AN: Like I have said before, I'm taking things out of canon as much as I am able. Which means that Grievous here isn't the one that was forced into a cybernetic body to save his life. This is the one that intentionally went under the knife to make himself stronger. Legends makes him more sympathetic, yes, but I think he's sort of more of a badass in canon. If you're all about the Legends continuity than...sorry? But give it a chance, I'm going to make this work to the most awesome degree. Let's go!
Chapter 7: Grievous
Scipio was a frozen waste of a planet. A rich, ridiculously wealthy waste of a planet, but a waste none the less, and Obi-Wan wasn't happy to be there. The young Sith had become accustomed to a level of comfort and luxury, and while he was no stranger to pain, he didn't see why he should have to expose himself to undesirable climates. Serenno was temperate and beautiful. Raxus was temperate and beautiful. Scipio only had a bank and hostile mountains and snow.
Obi-Wan landed his ship in the center of the hanger of a massive mountain fortress that served as the headquarters of the InterGalactic Banking Clan. He could have landed where he was designated by ground control when he entered the atmosphere, but Kenobi was irritated, and he was easily the most important person on the planet. They would make concessions for him, or they would be made to.
The Sith left the cruiser, hood pulled over his head, and was met immediately by two dozen armed Iotran guards, all of their weapons drawn, primed, and pointed at him. Obi-Wan did not stop walking, he merely lifted his hand, and the guards rose into the air, their weapons dropping to the ground, a few of them firing from the impact, the plasma rounds striking the walls and leaving deep burns in the durasteel. The guards were flailing, clutching at their throats as the life was slowly squeezed out of them. Obi-Wan smirked from the shadows of his hood.
"I wonder if your commander will arrive before you all asphyxiate." The Sith smiled, watching the men's struggling intensify as their lungs began to burn, the Dark Side raging around him and at his every command. "You know why they sent you boys instead of their droid division?" The Sith tightened his grasp, and the guards' movements began to slow. "Their droids are expensive..."
A Muun guard came running from the hanger's security booth, and Kenobi's yellow eyes watched him approach, his grip on the guards loosening just enough for them to take in strained, wheezing breaths, and lowering them so the tips of their boots could just scrape the ground.
"Wait, stop!" the Muun cried, hands in the air, and the glowing yellow eyes narrowed. How dare this insignificant tell him what to do. "I apologize, my Lord. We did know you were coming, but we expected you in a Separatist aligned ship."
"That was your first error. Are these your men?" He tightened his grip, and the soldiers began their thrashing again. Muuns were pale to begin with, but the guard became translucent.
"Y-yes, my Lord, I'm the lieutenant of this troop."
"And you sent your Iotran Guard against me why?"
"Sir, we have a strict order on this hanger, you set your ship down-"
"Exactly where I wanted." Kenobi smirked as the lieutenant tensed, the man becoming obstinate. The Sith let go of the guards, the men coughing as air rushed into their lungs. Obi-Wan smiled. "Now, my friend, you did say you knew I was coming, yes?"
"Yes, sir, we-"
"And you do know who I am, right?"
The Muun crossed his long arms as he grew impatient with the human's arrogance. "You are the Negotiator. Sir."
Kenobi grinned. "Would you like to see how I negotiate?" The Muun didn't move. The Sith closed his eyes and pointed to a random guard. "You. Pick up your weapon and stand." The Iotran did as commanded. Obi-Wan pointed to the lieutenant. "Kill him."
The guard opened fire, unloading the plasma bolts into the Muun's body, each one punching a new hole into the tall, thin body, the trained guard's shots striking each of the supervisor's three hearts. The rest of the troop looked on uneasily, some of the soldiers bending to pick up their weapons, others looking at the dead body of their commanding officer and slowly backing away, hands in the air.
"Freeze, all of you." The guards froze in their places, shivering as the yellow eyes swept over them. "Step forward if you're holding your weapon." The six guards that had bent to retrieve their weapons stepped forward. Kenobi smiled sweetly. "What are you waiting for? Kill each other."
