“Do you think you're capable?”

  “Capable?” He almost laughed out loud at his employer, something he commonly had to do. More often than not, it was people who grossly underestimated how much his time was worth, only offering a pittance for his services. However, he would rarely get an offer where they assumed any amount of credits was worth his life.

  “What you are asking of me is suicide, No? You think my life is worth this measly amount of credits?” Cad Bane spat.

  “I wouldn’t trust anyone with this mission with anyone else. If I needed heads to roll, I could hire twenty different men for the same price; instead, I’m paying you. Instead, I chose quality. I need a specialist. That’s what you are, or have you lied about that?”

  Cad Bane gave an annoyed hum. Jango, his brief mentor, had built his legacy on one title very few could earn the right to: ‘Jedi Killer’. There was no greater achievement for a bounty hunter than to kill the most dangerous of prey. In his own stupidity, he had believed that he too could relish in the glory that title gave, how stupid of him.

  “I’m just curious that you would come to me with such a ‘prestigious’ contract.” Bane rolled his eyes. “Why not hire the Mando? I’ve heard whispers that you and he are quite the pair.”

  Certainly not whispers that he would tell him about. Bane was all for mocking, but the key to humiliation was to know your enemy. This man was not someone to tease about the whispers of the Count preferring the company of the Mando

  “Fett is needed elsewhere.” Bane narrowed his eyes at the dismissal.

  For whatever reason, Fett hadn’t been seen as much in the bounty hunter space as he used to. People tend to notice when one of the best suddenly disappears. Though, he still took the occasional mission, something to keep the rest of them all on their toes, a message saying ‘I’m still here’. How this man could afford so much of Fett’s time was astounding. Entire systems had less wealth than this man was throwing around.

  “He rejected you. You want dead Jedi, you go to that Mandalorian bastard. The only reason he doesn’t take a contract is if you can’t afford him or it’s not worth the effort. I’m proud of my work, but I’m no fool either.”

  “I don’t need any dead Jedi, just a girl.”

  “I’ve looked at the mission details. That’s like saying you ‘don’t need to kill any bees, just the queen’, as you give me a stick and point me at the nearest hive.”

  “Perhaps I misjudged you. Though you aren’t the only ‘Jedi Killer’ in the galaxy. Aurra Sing has the talent and lacks the fear you do. Strange, the Palliduvan women have the balls while the Duros men have the purse.” A primal growl escaped his lips. He was better than this, letting his pride take missions rather than his head. But fuck, he couldn’t say no. If word got out, he took a mission Jango rejected his name would be finally at the top of the contact list. The go-to-man. No longer the second pick.

  “I’ll take your blasted contract.” The holo of the man smiled at his spat-out words. “Under one condition. You tell every spice dealer to Hutt crime lord that when you needed a man dead, you came to Cad Bane first.”

  “Of course,” the blue holo of the man nodded before disappearing with a static hiss. A lie, a painfully obvious one. Still, this would be a big boost to his reputation.

  “Amidala, huh. Wonder what this dame did to get such a bounty.”

  “Anakin!”

  Padme huffed, grasping her knees as her chest heaved. She was not built for cardio, or really any sort of physical labour. Why could she taste her heart? How did some people consider this torture fun?

  “Ani-, oh god, air- Anikin,” she gasped between breaths. “I’m here to save you!”

  “My hero.” He groaned, his voice carrying a strange static.

  Anakin had kept his blue eyes, but instead of an ocean they were reminiscent of the blue glow of a computer screen lacking its uniqueness. His skin was erratic, glitching every so often, his being hollow in a more literal sense rather than the usual emotional.

  He wasn’t even here; they instead just had a holo from wherever he was being kept.

  “Senator Amidala.” A human with a darker tone of skin stared at her with clear displeasure. “I do hope you have a good reason for the sudden intrusion.”

  There were fourteen of them in a room not including herself. Obi-Wan, Anakin, the small green alien she had come to know as Yoda after the MCA fiasco, along with eleven others she didn’t recognise. Judging, though by the way most of them looked at her with disdain she could tell they were all high-ranking Jedi.

