Chapter III:
The ground trembled.
A deep, seismic boom rippled through the lab, shaking the very foundation beneath their feet. Shattered glass vibrated across the floor, fallen machinery groaned under the pressure, and cracks formed in the walls as dust rained from the ceiling. The force of it sent Singed stumbling, catching himself on an overturned table as he looked up, wide-eyed.
Anakin gritted his teeth in spite. Potential? He would show him potential.
Then, as suddenly as it came, the tremor ceased. The silence left behind was almost deafening. Steam curled from shattered equipment, the scent of burnt metal and chemicals thick in the air. Singed rose slowly, brushing himself off from the earlier blast. "Fascinating," he murmured. "Your… capabilities. They are unlike anything I have seen."
Anakin clenched his fists, his restraints finally breaking. He should kill him. The thought came as naturally as breathing, as reflexive as igniting a saber. And yet, he hesitated.
He didn't trust Singed. He never would. But the man had knowledge. And that was worth more than immediate vengeance.
Singed's gaze flickered down Anakin's arms, the places where flesh met cold, unfeeling metal. "What differentiates you from a normal man?" he asked. "Your blood? Your mind?"
Anakin regarded Singed as he stood on his own for the first time, stumbling as his new legs found their footing. Whatever this Shimmer was, he could feel it tearing apart his mind like a fever. Like his mind was racing to catch up to the rest of his body. It took effort to speak clearly. "Both."
Singed scoffed. If he was afraid of him, he didn't show it. "A primitive explanation. But I expected as much."
Anakin's jaw tightened. "And what do you expect?"
Singed ignored the question, turning instead toward the shattered remains of his equipment. "You are not the first enhanced being to cross my path, Vader. But you, I can see, are different. There is something deeper, beyond mere chemistry." He turned back to Anakin, looking at him as though he were an equation waiting to be solved. "I wish to understand it. And, in turn, help you stabilize."
Anakin's lips curled in disdain. "You don't help anyone but yourself."
Singed chuckled, but did not deny it.
Anakin narrowed his eyes. "Why did you save me in that alley?"
Singed was quiet for a moment. He adjusted the gloves on his hands. "Curiosity."
"That's it?"
"It would have been wasteful to let you die." Singed smiled thinly. "And now that I've seen what you may be capable of, I have no regrets."
Anakin considered that answer. He didn't believe it, not entirely. But he could tell Singed was not the type to spill his true motives so easily. The man was clearly motivated to achieve something. Anakin just had to figure out what it was. Then a thought struck him again, twisting his stomach into knots. His breath came faster. He turned to Singed, his voice sharp. "What planet is this?" He asked again.
Singed blinked at him, clearly puzzled.
Anakin stepped forward, his rage building again. "What world? Where am I?"
Singed studied him carefully now, and for the first time, a flicker of something resembling understanding crossed his face. "You don't know." It wasn't a question.
Anakin wanted to eviscerate everything in his sight. He had assumed—wrongly—that this was some Outer Rim world, one buried deep in the shadows of the galaxy. But the longer he stood here, the more he knew the truth.
He wasn't in the Outer Rim. He wasn't in the Republic. He wasn't anywhere. He could sense it now. The detachment.
Singed leaned forward slightly. "You are not from here, are you?"
Anakin's new hand found a table surface, crumpling it with ease. He had seen many strange things in his life, many impossible feats. But never, not once, had he imagined being torn from his reality entirely. The betrayal he felt, the revenge he sought ran deeper than any wound. But if he was not in his own galaxy…
Singed took a step toward him. "That explains much. The anomaly of your biology, your abilities. You are not simply enhanced. You are alien."
Anakin forced the rising tide of his anger down, but barely. His teeth ground together. "I need a weapon."
Singed arched a brow. "A weapon?"
"You want to study me? I get a weapon. And not just any weapon," Anakin clarified. "A blade of energy, weightless but solid. It should cut through anything."
Singed tilted his head. "Intriguing. How does it function?"
Anakin hesitated. The Jedi would never reveal such things to outsiders. But he was not a Jedi anymore, was he? "It uses a crystal," he started. "A rare kind, one that focuses energy into a blade. Got anything like that?"
Singed hummed. "A crystal, you say…" He turned abruptly, rummaging through a cluttered storage cabinet before returning with a small, metallic case. He opened it with a quiet click, revealing a collection of deep blue hexagonal shards.
"These are hextech crystals," Singed said. "Illegal to own. Highly volatile. Highly powerful." He plucked one from the case, holding it between his fingers. "I suspect they may suffice?"
Anakin reached out, his fingers brushing the surface of the crystals. It thrummed, almost resonating with his touch. It wasn't the same as a kyber crystal, but he could work with it.