The six guards opened fire, the plasma bolts flying and striking the guards, the highly trained Iotrans not missing a single shot as the soldiers dropped to the ground, bodies twitching as the life left them. Kenobi turned his glowing eyes on the remainder of the guard.
"Now," he purred, stepping closer to the troop, and the guards backed up, hands high in the air. "I believe there was a problem with my ship?"
One guard stepped forward, kicking one of the blasters away from him as he drew closer to the Sith. "No, my Lord, no trouble at all."
"Oh, lovely. I'll see about getting you a competent commanding officer. See that this mess is cleaned up."
The guards saluted and quickly began to take care of the task assigned to them, and Obi-Wan turned to leave the hanger for the inner fortress of the Banking Clan. He didn't get very far, only just leaving the hanger for the long hallways of the mountain fortress before he was stopped by a delegation of Muuns, one of which he recognized as Chairman San Hill. The banker bowed deeply.
"Welcome, my Lord. We have been awaiting your arrival."
"With an armed guard, it seems."
"Yes, we saw the situation in the hanger," the Muun said, his voice thin and laced with fear. "You were right to handle it the way you did. We did not give them any orders to act as they did."
"I shouldn't have had to handle it." Kenobi smirked, his golden eyes burning into the Muun from the shadows of his hood. "I must ask, how far up does this incompetency go?"
"My Lord, we strive to-"
"Good, good," the Sith interrupted, and the tall, thin creatures looked at each other nervously. "You will execute the colonel in charge of your security division."
"Y-yes, my Lord, right away!" San Hill sent two of the Muuns that were with him off, speaking to them softly in the strange, mumbled tones of the Muun language, and Kenobi frowned. He had learned several languages under the orders of his Master, but the binary Muun language could not be spoken by humans. He closed his eyes, gauging their intentions through the Force, and found only fear and a nearly crippling desire to please the Sith.
"Now, my Lord," Hill said softly when his fellows had left, "what is your business here on Scipio?"
"I need to talk to your chief enforcer."
"...Grievous?"
"Unless you have another one I don't know about, then yes."
"O-of course," the Muun said swiftly, the already pale color draining from him. "Follow me, my Lord."
They walked in silence, San Hill's long, thin legs taking him swiftly through the building, frequently having to stop to wait for the Sith Lord, who was leisurely taking his time, his gait a relaxed stroll as his feet fell almost silently on the cold, hard ground. Kenobi was in no rush, and he wouldn't be hurried along by the likes of Chairman San Hill. Obi-Wan found the entire Muun race to be insufferable, and the only reason he could tolerate the one before him was because Chairman Hill had a crippling fear of the Sith Lord. He had seen what the Negotiator was capable of, he was there on Raxus when the Sith debilitated his cyborg enforcer. The rest of the Muuns were arrogant, a ridiculous notion that was amplified by the false sense of superiority that came from their long lives and high intelligence.
But they were weak, cowardly, and in time, they would come to serve the Sith, as all others would. The Muun were not special. They just believed they were.
Kenobi reached out with the Force to grab the Chairman's mind, and the Muun stopped in his tracks, shuddering as he felt a cold grip within his elongated head. It wasn't painful, but San Hill was afraid. Terribly so. Nute Gunray had spoken about what the young Sith was capable of.
"Keep walking," Kenobi softly drawled, a smirk on his lips as fear crippled his guide. "I'm not going to hurt you...yet." The banker whimpered, shaking uncontrollably and too afraid to move. "I just want access to your mind. I don't need you to be in pain for that, but if you don't keep moving, well...I have always found pain to be a strong motivator."
That settled it. On shaky legs, San Hill kept walking, his long, quick stride slowed to nearly a crawl, the Sith's own lazy pace now matching the fearful Muun. He could feel the presence of the man beside him in his mind, like a shadowy hand that pet and soothed as long fingers pried into memories and information that the banker had kept locked away from everyone. His fear slowly faded as he felt a slow throbbing in his head, his mind becoming hazy as his every emotion was replaced with calm, quiet submission.
