Anakin woke up with a start, breathing hard and feeling totally freaked out for a second. Her heart was racing, and for a moment, she had no idea where she was or what was going on. But then it all started to come back to her—where she was, how she ended up there, and what had happened before. The panic faded a little as she remembered everything.
It's hard to believe, but nearly two full years have passed since she first found herself in this world—a strange place teeming with people who proudly referred to themselves as Heroes. Unlike the world she once knew, this one is home to individuals blessed with extraordinary powers. Some could shatter steel with their bare hands through sheer strength. Others commanded the very elements: manipulating sand like it was an extension of their body, disappearing and reappearing through teleportation, bending metal through magnetism, or generating raw electricity from within. The range of abilities was vast, wild, and sometimes unpredictable.
Yet, despite all the powers she witnessed, there was a noticeable absence—something quietly missing among these gifted individuals. No one, not even the most revered or mysterious of them, seemed to wield abilities tied to the abstract. Powers connected to elusive forces like luck, equilibrium, or deeper cosmic balance were unheard of here. And more significantly, she had never once encountered anyone who could sense or harness the Force in the way she used to. In this entire world, filled with countless powers and possibilities, she stood alone.
She was the only one. The sole Force-user.
And of course, where there are those whom the public calls Heroes, there are also those who stand in opposition—Villains. Individuals who choose to use their powers for personal gain, destruction, or chaos. They rob banks in broad daylight, instill fear through kidnappings and extortion, and chase after their desires with little regard for anyone else. Their motives often seem selfish, and their actions are criminal. But even then, she finds it hard to label all of them as purely evil. Some act out of desperation, others out of anger or a twisted sense of justice. Not all villains, she's come to learn, are entirely without reason or humanity.
Still, there are exceptions. There are those whose darkness runs deeper, whose intentions leave no room for sympathy or understanding. One name stands out in her mind—Sidious. Unlike the complex, sometimes conflicted villains she's seen here, Sidious represents evil in its purest form. A being of malice, manipulation, and power-hungry cruelty. Compared to him, the villains of this world feel almost tame.
But not every individual with powers fits neatly into the categories of Hero or Villain. Some genuinely want to make a difference and long to help others, yet refuse to be bound by the rigid, often restrictive rules that come with being a Pro Hero. These individuals, instead of adhering to the formalities of law and order, choose to act on their own terms, often working outside the law. They might be seen as rebels or outlaws, but they are driven by a sense of justice that isn't always recognized by official channels. These are the Vigilantes—unofficial protectors who operate in the shadows, unafraid of breaking the law if it means saving lives or righting wrongs. Despite their methods, many of them find support from the everyday people they protect. Civilians, who see the Vigilantes as a necessary force in a world where the law sometimes fails to act swiftly enough, offer them a quiet form of approval, even if they can't openly show it.
And then, there's her. Quirkless, powerless, and, in the grand scheme of things, completely insignificant—at least, that's how the world might see her. To many, she's just another face in the crowd, someone who doesn't belong to any particular category. A nobody, overlooked and disregarded.
Or so it seems.
She slowly pushed herself up from the bed, the soft sheets rustling as she shifted. Without much thought, she peeled off her pajamas, the fabric slipping from her body as she grabbed a towel from the nearby rack. Her movements were fluid, almost automatic, as this routine was one she'd repeated a thousand times. She made her way to the bathroom, the coolness of the towel against her skin offering a fleeting moment of comfort.
As she stepped inside, the bright overhead light flickered slightly before settling on her reflection in the mirror. Her gaze locked onto her own image, but it didn't bring her the usual sense of recognition. She frowned, her brow furrowing in a mixture of confusion and quiet disbelief. Her body, once marked by the remnants of her past—a mosaic of prosthetics and artificial replacements—was no longer the same. All the intricate machinery, the synthetic parts that had been part of her for so long, had vanished. In their place, her body was whole again, with flesh, bone, and organs that felt so real, so... alive. Her skin was flawless, almost unnervingly smooth, unmarred by any imperfections. There were no scars, no metal joints, or mechanical limbs to remind her of what she had lost, except for one—a faint, jagged line near her right eye. The scar was the only trace left of the brutal encounter with Ventress, the only reminder of the bloodshed that had once been a part of her. She couldn't help but reach up, her fingers lightly brushing the scar as if to ensure it was real.
In this world, she wasn't the person she could have been. No, here, she was just a regular IT maintenance worker at some nameless, forgettable company—nothing special, just another cog in the machine of the everyday grind. It was almost laughable to think of what she could have become had she chosen a different path. She had the power to be something far greater, something the world might have feared or revered. She could have been a villain, a force of unstoppable chaos. With no other Force-user or Quirks of her caliber, she could have easily risen to the top, carving a path through the world with ruthless precision. Like Darth Vader, she could command respect, or terror, with just a wave of her hand. The very thought of her abilities being used for destruction—it would be effortless.