"This will do."
-Ω-
The next few days were spent in restless, begrudging cooperation. Singed experimented, adjusting Shimmer levels, testing stabilizers, while Anakin meticulously reconstructed what he remembered of his lightsaber's design. The weapon took shape slowly, built from scrap and precision alike. It was heavier, bulkier, less refined than his original saber, but the hextech crystal pulsed in its core, feeding raw energy into the unstable blade.
Singed never left his side.
Anakin quickly realized that he was not the only subject in this lab. The walls, dark and stained with things he chose not to name, had doors with no windows. He passed them often as Singed guided him through different tests, through rounds of monitoring his vitals, analyzing the way Shimmer burned through his system. He would hear something beyond those doors. A shuffle, a groan, something too guttural to be human. And Singed, when asked, merely smiled.
"Progress," he would say.
Anakin was not sure what was worse. The things that remained behind those doors or the man that oversaw them.
The lab itself was a place of nightmares. He had been in warzones. He had seen mass graves, the bodies of young and old piled like debris. And yet, there was something deeply unsettling about this place. Something even the Force whispered against. It was as if the walls themselves had absorbed every scream, every failed experiment, and had learned to remain silent.
Yet, for all of that, Singed fascinated him.
He spoke to Anakin not as some subordinate, not as somebody who constantly should be put down. And as much as Anakin loathed to admit it, he found himself listening.
Through Singed, he learned about Runeterra. The two cities he now resided in. The way Piltover and Zaun clashed, one city built upon another. The wealth above and the sickness below. He learned of the chem-barons, enforcers, of the rising war.
Anakin had thought the Republic was corrupt. This world? It was much the same. It did not pretend to be anything but broken.
One night, after another grueling round of tests, Anakin found himself staring at one of Singed's computers. The screen flickered, displaying information in a language he had quickly adapted to. He scrolled through maps, through history, through notes detailing centuries of conflict.
There was always war. No matter the galaxy, no matter the world. People would always find ways to kill each other.
But as he continued reading, another thought took hold. The technology here. Hextech, Shimmer, things he could not yet fully comprehend, held potential. He had spent the last few days in denial, raging against his entrapment, but the reality was undeniable.
He was stuck here.
For the first time, he accepted it.
If he was to survive, to regain control over himself, he would have to adapt. And if he could adapt, he could learn. If he could learn, then perhaps he could find a way back. There was power in the technology he studied, in the crystals he worked with. If this world had already broken the rules of nature, then surely, there was a way to bend them back in his favor.
Still, guilt gnawed at him.
His hands twitched as he reached out through the Force, almost instinctually. Not for Singed. Not for any of these wretched souls. No. He reached for her.
Padmé.
She was alive. She had to be. He had not killed her. He refused to believe that.
The Force stretched outward, rippling past the confines of his body, through the lab, through the city, through the very sky itself. He sought her warmth, the familiar presence that had always tethered him, that had always reminded him of who he was beneath the war, beneath the anger.
Nothing.
A void swallowed his call. A silence so absolute it made his chest tighten, his breath hitch.
He reached further, desperate.
Still, nothing.
He withdrew with a gasp, his body shaking from more than just exhaustion. The pain was unbearable. For the first time in a long time, he felt…
Lost.
A voice broke through his thoughts. "You are not eating."
Anakin blinked, refocusing. Singed stood at the opposite end of the room, watching him with that same detached interest. He gestured to a tray of food beside him, though Anakin hadn't even noticed it had been placed there.
"I'm not hungry," Anakin muttered, forcing his hands to still.
"Even machines require fuel." Singed adjusted something in a vial, his fingers tapping methodically. "The body is no different."
"You talk as if you aren't human." Anakin said.
Singed gave him a look that was almost amused. "Perhaps I have evolved beyond such classification."
Anakin scoffed but said nothing. He wasn't sure if it was an insult or a warning.
They worked in silence after that, Anakin forcing himself to focus on not accidentally teleporting across the lab. With the speed at which he was able to move when tapping into the Shimmer that flowed within him, he could only begin to imagine what he might be able to achieve. In front of him on a workbench, his new weapon sat finished. It was not elegant. It lacked the finesse of his old lightsaber, but it was his. The first time he activated it, the lab was bathed in a violent, crackling glow. Deadly.
It wasn't perfect. But it would do.
As he turned the blade over in his grip, he cast Singed a glance. "And you?"
Singed barely looked up from his notes. "What about me?"
"You play no part in this war?"
"A war is simply a larger experiment. One where the variables are often out of control." He met Anakin's gaze, unreadable. "I prefer control."
Anakin studied him for a moment longer before shutting off his blade. He had his answer.
