a pleasant surprise, my apprentice." The voice dripped with sarcasm.

The croaking fiend is hiding behind a mask now! The piece of metal that now covered the Sith master's disfigured face made Vader sneer in a twisted mirth. The sight of that grotesque face, drenched in its very own repulsive blood, sheered through with the very scalpels and knives that had penetrated his own skin and ripped apart his own body, was all too delighting. The howls of absolute agony echoed in Vader's head; the brilliant yellow eyes gleamed in exhilaration.

Hypocrite.

"Have you come here to die, my apprentice?" The puppet master asked through the thick disguise. Through his visors, the younger Sith noticed the wrinkled hands fold into fists.

A strange, warped chuckle escaped from the vocoder; the notion was unbearably painful and left a sharp ache in his lungs, but the rage fueled him, the rage dulled the agony-

"It is past time I ended you, master."

Loud, ghastly snickering echoed through the grounds. "You? Ending me? It seems that you do not know your place, slave."

A gush of sizzling lightning effortlessly extended from the gnarled fingertips and rushed forward, dashing toward its Dark-sided opponent, knocking the Sith backwards into a pillar. The circuits of the life-support suit blew and shorted. The cackles tumbling from behind the mask only intensified as the apprentice collapsed onto the ground, its cybernetic legs holding up no more.

Absolute loathe sent pure energy into his every remaining cell, every fibre, every scorched, blistered patch of wasted skin, pouring into his veins, seizing his violently pounding heart.

"KNEEL BEFORE ME!"

His head whirred, his vision redder than ever-

NO.

Gradually, the black demon rose from the ground, an ignited inferno of spite and revenge burning, just burning, like the fire that had crawled along his spine in an utmost sadist fashion, like the blindingly yellow, spitting lava of Mustafar, like the Jedi Temple on that fateful night, like himself as he lay there in the pit of scorching blaze, a victim to his own wrongdoings-

Sand and gravel flung up from the ground, swirling around in a typhoon of spleen-

The bruises on Padme's neck, the shout of affliction from Obi-Wan, the cries of the younglings-

He could not breathe, he could not hear, he could not see, but that mattered no more-

Despite the searing agony that ruptured his flesh, he would kill this tyrant, this subject of anathema, this disgraceful abomination.

Even if it costed his life.

Like a rabid canine starved for bloodshed, the demon swung his leaden legs to rampantly charge forward, despite another wave of crackling lightning—

His forever ruined voice screamed with a raw strength that he never thought would be accomplished again:

"DIE!"

Manipulated. Corrupted. Exploited. Betrayed.

How foolish was he to think the Chancellor a benevolent old father? How naive, how blind the galaxy!?

He'd guaranteed, he'd vowed with such sincerity and affirmation and assurance that he would save her! Just like himself, Sidious was a physical embodiment of broken promises and dire secrets and repugnant lies.

The lightning was unrelenting, stronger and stronger in magnitude, but not once did those metal legs waver, he did not allow them to waver—

The hefty black gloves brutally ripped off Sidious' mask and tossed the masquerade to the ground, revealing the deformed, mangled flesh inside. The formerly benign face was now barely recognizable, with blatantly displayed contusions and a punctured right eyeball, but in the closeness his impaired eyes made out the shards of metal still jutting out from crumpled grey, bloodied skin and gruesome knots of pink flesh.

For just a moment, he allowed himself to revel in the sight of the disfigurement.

Then those great hands stretched forward, one resolutely clutching the pathetic neck, the other shoving its palm to the side of the wounded face, pushing the remnants of sharp metal further into the already marred skin, plunging its cybernetic thumb into the eye. As the Emperor choked and sent lightning forward with all his power, the thumb dug deeper, gouging into the socket before Sidious' eyelid could shut down, instantly crushing the left eye with barbaric force.

From faraway, the tuk'ata dug its claws into the soil, mauling fresh wounds into the ground as it yelped in excitement and pleasure.