On the other hand, she could choose to be the hero she had once dreamed of being, the Jedi she had always longed to be. Someone who helped those in need, someone who fought for justice without concern for the dangers or the rules. A vigilante who stood up against the darkness, even if it meant walking the fine line of the law. She could be revered, admired, and perhaps even loved for her sacrifices and bravery. But that life... it didn't appeal to her anymore. The weight of being constantly recognized, of carrying the expectations of others—whether as a villain or a hero—had worn her down.
No, she was done with that. She was tired of the fame, tired of the power, and tired of the expectations. So, she chose the path of anonymity. She chose to blend into the mundane, to be as unnoticeable as possible in this world. She wasn't anyone special here—just a worker who kept the systems running, the quiet person behind the screen, doing her job without fanfare or recognition. She had the power to be something great, but she didn't want that anymore. She was content with being invisible, unnoticed, and, perhaps, at peace with her own quiet existence.
And honestly, she had grown to like it this way. The simplicity of it, the quiet comfort in being unnoticed. Yet, even in her quest for mundanity, there was something about her that seemed impossible to suppress. With her unparalleled expertise in technology, a knowledge that dwarfed anyone else's on the planet, she couldn't help but rise above the masses. It didn't take long before she swiftly climbed the career ladder, her reputation and skill carrying her forward faster than she ever expected.
Now, she found herself at the helm of everything related to IT and technology in the company that had once been a nameless, insignificant entity. It had transformed into a towering, almost absurdly large corporation under her watch—an ironic twist for someone who had only wanted to remain in the background. The company was now preposterously big, and somehow, she was at the top of it all.
It was like she was never meant to be ordinary, no matter how hard she tried. The pull of her talents, her drive, her sheer intellect—it all seemed to push her toward greatness, even when she didn't want it. But honestly, she didn't mind it as much as she thought she would. It was better than the frontlines, better than commanding an army, and better than the constant conflict and chaos of being a hero or villain. She didn't hate it, not really. She had simply grown tired of the endless fighting, the power struggles, and the constant need to be something bigger than herself. She had seen too much bloodshed, too many battles, too many lives destroyed. Now, she just wanted to focus on her work, on something quieter, less chaotic.
Of course, that didn't mean she was completely out of the game. If she saw someone—an innocent—caught in the middle of a fight between a hero and a villain, she wouldn't stand by. She wouldn't let them suffer just because she wanted to stay hidden. Telekinesis was far too useful in those situations. With a flick of her mind, she could redirect falling debris, stop a speeding vehicle, or even throw someone out of harm's way. The best part? No one would ever suspect her. With the designation of being Quirkless, she could act freely, blending into the shadows while still doing good. No one ever looked twice at her. And that was just how she liked it.
"I am sorry, Mother," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible as she stared into the mirror, her own eyes reflecting back at her—a familiar yet distant gaze. She could almost hear her mother's voice in the back of her mind, comforting and guiding her. But that was a lifetime ago, wasn't it? So much had changed, so much had been lost. Yet, as she stood there, the weight of her past still pressed down on her shoulders. The Force, that inexplicable energy that had once been her guiding light, felt so distant now.
She couldn't join her mother, not yet. She had always known there was more for her to do here. The Force had a plan for her, a purpose she still didn't fully understand, one that required her to remain in this world, where she didn't belong. The voices of the past, of all she had once fought for, lingered in her thoughts. She wanted to go back to the world she knew, to reunite with those she had lost, to finally rest and be at peace. But not yet. The Force had other plans.
"Maybe when I finish what you need me to do," she murmured quietly as if speaking to the air itself, "maybe then I'll be able to return to you. Maybe then... I'll be free."
For now, though, her place was here, on this strange, unfamiliar planet, living a life that felt so disconnected from who she used to be. She couldn't predict when, or if, the time would come for her to return home. All she knew was that the Force had set her on this path, and it was one she could not avoid.
After stepping out of the shower, she methodically went through her routine, slipping into the clean uniform that marked her role at the company. The fabric felt familiar and comfortable—yet another part of her mundane existence that she had grown accustomed to. She didn't need to look in the mirror to know she was ready for the day. With a final glance at her reflection, she grabbed her bag and headed out the door.
Rather than driving, as most people would, she preferred the train. Not because of the typical reasons—avoiding the hassle of traffic or not wanting to deal with the stress of parking. No, she had other reasons. It wasn't the fact that she had a history of speeding far beyond the legal limit, weaving through traffic with a recklessness that nearly caused several accidents. Nor was it the somewhat questionable modifications she had made to her prized blue Skyline V3, a car that was anything but ordinary. With its hidden guns, reinforced shields, and speed boosters, no siree.