  “Hello, Jedi.” Were they masters? Knights? Was a master or knight higher? It was too confusing. She had met Jedi whose Padawans called them master, though he said he was just a knight. Was master a rank or something just said out of respect?

  “Hello, Senator.” A man with a large head forehead spoke, though he spat Senator out like it was vomit. “Though as you can see we are dealing with Jedi business, and you, are not a Jedi. We can deal with whatever grievance you have but you will have to come later.”

  “Anakin is no Jedi.” She spat, causing the blue holo of the man to widen his eyes. “You would remove him too?”

  “That’s… complicated.”

  “Stay she shall, important insights into his character she has.” Yoda tapped his walking stick. Being one of the few she recognised.

  “Take a seat young Amidala,” Anakin giggled to himself, a little inside joke that left everyone in the room confused.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Obi-Wan scowled standing next to her near the doorway. He looked awful, well as awful as he could. Padme was aware enough to acknowledge he was handsome, but his smile had drooped to a permanent frown. A souring aspect in what would have been a sweet man.

  “Shouldn’t you be in the hospital somewhere, telling people it’s their fault?” She sneered back, finding herself next to him.

  “It was for your own good.”

  “Oh yeah, cause this is just wonderful right now.”

  “Because you won’t leave him.” He hissed.

  “Ahem,” A static cough interrupted the two of them, “is it too late to represent myself?”

  “Yes!” Both she and Obi-Wan growled in unison, earning them both a roll of the eyes.

  “Look, we both want Anakin not to be in prison the rest of his life.” She nodded at Obi-Wan, “But for this to work, we got to work together.”

  “I suppose.” She bit the inside of her cheek; a sick part of her wanted to do this by herself. Be Anakin’s saviour for once.

  “Yoda, Oppo Rancisis, Coleman Trebor, Billaba, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Shaaki Ti, Mace Windu, Eeth Koth, Saesee Tiin.” Obi-Wan continued. “They are all the Council members, excluding Plo, who is absent.”

  Plo Koon was also a master? She supposed he was missing because he had spent all his time watching her. Shame, the stalker was maybe the closest thing she had to a friend in the Jedi Order.

  “You don’t need to convince all of them, though,” Anakin hummed. “Just the frog and the tight arse. The rest will follow like the drones they are.”

  The frog she could guess was Yoda, Anakin’s causal racism while problematic, was at least clear. The tight arse however, that was a little more difficult but considering that the darker-skinned man with bald head seemed to be a hair’s width away from a brain aneurysm, she could figure it out.

  “I got this, you aren’t really a politician,” Padme said, the words leaving Obi-Wan looking appalled.

  “We have time to build an arguement, let’s-”

  She didn’t hear the rest, she was already in the centre of the room looking dead at Yoda and Mace.

  “According to Republic criminal code 34 to 42, a person is not guilty so long: they believe on reasonable grounds that force is being used against them or another person or that a threat of force is being made against them or another person; the act that constitutes the offence is committed for the purpose of defending or protecting themselves or the other person from that use or threat of force and finally; the act committed is reasonable in the circumstances.” She recited like a drawn-out speech.

  She could win this if she buries them in legal jargon. In a perfect Galaxy where innocence was determined by evidence rather than wealth, she would lose. However, this Galaxy was cold, harsh and grossly in favour of the rich. Something she was. Appeals, delays, and adjournment. If they wanted to put Anakin in a cell, they would have to crawl over the miserable hellscape that was the legal system.

  “Padme, this isn’t a legal case.” Obi-Wan whispered next to her.

  “What?”

  “Amidala, you seemed to be misinformed about the nature of this trial,” Mace explained with all the sympathy that someone like him was capable of.

  “This is why Senators shouldn’t interfere with Jedi business.” Another Master groaned.

  “The nature of this trial is not to determine his actions rather than the risk he poses to falling to the Dark Side.”

  “That’s not illegal! The freedom to practice any religion has been built into our amendments ever since Pius Dea.”

  “Right you are,” Yoda nodded. “However, sometimes what is legal is not always what is right. Sith, using loopholes and exploits. Time after time the Republic suffers. Given special privileges Jedi are.”