"I need you to give additional funding to the Techno Union for the research and development of more advanced droids. I have already spoken to Wat Tambor about the matter, and he expects the funding immediately so he may begin."
"Yes, of course, my Lord." Hill could feel his entire being rising against the Sith's demands, but he couldn't find it within himself to disobey him. Matters regarding money always required discussion, contracts, approval from various parties, but the banker found himself taking out his datapad, his long fingers sweeping across the screen and transferring hundreds of millions of credits to the Techno Union's accounts. San whimpered as he did so; he wouldn't be Chairman for much longer when the others on the board found out about this.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?"
"N-no, my Lord..." As they walked down a long, dark hallway in the lowest levels of the mountain fortress, Obi-Wan's sharp ears could pick up the faint hissing of plasma striking metal, the noise becoming louder as they came to a thick durasteel door that looked like it could have been a personal vault. The door hissed open when San Hill typed in the access code, and the smell of burning metal hit Kenobi like a wall, and he breathed in deeply, a wide grin on his lips as he looked upon the cyborg Grievous, two lightsabers clutched in his claws and mindlessly striking at broken battle droids. They were all cut, the pieces scattered about the room in a haphazard mess of severed heads and legs, their wiring sparking and smoking from the touch of the deadly blue and green plasma blades.
"What's wrong, Grievous," Kenobi purred, his blazing yellow eyes looking at the cyborg as the creature reeled around to face him, and those reptilian eyes narrowed in anger. "Too scared to beat on something that fights back?"
A hollow, metallic snarl erupted from the cyborg, and he drew his lightsabers up, the two blades spinning at an inhuman rate before they stopped, long blades raised and poised toward the Sith. San Hill slowly backed out of the room, and Kenobi let him, the large, thick door closing with a deep, reverberating boom. Grievous began laughing. "It became too expensive to waste droids on my practice," the creature snarled, crouching down and eying the Sith's graceful movements. "None can stand against me."
"Of course they can't, droids are useless. Only the weak find them a challenge. Are you weak, Grievous?"
"I'm personally trained by Count Dooku himself!" the cyborg snarled, his rough voice angry, and Obi-Wan simply laughed.
"Dooku is an old man. Being trained in combat by the elderly isn't something I'd consider worthy of bragging about." Kenobi shed his cloak, tossing the heavy black cloth to the side and watching in amusement as Grievous seemed to waver, slitted yellow eyes looking cautious and confused.
"You are...younger than I imagined."
Obi-Wan could feel the cyborg's eyes running over him, observing how he moved, how he was built, and the Sith could feel caution, apprehension, a general feeling of unease run through the mechanical man, though Obi-Wan had to admit that he hid it well, those reptilian eyes angry and blazing despite his fear.
"Does my age matter?" Kenobi drawled, his voice light and cocky as he gauged his enemy. He had been inside Grievous' mind once before, and it was making it much easier to break past his defense again, the cyborg shuddering and growling as he felt the Sith inside his mind.
"It doesn't matter!" He was snarling, vicious and angry, his flare of temper forcing Obi-Wan out of his mind, and he drew his lightsabers up once again. "You are young and inexperienced, your age is a weakness!"
"Is it?" Obi-Wan reached behind him and took his own lightsaber into his hand, flicking it on and watching the cyborg's eyes widen as the red blade extended. He felt the Dark Side build within him, a raging force that he exerted absolute control over. It had been a long time since he had engaged in a real fight, and he found his entire being aching for it, his nerves on fire with excitement. He fought with Dooku often, but the Count was old and growing weary, and the fights they had were no longer a challenge. He did train in lightsaber combat with Darth Sidious, but those weren't fights; those were long, drawn out exercises in pain and suffering.
"When I kill you, Jedi, I am taking that blade and adding it to my collection!"
"Oh, sweet Force, there is so much wrong with that sentence..." Kenobi groaned, focus shifting away from his enemy as he rolled his eyes. "Do I even look like a Jedi to you?"