The Emperor's wails of torment echoed in the vastness of the Tombs as he feebly scrambled to remove Vader's iron grip off his neck, but the black, determined demon would not be stopped this time-

Boiling rage encircled the master and the revolting apprentice, dancing around with a sickly laughter, mocking Vader's weakness, teasing how he fell to the deception of Sidious without ever a consideration of truth—

The heated inferno, the chaotic wildfire, was tangible. The Emperor's lightning deafened as it slithered up his half-machine spine like a thousand carnivorous, luminescent blue vines, encasing him in paralyzing, electrical venom, gnawing away at his remaining flesh and bone—

The metal hand grasped tighter and tighter, suffocating the Torturer, the Fiend, the ultimate Master—

Vader's yellow eyes were remorseless, alight with rapture as the left eyeball was compressed into pulp. He could not feel the substance caving in his fingers, no—but the sight was enough to relish upon. Red liquid sluggishly seeped out from a half-empty socket; the veins were ruptured, the contents inside were mixing with the jelly-like substance. That delirious grin from inside the Surgical Reconstruction Center tore across his oozing, cracked lips, and he tasted the copper tinge of blood on the tip of his burnt tongue.

Blood that would soon be Sidious'—

He brought his other hand forth—the hand that was now stained with the semi-solid goo that was the Emperor's eye—and increased his grip on the neck, until his near-deaf ears could clearly hear the monster choke for air—

His suit was smoking, sparks flashing from contact with the immense energy; the brim of his cape was crumpling to ashes that smothered the ground. The dreadful stench drifted to Sidious and nearly caused a gag, but the Sith only pressed his attack, knowing his disobedient apprentice would soon succumb to his undeniable, awesome power.

The arched lightning shot up his spine, cascaded up metal and skin, spiked his sizzling flesh, and finally struck his heart.

Blue lava, beating, beating, incinerating, crawling and scrapping like countless lethal centipedes, demolishing his lungs, thumping against his skull...

But now his nerve receptors felt no excruciating pain, cared no more of the bolts that struck with more intensity than that of the infernal Mustafar's, for the Dark channeled his power in a way the Light never had, the Dark fueled him with supple hatred and lust for revenge, the Dark gave him strength to break his chains-

He was numb.

Realizing his rebelling apprentice to be devoid of suffering, Sidious halted the electrical currents in one of his hands, reached for a weapon to plunge through the flesh heart. If lightning cannot do the job, then perhaps the mediocre lightsaber would.

"You—will—re-gret this—"

"THERE IS NOTHING I REGRET MORE THAN BOWING TO THE LIKES OF YOU!"

And those bloodied metal hands gave one final contraction, squeezing the life out of Sidious.

Instantaneously, it felt as if the Force were empty. There was a gap, an unfilled void of darkness where Sidious once resided...

But soon enough, as the ebony tuk'ata's piercing screech of anguish bounced across the barren land, Korriban's affiliation swayed a little closer to the Light.


Vader let the limp body fall, knowing the Dark Lord was dead at last.

Before the saber could sever its way through the apprentice's chest, it had already succumbed to gravity and clattered onto the smoldered sand.

The disgusting remains hit the ground and the wretched soul exploded in a vivid display. A huge burst of blinding blue energy gushed out from where mangled corpse lay, whipping Vader's tattered, fried cape, knocking the cyborg off balance. Vader lurched forward, his mechanical legs finally giving into its dysfunction, and toppled heavily to the ground.

The somewhat intact right eye of Sidious gazed up blankly at Horuset, Korriban's only star, while the eyelid of the pulverized left eye sunk rather unimpressively into the half-empty socket. The gnarled fingers were stretched, and rotten mouth ajar, forever stuck in its last moments, where incredulity and unprecedented fear had stricken the Sith.

Finally, Vader felt his breathlessness, of his heart beating as best as it could to send meager amounts of oxygen through his ruined body. Unbearable pain seized control of his fragmented body; he had no further strength to crawl away, no determination to search for help. His vision spun, his lungs burned, he could hear the ringing in his ears, but those were no matter to worry about, for those aches would soon be eased.

He had nothing left- no family and friends and belonging, no love nor camaraderie-nothing to live for, to die for. He'd lost everything, his prized and cherished snatched away by the merciless claws of his own faults and misdeeds.

Yet strangely enough, he was contempt now.