The train ride, however, was a different story. It was quiet, predictable, and far less... chaotic. As she settled into the seat, she let her mind wander as the city sped by outside the window, a fleeting blur of modern life. The train was a small reprieve from the intense energy she had once carried. Now, she could just be another face in the crowd, someone no one paid much attention to.
Upon arriving at her workplace, she didn't attract a second glance from anyone. The bustling employees shuffled around, each consumed by their own tasks, but she moved with purpose. She greeted her subordinates, offering a casual nod here and a few words of encouragement there, all with the ease of someone who had been in charge for a long time. They knew her, respected her—yet still, no one saw her for what she truly was. A leader, yes, but also someone who had seen far more than they could ever imagine.
She made her way to her office, a small, quiet space at the top of the building. Once inside, she sat down at her desk and booted up her system, the hum of the machinery filling the room. The request she had received was unusual—nothing too out of the ordinary for her line of work, but still, it had caught her attention the first time the request appeared. The client was named "RatGod." A strange name, sure, but that was the least of her concerns. She dove straight into the code, her fingers flying across the keyboard as her mind sharpened, focusing entirely on the task at hand.
By the time she had finished her coding, the late afternoon sunlight had begun to soften, casting long shadows across her office. She leaned back in her chair, stretching, the quiet hum of the computer still resonating around her. It had been a productive day—one of those rare moments where everything had flowed perfectly, and she'd managed to complete the task without much effort. With a small sigh, she powered down the system and grabbed her bag, heading out the door.
The walk to the train station was uneventful at first, the streets filled with the usual after-work crowd—people eager to get home, to relax after a long day. She blended in seamlessly, her thoughts wandering as she made her way down the familiar path. She had nearly reached the station when something strange happened.
A hand shot out from behind, grabbing her by the wrist with surprising force. For a moment, she stood still, caught off guard, trying to process what was happening. The man was taller than her, his grip tight and unyielding. His clothes were ragged, a mix of desperation and wildness in his eyes. It took her a second to register that she had become a hostage—no, more like a human shield, the man pulling her close as he tried to escape something... or someone.
At first, she was just confused. Why had he picked her? Out of all the people walking down this busy street, why her? Was she just an easy target? She could feel the tension in the air, the frantic energy of the situation, and it triggered a deep instinct inside her. Without hesitation, she focused, reaching out with her mind. A simple, subtle probe into his thoughts was all it took.
The answer came quickly, like a flash of insight. The man was being pursued. Not by law enforcement, but by a hero. A Pro Hero, from the feel of it—someone with the kind of power that made even the air vibrate with energy. The villain was desperate, trying to get away, and in his panic, he'd grabbed the first person in his path. Her fingers twitched, but she held herself back for the moment. No need to reveal herself just yet.
Luckily for her, the hero was already in the area, chasing the idiotic villain who had decided to use her as a human shield. She could feel the shift in the air as someone powerful approached. It wasn't long before a flash of blue and yellow appeared in her peripheral vision, and the next thing she knew, the villain was being thrown to the ground with a force that left little doubt as to the hero's strength.
The hero, with his trademark golden hair and vibrant spandex suit, stood tall, beaming as if he'd just won some grand battle. "Don't worry, lady! You're safe now. If you were alone, things could have been worse. Be careful on your way home, lady!" he called out to her, his voice loud and cheerful, his smile wide and almost blinding. The way he posed dramatically, hands on his hips, as though expecting applause, made her roll her eyes.
Ah, now she recognized him. Of course. This wasn't just any hero. This was All Might, the number one Hero in the world. The man whose name was synonymous with justice and hope. The very same hero who could bring entire buildings crashing down with a single punch. No wonder his face had seemed so familiar—he was a living legend. A symbol of power and charisma, someone who could put on a show as easily as he could break a villain's spine.
But, as she stood there, her mind wandered. Could he defeat me? she wondered briefly. The truth was, All Might probably could, but only if she didn't play her cards right. If she had to engage him in a fight, his brute strength was undeniable, but she had powers that could neutralize him before he even got a chance to land a blow. Without revealing her true abilities, of course.
If All Might hadn't shown up, she mused to herself with a faint scoff, I'd have just used Force suggestion or telekinesis to make my escape. The thought of simply manipulating him from afar, clouding his mind so he'd release her without a second thought, was almost laughable. He seemed like the kind of person who would never suspect anything out of the ordinary. And if he proved difficult to control with her mind, well, she had other options. A subtle pull of her lightsaber hilt could easily take care of him, and she had no doubt in her abilities. If All Might didn't step aside when she told him to, she could just as easily use her signature Force Choke—or worse, Force Twist—to incapacitate him. She didn't need a hero.