"Yes." Kenobi rolled his eyes again, scoffing, and the cyborg became more angry. "I have trained with Dooku, and he was a Jedi! I've seen what his Jedi powers can do, and you are a Jedi!"
"Was a Jedi, once. A long time ago. Same as your Master, but we serve...something different now." Kenobi raised his lightsaber over his shoulder, pointing at Grievous with his free hand and beaconing him to attack. The cyborg fell for the taunt and threw himself at the Sith, both blades swinging wildly, rotating on his mechanical hands.
It was the most fun Obi-Wan had in ages.
Kenobi was loathe to admit it, but Grievous was very, very good. He ducked and dodged, his graceful defensive movements keeping the savage cyborg from landing a hit, but the creature was fast, agile and switched styles often. From Dooku's preferred Makashi to the amalgamation of the other styles in the form of Niman, Grievous ran through them all, even showed hints of the extremely difficult Vaapad that Mace Windu had developed and mastered. A great deal of his movements fit none of the traditional lightsaber forms, the motions he executed possible only because of his mechanical body and cybernetic enhancements. The last session with Sidious was designed for Obi-Wan to master the art of breaking into a Jedi's mind while they were focused in combat, and the same trick was proving very useful now.
Kenobi grabbed the cyborg's organic mind with the Force, feeling the electric charge of the nodes attached to the creature's brain. Grievious' mind was cybernetically enhanced, like the rest of him, and it accounted for his advanced processing speed and a great deal of his movements. His combat skills were learned and programmed, his dueling a mix of computer programming and animal instinct, and it made him exceptionally dangerous.
Grievous' two blades locked with Kenobi's red ones, and the cyborg drew near as he pressed his weight down, attempting to force the Sith's blade to cut its master. "I hated you the moment I saw you," Kenobi purred, and he watched the creature's eyes narrow. "It was always absurd. An army of droids commanded by a droid."
"I am not a droid!" Grievous snarled, lashing out low at the Sith, and Obi-Wan blocked it, deftly stepping out of the way of his other blade as it was quickly brought down into the spot Kenobi was standing a second ago. The red blade arched around, striking at the cyborg's shoulder, but his strike was quickly blocked, but only just barely, and Grievous' balance was lost for a second. It was enough for Obi-Wan to get the mechanical man attempting to defend as the red blade pressed closer.
"I know...but you'll forgive the mistake, it's hard to tell." He smirked, dancing out of the way as Grievous howled in rage, pressing a new offense. "And you can hardly blame me. You hate me too." Kenobi smiled. "Why?"
"You are a Jedi!"
"I'm really not," Kenobi drawled, lazily stepping out of the way of a random swing and deftly blocking the other. He was in tune with the Force, and the Dark Side and him were one. He could almost predict all of the cyborg's movements. Like Grievous, the longer he fought, the more he understood his enemy and the better he got. His defensive Soresu was conserving the Sith's energy, and despite his look, Grievous was not a droid, and though his cybernetics greatly augmented his stamina, what remained of his body was beginning to show fatigue.
"I was told to make peace with you," Kenobi said, dancing out of the way of Grievous' swings. "But one look at you told me that peace isn't your way. You're a man of war, and strength is all that matters."
"It is the only thing that ever mattered!" The reptilian eyes were blazing with fury as his wrists began to spin at a blinding speed, making the lightsabers in his grasp cut through the air like buzz saws. The cyborg slowly advanced, and Kenobi backed up, giving ground as the tips of the weapons occasionally cut the floor, sending showers of sparks flying.
"I know. Which is why I decided that to make peace, I'd have to beat you senseless." Grievous growled and launched himself at Kenobi, his agile, heavy body skidding past the Sith as he carefully sidestepped the provoked cyborg. Grievous was angry, blindly so, and his rage was feeding Kenobi's powers, the wrath of the mechanical man fueling the Dark Side. Their blades locked, Grievous using his superior strength to move his opponent back. Kenobi's boots left black marks on the floor as he was pushed back, the relentless cyborg directing him toward the back wall, and when they were close, Grievous lifted his clawed leg to kick the Sith against the wall.
