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BIRTH OF THE HUNTER
First there was a crash.
A fire. A man, pulling me from the wreckage of my ship. And her, my lover, my dead lover, bending over me, beckoning me forth. To death, sweet peace.
A violent shock. She is ripped away, replaced by the man who saved me, lightning erupting from his fingertips, blue light throwing his features into harsh, flickering relief. I moan, toss my head, cry out her name.
Another blue flash.
- - - - -
Nothing but pain.
Footsteps. The swish of a door--open and close. Two shadows. Voices. Voices whispering far too loudly, voices spiking my head with pain, voices speaking...of me.
A cry interrupts them. The shadows lean over me, murmuring.
"He needs more tranquilizer," one whispers, and it takes me a long moment to register that the cry had been mine.
Footsteps fade. One shadow is left, motionless. I grit my teeth against the wall of agony.
"Where am I?" I attempt to ask, but nothing issues forth except a string of grunts. The shadow lays a humanoid hand on my scorched head.
"Please don't strain yourself," he says kindly--it is a male voice. "The fire burned you so severely that...I'm afraid you no longer possess vocal chords."
The hand strokes me gently, but I am not calmed. Wherever I am, I don't want to be here! I want her, I want her to hold me, I want death. Not this! I want to die!
The shadow says, "No, you don't."
Now I'm intrigued. He knows--
"What you're thinking?" the shadow responds. "Yes. My mastery of the Force--"
But the rest of his sentence, drowned in a surge of rage, never saw the light. JEDI! I mentally scream. My hand comes up, slaps his away. Feebly.
"No," his reply comes, short and sharp, as vehement as mine. "Do notmake that mistake. I am something different. Something stronger." He pauses, then adds, "I am Sith."
The word strikes a bell. The Sith. A tale used to frighten children. The eternal enemy of the Jedi.
The shadow leans forward, over me. Fabric rustles softly. "You are correct," he whispers. "We are the antithesis of the Jedi. We saved you." He anticipates my next question. "Why? Because we want you. We need your help, General. And we can help you in return."
I can guess how they will help me.
Kill all those who did this to me. Our common foe.
Kill them all.
Footsteps return. A second shadow joins the first. A pinprick on my arm.
"Soon," the first shadow announces, "You will be rebuilt. Brought back from the grave. You will be the greatest hunter this galaxy has ever known. Your victims will cower before as you extract your rightful retribution. Take heed of my words, General."
I do. And as I slip away, senses choked by the tranquilizer, I think of revenge, of killing Jedi.
And I see her face...
- - - - -
Standing over the broken, prostrate form on the bed before him, Lord Tyranus allowed himself the smallest of smiles. He turned to the medic droid.
"Begin the surgery."
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, I have another Grievous fic (drabble) up, titled "I, Grievous."