It was as if a spell had been broken- the terrifying madness, the fervent rage, the all-consuming darkness that had shrouded his cursed mind were evaporated, replaced by an overwhelming fatigue. His eyes ached, and his already blurry vision dulled even more, but it was only when he felt something wet slip down his face that he realized he had shed a tear.

Victory. Elation. Alas, the Emperor was gone.

In his final moments of life, those sturdy, seemingly unbreakable metal chains that were his bindings to perpetual slavery and countless masters, were shattered.

Quietly, he awaited his good friend Death, the first close companion that, excluding his mother, he had ever made-

He was three years old then, when the concept, the friend, latched on like a parasite. He'd arrived on Tatooine in a cramped, musty transport shuttle. Soon, he became acquainted with the darkest demon of all when he watched a run-away Arcona slave abruptly drop to the ground, dead, though there was no gore to be seen. Later, he had found out that the slave's intestines and entrails exploded internally.

(For young Anakin, the transmitter chip was a terrifying device. Other than the sudden lifeless slump to the floor, none would have a single clue that a slave's bodily organs had detonated from the inside.)

After that, more and more slaves died, until death became a normal, everyday event that eliminated the unlucky ones.

He was a freedman now, just like the runaways had essentially been- even if this freedom would only last for a few minutes at most. He knew his suit, his life-support, his mechanical parts that now made up most of his body, were obliterated by the lightning; there was no saving him, now. Just like the other slaves that ran away, all that was left was for Death to come, take his hand, and lead him to purgatory.

Perhaps it was fitting that he joins Sidious in death and in hell- ultimately, it was his fault that his brothers and sisters were dead, that the Angels' precious golden wings were torn away.

They'd all fallen.


He lay there like a wounded nexu, defanged and declawed, his cape shredded and scorched, his mechanical fingers twitching uncontrollably from its damaged receptors, the surface of his mask riddled with lightning scars, his decimated respirator failing to provide much-needed air.

Still perched on its observation spot, the ebony tuk'ata was silent and unmoving as it watched the collapsed Invader.

Inside the helmet, Vader was nearly asleep. His eyelids shut, his unsteady breaths morphed to a gradual ritardando. He was so tired, ready to meet the End…

Something warm and gentle brushed against his maimed, lacerated cheeks. Something comforting and familiar, decorated with that soothing berry perfume that she always wore-

Padme?

No, it couldn't be- those delicate fingers that prodded his seared, gashed face were far too small.

"Please stay awake, Daddy. Please. I love you. Stay strong, stay awake, you can do it-"

His... his child. His precious little angel-

However brief it was, the innocent, disembodied voice graced his unworthy ears. His heart ached with lament and remorse for the too-untimely death that he had inflicted upon the child. Choking out a grieving sob, he wished so much for the sound to linger, to manage to reach his arms out and embrace the poor, beloved never-infant with all the love in the universe.

I'll... I'll comply... anything for you, Little One...

No matter how eminently he wished to join his darling child in death, he obeyed the cherub's plea. With immense struggle, the brittle, crisped eyelids fluttered open.

Soon he dimly heard the thumping of footsteps on the ground, and the clatter of armor became evident as the rescuers drew nearer. His frail, broken body shook along with the disturbances in the sand.

Whomever these newcomers were-clones probably, though he had no more the strength to see for himself-, they'd halted in front of the two collapsed, black-clad figures. Through the Force, which he somehow still had a weak grasp on, he could distantly feel their utmost confusion.

The Emperor's corpse lay ravaged on the ground, his face destroyed, and heartbeat permanently stopped.

Then, Vader felt something clicked inside their head as the clones knelt in front of the survivor, complete obedience shown through the bow of their helmeted heads.

"Your Majesty… let us help you."

A spasm of confusion shot through his mind, but in a blink of the impaired eye, the words were lost to him.

Pairs of strong hands-too many for his groggy mind to count-slowly pulled Vader from the ground and tilted his head into a more manageable position. For a brief second, he could hear his thread-like wheezing; they must've deduced his survival from those barely audible gasps for air.