The sharp yellow eyes of the Sith Lord caught what Grievous was up to just before the deadly appendage crushed into him, and he dodged out of the way, his red saber coming down to sever the cyborg's leg at the knee. Grievous howled, not in pain, but in rage as his forward momentum sent him face first into the wall, the sharp sound of metal striking metal ringing through the air.
"You misunderstand me, Grievous," Obi-Wan purred, keeping his distance as the cyborg slowly pushed himself off the ground, a clawed hand gripping his sinister mask that covered his presumably organic head. "I admire strength, you see. I left the Jedi to obtain true power. I've seen inside your mind, Kaleesh, and I understand your struggle."
"You understand nothing!" The golden reptilian eyes were burning with rage, the warrior standing on his one good leg, bent to allow what remained of his second leg to touch the ground, and his arms detached, the metal and cybernetics unfolding and reforming, his thick limbs separating to become four thin arms. He pitched forward, two arms on the ground, and the other two in the air, the sabers poised and ready to fight.
"...that is an extremely clever trick, who designed that?" With an outraged roar, Grievous crawled toward the Sith, his movements slowed by the missing leg as it scraped off the ground, but he was not hindered much. "Shall I tell you what's in your mind, or are you going to tell me?"
"Shut up and fight!" The cyborg swung at the evasive man furiously, and though he was not terribly hindered, the infuriating, smirking man was quick and defensive, readily taking advantage of the mechanical man's handicap by forcing Grievous to put weight on the severed limb, sending his body off-balance as the sharp metal screeched on the ground. He swung his blue weapon in a downward arch, just missing the Sith as he jumped, twisting in the air, red blade lashing out and Grievous found his weight pitching forward, face skidding on the ground. Furious reptilian eyes looked to the side to see one of his supporting arms laying ten feet away from him.
"At first," the Sith drawled, voice lazy and amused, and Grievous couldn't have hated his carefree, affected tone anymore than he did in that moment, "I looked down on you. A creature so weak, so insignificant that he abandoned his body in favor of a stronger, mechanical one. More machine than man. You made yourself better with cybernetics to become what you never could on your own."
Grievous dropped one saber, placing his free hand on the ground to crawl toward the Sith, the green blade swinging furiously as the creature howled, raspy and metallic behind his mask. The ferocity of the attack sent Obi-Wan on the defensive, but only for a short time. Kenobi found his focus, his red blade easily blocking the cyborg's single weapon, and he grabbed the augmented mind with the Force, sending a wave of searing pain through the creature, and Grievous collapsed, snarling in pain and rage. The Sith reached out, and the cyborg's two abandoned sabers flew to his hand. With the dangerous man disarmed, Kenobi let go of his hold, the pain leaving as the man took panting, ragged breaths, coughing from the extended effort.
"I'm honestly impressed. After all, I did similar." Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes locking with the cyborg's when the fallen warrior looked up at his victorious opponent. "I left the Jedi to become powerful. The Jedi hold back, restrict their powers for fear of what they may bring, but I don't fear power or darkness. I don't fear the changes one must undergo, the sacrifices one must to become truly powerful. And now, I'm stronger than any Jedi, as you are stronger than any of your people."
"It isn't enough!" Grievous snarled, and Kenobi smiled softly.
"It never is, is it?"
"I lose against Dooku, an old man! I lose against you, and you are barely a man!"
"Well, I wouldn't say barely..."
"If I had the power of the Force..."
"...oh." Kenobi's eyes lit up. "I see now. It was hard to read before, Dooku stopped me from looking too deep." He smiled warmly, looking at the cyborg as he crawled to his fallen arm, taking it in one of his hands before he scuttled across the floor, the cut leg dragging across the ground and leaving a trail of sparks as he made his way to the other piece of his leg. "I saw admiration and respect for the Jedi turned to hatred and jealousy when I looked within you. The Jedi are fearsome warriors, peerless on the battlefield, and you are a warrior. It makes sense you'd want to emulate them."