Her mind shifted for a moment, then she decided against it. She wasn't interested in fighting him today. The world had enough of that kind of violence. Instead, she gave him a fleeting glance, her expression flat but with just enough edge to remind him she was no damsel in distress.
As All Might stood there, still basking in his own theatrics, she felt the faintest temptation stir within her. She could easily use the Force to bend his will, make him forget this whole encounter, or maybe just make him stop talking. After all, it wasn't like she was powerless. She had her new lightsaber tucked away, something she had carefully crafted in the privacy of her own space. A blade of light that could cut through steel and bone with ease—her blade, a symbol of the power she had once wielded so freely.
She could show it to him, flash it for just a moment, and let him know that the unassuming woman in front of him wasn't as defenseless as she appeared. But no. She held herself back. The risk wasn't worth it. If she revealed her true nature, even for a second, it could ruin everything she had built here in this world of mundane normalcy.
She was one of the 20%—the Quirkless. A group of people in this society who had no extraordinary abilities, no flashy powers to call their own. To the outside world, that meant weakness. Powerless. She wasn't supposed to stand out. She wasn't supposed to have anything more than a quiet, unnoticed existence. If she showed him even a glimpse of what she was truly capable of, she'd shatter that carefully constructed image of mediocrity.
With a small, controlled smile, she merely nodded in his direction, acknowledging his assistance without offering any words of thanks. There was no need to express gratitude; it was beneath her. She wasn't some helpless civilian looking for a hero to save her.
Turning on her heel, she began to walk away from the scene. She didn't look back. The last thing she needed was for All Might to say something that would set her off. If he did, he'd learn firsthand that while she might be quiet now, when she snapped—he wouldn't want to be around. Just ask Sidious. Sidious knew better than anyone that she didn't do rage. She controlled it, yes, but when she lost her composure, it could break worlds.
Sidious should be grateful he never saw my real anger, she thought, the memory of their past confrontations flashing through her mind. When he deemed something a "failure" in her eyes, he often paid for it. It wasn't that she had any particular malice for him, but the consequences of crossing her—especially when she was in a state of fury—were catastrophic. When she was angry, it wasn't just her enemies who suffered. The Coruscant Convention had nearly become Coruscant Suggestions a few times during her more volatile moments in the Clone Wars. And the Senate? They had to revise entire sections of their laws because of her actions. She could feel it even now: the subtle shift in her perception of events, the lingering aftertaste of what she had done, what she could do.
Her footsteps quickened as she distanced herself from All Might. She could sense his shock at being so completely and utterly ignored, the force of her indifference leaving him momentarily speechless. His aura flickered, then recovered as quickly as it had faltered. He'll get over it, she mused, not concerned in the slightest. All Might was nothing compared to the people she had faced, to the worlds she had conquered.
As she closed the door behind her, a deep sense of quiet settled over her. The weight of the world outside seemed to dissipate as the familiar comfort of her home embraced her. She stood in the entryway for a moment, allowing herself a brief pause. The faint hum of the apartment, the dull ticking of a clock somewhere in the background, all reminded her of the mundane life she had carefully carved out here.
But as she kicked off her shoes and slipped into more comfortable clothes, her thoughts began to drift, as they always did when she was alone.
She couldn't stay in this world forever. That much was clear. Despite how much she had grown to appreciate the simplicity of her current existence, it was never meant to be permanent. This was just a stop along the way—a detour, perhaps, on her journey toward something far greater, something more meaningful.
In the quiet of her home, she allowed herself the luxury of a deep sigh. She missed her world. Her true world. The one where she had once been a force of nature, where her actions had consequences that shaped galaxies. That was the life she had known, the one she had fought for, and perhaps lost. It was there that she had been truly alive, her power not just a tool but an extension of herself.
One day, I'll return, she thought, though the idea of going back seemed distant, even uncertain. Would she ever get the chance? Would the Force ever deem it right for her to return, or had this world become her new prison—one of peace and quiet, but at the cost of her true identity? She didn't know.
But what she did know was that she couldn't let herself stay here forever. It wasn't just the yearning for a greater purpose but the feeling of being trapped in a world where her power couldn't shine, where she had to hold herself back for the sake of appearances. In the end, she had already sacrificed so much—her powers, her freedom, and her sense of self.
Maybe one day, the Force will call me back, she mused as she wandered into the kitchen, leaning against the counter, staring into nothing. The thought of going back to the life she once led, to her world, felt like a distant dream. But it was a dream worth holding onto. She hadn't been here for long, and in truth, she was already starting to feel the weight of her restraint, the limitations of this world, and its inability to understand her true nature.
The quiet days might have been comforting, but they were slowly wearing thin.