He breathed a little easier now, though air was still reluctant to enter his ruined lungs. His insensitive ears picked up muted murmurs outside the mask, but he could not make out their words...

They waited there for a while, though Vader did not know why. However, he was too feeble to move away, and too exhausted to ask. Those hefty metal limbs seemed to sap the strength out of him, even in their dormant, useless state. Before he could flash out of consciousness, however, a clone jabbed gloved fingers sharply into his sagging shoulders, waking him up with the pain.

Loyal, these men were... if not simultaneously treacherous.

Soon his mask was being pried away, exposing his tender eyes to Korriban's wasted landscape and Horuset's seemingly bright sun. Once the mask was off, one of the blurry figures immediately attached another concealment-a smaller one this time, one that only covered his nose and mouth-onto the face.

A rush of panic made his dulling heart pound once more, but too incapacitated to flinch away, he accepted whatever torture they'd bring—

His rummaged flesh could take a few more scalpels and knives and injections, even without sedatives—

Once more, air circulated his lungs.

He was slowly revitalized, his unfocused eyes hazily making out the Phase Two helmets of red-and-white clones. Oxygen tingled against the deadened cells of his airway.

"What is thy bidding, your Majesty?"

Majesty?

Oh, yes. Sidious was dead, Vader was now declared ruler-

Which meant Sidious somehow intended Vader to inherit this fledgling Empire.

Keeping its extreme surprise buried, the black nexu rose unsteadily from the ground. Unflinching were the hands that reached out and supported his faltering body, though it was much too plausible that the soldiers had witnessed even more gruesome appearances than that of his during their service for the Republic.

Emperor Vader left the sifting orange sands of Korriban limping, battered and bruised, his torn cape bellowing in the vicious winds. His band of clone troopers loyally trailed behind.


Lingering behind was the ebony tuk'ata. While the Intruders disappeared past the Tombs, it pounced towards the putrid corpse with the lithe of a Corellian panther. Nearing the now dust-coated stretch of meat, the hound's eyes gleamed with zeal. The aroma was much too pleasant- it hadn't had a meal this good for a while.

Bowing down its snout with feverish glee, it first began lapping savagely at the blood and gory guts, declaring this prey to be its own against the other scavengers that now scurried close from the commotion. Once deciding it had spread enough of its saliva and scent, the tuk'ata dug in to his feast.

As it silently watched the Invader's new shuttle depart, its piercing fangs dripped scarlet.


One day later.

Vader, donning a repaired and polished suit, rises to the Imperial Throne. Emperor Palpatine had been declared dead a few standard hours ago, moments after a shuttle departed from Korriban had jumped out of hyperspace and neared the capital planet of Coruscant.

Holocams swerved around and broadcasted the new Emperor's speech throughout the galaxy.

Facing dauntlessly at the holocams, Vader spoke of his pursuit to pass on the legacy of benevolence from the now-deceased former senator of Naboo, Senator Amidala.

Some were skeptical of the new Emperor's aspiring words, believing him to use the senator's popularity among much of the galaxy to gain influence and pull more to his cause.

But Vader was no Chancellor Palpatine;

Truly, his words were spoken in her loving memory.


A/N: of course, I'm not killing off our favorite Trashlord. He doesn't deserve the fate of being abandoned and forgotten on some cruel planet like Korriban, no matter how many Jedi younglings he killed. (Plus, I have a tremendously askew opinion of him... probably the enshrinement phenomenon that sometimes occurs during grief.

If you didn't know, I'm still VERY sad about ROTJ.)

-The new shuttle (near the end): the band of clones that found Vader consisted partially of the clones from Coruscant (the ones chasing the traffic violator).

-AU/head-canon: even though Luke (or, Leia, though I'd like to imagine the child as Luke) is only an infant, he and his father developed a weak Force-connection during Padme's pregnancy, which was why he was able to "talk" to his father and encourage him to live, however brief those words were. (Vader thinks his child to be dead, which was why he held no suspicions of having its voice in his head; to him, the Force can communicate telepathically.)

-The apprentice kills the master or dies trying. Such is the way of the Sith.

-The ebony tuk'ata is a physical manifestation of the Dark Side. (head-canon.)