Grievous snarled, frustration and bitter resignation in his metallic voice as he pulled himself across the floor, dropping to the ground before Kenobi and sitting up, two arms folding back into one, and the other sparking and whirring as the mechanics attempted to connect an arm that just wasn't there. "You are...a superior warrior," the cyborg growled, head bowed as he examined his severed limbs.
"Of course I'm better than you. I'm better than Dooku, and Dooku is better than you. If I lost, it would be embarrassing."
Grievous grumbled softly in agreement. "I underwent augmentations to make myself stronger, so I could have an edge in battle. I have no connection with the Force, so how could I ever match the Jedi?" The cyborg snarled, his clawed hand clutching his severed leg tightly. "One day, I will beat a Jedi in battle. One day, I will have that power!"
Obi-Wan sat silently for a moment, quietly contemplating this as he watched the cyborg try to fit the severed limbs back on, snarling in anger when he saw it was hopeless. "...I'm something of an amateur mechanic. May I see that?"
Grievous looked at the Sith suspiciously, eying his graceful, extended hand, and, growling, put the severed arm in his hand. "It is beyond your knowledge, Jedi."
"Don't underestimate me. Being close to Dooku puts me close to the Techno Union, and my Master has...encouraged my technological studies." Obi-Wan held up the arm, looking it over. "And don't call me Jedi."
"Jedi."
The Sith frowned. "You must have a workstation. I can't be the first one to sever your limbs."
"...follow me." Grievous returned to all fours, crawling along the floor, his severed left leg slipping every time he put his weight on it, Kenobi following closely behind. The cyborg pounded on a door at the far end of the room, the hinges bending and breaking under the frustrated force of the heavy clawed hand, and the door fell to the ground with a resounding bang. He pulled himself up to his one leg using the doorframe for support and hobbled to a cold steel table in the center of the small workstation.
Obi-Wan immediately began looking around, familiarizing himself with the platings and cybernetics that were scattered about on different desks in the cluttered room as the cyborg hoisted himself up onto the table. "Who fixes you when you break?"
Grievous sat up straight from his place at the table, snarling in anger. "I don't break, Jedi." Kenobi just stared at him and held up the severed arm. "...Dooku has a droid that can fix the damage he causes."
"Why isn't it here?"
"Dooku doesn't break me here."
Kenobi smirked, picking up the tools he wanted from the bench. "On your back." With a soft growl, Grievous did as commanded, and Obi-Wan swiftly set to work, removing the entire shoulder joint of the severed arm. He came around to examine the intact one, picking it up and moving it in all directions, and he opened it up to observe the mechanics of it, despite a snarl of protest from the cyborg.
"You can call me Kenobi, if you like," Obi-Wan said softly as he dropped Grievous' arm, sitting down at one of the benches and grabbing the hardware he needed.
"Jedi." Grievous chuckled as the Sith's golden eyes fell on him, narrowed in anger.
"Droid." Grievous stopped laughing.
"...Kenobi." The Sith smirked softly and bent to his work, the cyborg watching carefully as the swift, deft fingers connected and assembled the arm, removing the severed, useless piece from the shoulder joint and carefully attaching the piece he built. "If you are not Jedi, what are you?"
"What does Dooku tell you he is?"
"Dooku was a Jedi. He left because they are weak."
"You became a machine to compete with the Jedi combat prowess. You think the Jedi weak?"
Grievous snarled viciously. "I am stronger than the Jedi now!"
"...you're right." Kenobi slid his hand over the arm, testing the hydraulics and making certain the pieces moved smoothly. "You could probably defeat many in the Order. You're fast and unpredictable and completely brutal. A bit unrefined, maybe, but that can be trained out of you."
Grievous watched as the Sith brought the arm to him and began attaching it, the cybernetics latching into place as he secured the appendage. "...could you teach me?"
"My Master keeps me busy with other things. I don't have the time."