Singed was no different than the men Anakin had once sworn allegiance to. No different than the ones who had twisted him, shaped him into something he no longer recognized. And yet, as Anakin glanced toward the locked doors, he wondered which of the two of them had truly lost their humanity first.
-Ω-
Anakin stood before the exit of the lab, the hilt of his hexblade hanging at his side. He turned to Singed. "I've stayed here long enough."
Singed barely paused his work, adjusting one of his machines. "You are not yet stable. There is more to unlock with you."
Anakin gripped his new weapon, thumb on the trigger. "Enough tests. You've got enough out of me."
Singed finally turned, his single eye unblinking. Then, with a quiet hum, he set his tools aside and clasped his hands behind his back. "You misunderstand. Science is never complete."
"And I'm grateful," Anakin admitted, the words feeling foreign in his mouth. "You saved my life. You gave me something I had lost." He straightened his legs, feeling the smooth movement of his new limbs. "But I will not be an experiment any longer. I don't think you quite understand the person I am."
"You need me, whether you admit it or not." Singed fixed the mask covering half his face. "It is only I that can fine tune your enhancements."
"Perhaps," Anakin raised his shoulders, "But I also need to see this world for myself."
"There is much you do not yet understand." Singed looked disappointed. "But very well," he inched toward a control panel. The heavy steel doors to the lab groaned as they unlocked. "But be warned, Vader. Zaun is no kinder than I am."
Anakin snorted, stepping forward. "Then I'll feel right at home."
Singed's voice followed him as he walked through the threshold. "You will return."
Anakin didn't look back.
The world awaited.
-Ω-
Anakin sat hunched in a corner of a derelict alley.
He flexed his cybernetic hand, the polished metal reflecting what little light shone upon him. He looked down at the clothes he was fitted in. He needed to find something else to wear. Probably something that didn't scream, 'Lost Science Experiment.' He needed a lot of things.
A soft sound broke through his self-pity.
He looked up. In the shadows across, huddled amongst a pile of discarded waste, was a small form. A child. Girl, probably. He hadn't noticed her before, even though she'd probably been there the whole time. She couldn't have been more than six or seven, her face smudged with grime, her eyes wide and wary. She clutched a ragged doll, its one remaining button eye staring blankly ahead.
Anakin felt a pang, a sharp, unexpected ache. He knew that look. Fear. Abandonment. He'd seen it in the mirror often enough. He'd seen it in the faces of children on a thousand planets. He'd seen it in the eyes of younglings…
He pushed his memories aside. He couldn't afford that now. Not here.
"Hey," he said, his voice rougher than he intended. He tried to soften it, but the sound still scraped like sandpaper. "You alright?"
The girl flinched, shrinking further into the shadows. She didn't answer, just stared at him with those huge, frightened eyes.
Anakin sighed. He wasn't good at this. He'd never been good at this.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he held up his hands, palms open. "I just… I need a place to rest. For a bit." He looked around the alley. "Sorry if I stole your spot."
The girl remained silent. Anakin could tell she was fixed on his metal limbs, probably the glow of the Shimmer running through them.
He shifted, scooting his back forward. "I used to know someone," he began, the words spilling out before he could stop them. He wasn't sure why he was talking, why he was telling this to a terrified child in the depths of a city he didn't even know. "She was good with kids. With everyone, really. She could make anyone feel safe."
He stopped to cough, turning over as he deposited phlegm onto the ground. When he turned back, he was surprised to find the girl had moved closer to him. Her small hand, hesitantly, reached out and touched the ragged doll she held, tracing the outline of its missing eye. Then, she looked up at Anakin, a question in her own eyes.
Anakin frowned. "Are you asking me if I did that?"
She shook her head, repeating the motion with her fingers.
"I don't understand." He tried to reach his hand out toward her, but she stepped away.
That's when it clicked.
"Are you asking if I'm a bad guy?" He sighed and leaned back against the hard wall. "I… I don't know," he admitted. "I've done bad things. Terrible things."
He looked at the girl, at her innocent, questioning eyes,
"I'm just lost. Like you."
The girl studied him for a moment, then slowly moved back closer, sitting down a few feet away. Her presence now felt less hostile. Less afraid.
"You don't talk, do you?" He asked.
She shook her head.
"It's alright," Anakin said, offering a tired nod. "I'm not much of a talker myself, these days. My name is," a beat of silence passed, "Anakin."
The girl blinked, staring at him like he was the only thing around. Like it was just the two of them in this world. Slowly, she reached into the folds of her clothing and pulled out a small, smooth stone. She held it out to him, her offering. On the stone, crudely scratched, was a single word: Isha.
Author's Note:
Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading! Hope you're excited for what's to come and what I'm setting up :) Feedback always appreciated!