"Make the time." Kenobi's eyes narrowed, looking at the cyborg on the table. Grievous quickly realized his mistake, growled, and snarled, "I am worth your time."
"...finish your training with Dooku. I'll be around occasionally so...we'll see." He quickly bent to the task of removing the broken leg, examining the mechanics of the functioning leg and returning to the workbench. "I have a proposition." Grievous was silent, but Kenobi could feel his eyes on him, felt through the Force that he was listening and interested. "I'm going to be hunting Jedi very, very soon for...personal reasons. I thought we could work together in this."
"Why. You fight better than I do. You don't need help killing Jedi."
"You're right, I don't. But I'm not trying to kill Jedi, I'm trying to capture them. And I'm going to need a lot of Jedi. More than I can take on my own, and my Master needs me to keep to the shadows."
Grievous snarled viciously. "What's the point if you do not kill them?"
"Oh, sweetie, death is too easy." Kenobi smirked, snapping two pieces together and bolting them, moving the joint of the knee he was building. "Killing a Jedi is one thing, but capturing them takes a level of skill and finesse that only the best can accomplish. I need live Jedi. Of course, you can keep the lightsabers of any Jedi we do capture. Can you help me?"
The cyborg drummed the fingers of his new arm on the metallic table, testing the finite movements of the appendage that the Sith built, and he found it surprisingly functional. Perfect, even. "What will you do with them?"
Obi-Wan turned to look at his patient, a cruel smirk on his lips. "I'm going to break them. I'm going to reach into their minds and pull them to pieces. I'm going to rip their minds apart. I'm going to make them suffer like they never have, I'm going to watch them drown in agony. They will show me everything, their thoughts, their memories, their fears, and they're going to do it because I commanded it. By the time I'm done, they will beg for death."
Grievous' eyes narrowed in sinister delight. "I might just like you, Kenobi."
"You'll help?" The cyborg nodded, and the Sith brought over the leg and swiftly attached it. He stood, clawed feet clanking on the ground as he moved his limbs, stretching the mechanical joints and testing the intricate hydraulics. Everything moved perfectly.
"You're an amateur, hmm?"
Kenobi shrugged. "As I said, I'm close to the Techno Union. I studied your schematics before I came. Though, I admit, I wasn't suspecting to have to put you back together..." Grievous' eyes narrowed, and the Sith laughed, clear and light and shockingly good-natured. "I have been talking to them about redesigning the battle droids to make a more effective fighting force. I recommended a design based on yours. Of course, we will need people for the experiments, but I have a particular...gift for making people see things my way."
"You would have an army of cyborgs?"
"I would have an army of advanced battle droids that are commanded by cyborgs."
Grievous nodded thoughtfully. "That is an improvement."
Kenobi grinned, about to answer when his comlink buzzed. Frowning, he turned from Grievous and answered the call, the little blue hologram of his Master appearing before him. The Sith bowed his head in respect. "Master."
"Are you alone?" Sidious said softly, and Kenobi shook his head.
"I'm with Grievous. We are discussing the acquisition of my...playthings."
The Sith Master was silent for a moment, and Obi-Wan held his breath. Even from the distance, he could feel the presence of his Master in his mind, and he knew full well that the span of the galaxy couldn't keep Sidious from inflicting pain on him, if that was his desire. Finally, the Sith Lord drawled, "Finish up what you are doing. I need you to oversee matters on Kabal."
"Do you require the planet, Master?"
"Yes. Bring them to you."
Kenobi bowed. "As you command, my Master." The hologram flickered off, and Obi-Wan felt his Master's presence fade. He turned to his cyborg companion, a wicked grin on his face. "The planet Kabal is in crisis," he drawled, his accented voice smooth and aristocratically clipped. "The Republic will certainly be there to try and keep the peace. Want to go hunt some Jedi?"
Obi-Wan couldn't see the cyborg's face under that mask, if he even had a face left, but if he did, Kenobi knew that mouth would be grinning. "Lead the way, my Lord."