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  “That can’t be legal.” She whined,

  “Old laws they are,” Yoda admitted. “Still accessible, they remain. Forgotten things easily are.”

  “Due to the difficulty of proving something like the Dark Side, in special cases If we deem an individual a threat we are given the right by the Republic to hold individuals for extended periods of time.” Mace answered for him.

  “Or even execute.” The one with the large forehead narrowed his eyes at Anakin, the clear threat hanging in the air.

  “The Dark Side is no reason for punishment.” Finally, Obi-Wan spoke up. He looked tired.

  “If we slaughtered every Dark Side use,r then why are we not currently hunting the covens of Night Witches on Dathomir?”

  “Because the Witches hide behind domesticated Rancors and magick, whilst Skywalker remains in a cell beneath our temple.” Coleman explained.

  “Our duty as Jedi is not the slaughter of threats but the protection of the people. We are guardians, not war-mongers.”

  “Wise words, Kenobi speaks. The people of the Galaxy, always first they come. If Anakin is no threat, free he is. To walk away from the Jedi, no crime has been done.” Yoda nodded.

  Obi-Wan let out a small sigh of relief, while Anakin only narrowed his eyes.

  “Kenobi, your defence is reliant on the fact Anakin is merely an Ex-Jedi, that he is no threat to let walk away,” Mace raised a brow. “If Anakin were to be suspected of being allied with the Sith, would you not agree that his imprisonment would be necessary?”

  “Anakin is no Sith.” His anger was almost physical. Padme could see he meant it in his heart, his eyes, as tired as they were, stood like steel. He sounded so sure Padme was almost sure it was true. However, the sad smile on Anakin told her otherwise.

  “That we can agree on, the Sith died on Naboo, seen to by Kenobi himself.” It was actually the man with the large forehead who agreed.

  “We gave reason to suspect that the man Kenobi had killed was not the only member of the Sith. There is always two, a master and an apprentice.” Yoda seemed to take a long drag. “Under recent circumstances, suspect apprentice we do.”

  “You believe the boy to be the apprentice?” Obi-Wan scoffed, “That’s impossible. Anakin had lived his life as a slave.”

  “Not Anakin. A failure of my own is at fault.”

  “Please, Master Yoda, now is not the time for riddles.”

  “Dooku.” The answer came from her surprisingly. She had long known Dooku was a Jedi, but so high standing? The apprentice of Yoda himself? His morals seemed so far cry from what the Jedi seemed to teach.

  “Dooku may have left the order, but he is no Sith.” The woman Obi-Wan pointed out as Shaaki Ti spoke. “Right?”

  Yoda nodded to Mace, who produced a recording device from his robe.

  No, not him.

  A large Hutt sparked to life in a similar blue static to Anakin. She could feel the bile rising in her throat. Grakkus. How was he such a pain even now? Words ran like hurried water from the recording, his voice not keeping up with the speed, until.

  “His blade was like a Rudy storm of fire.” His horrid voice hurled.

  “A ruby blade… he wouldn’t have bled his kyber, would he?” A master murmured.

  “Master Jedi,” Grakkus smirked. “I am something of a fan of you and your order. After meeting with the Count, I did some research on myself. Found old texts of ruby blades, fingers when pointed, turning men to ash. I have no video; the Amidala ruined any proof when she messed with my ship’s generator. But, if you're looking for a Sith, I wouldn’t look too far.” Grakkus froze when Mace clicked a button, pausing the recording.

  “Dooku had always been critical of the Republic, but he had always cared about the people.” An Iridonian said.

  “The path to the Dark Side, paved with good intentions it is.” Yoda said.

  “How long, how long have you known?” Billaba asked, her voice carrying a clear annoyance.

  “Since the senate meeting.”

  “The MCA,” Obi-Wan spelt out for the audience, his own mind connecting the dots. “That’s why you supported it. You suspect Dooku of creating a Sith shadow government?”

  “Indeed, we are arriving late to a war. We need every resource we have available to us.” Mace answered.

  Anakin laughed.

  “Something funny, Skywalker?”

  “Arriving late to a war,” he smirked “That’s a good one. Fuck, he really does have you guys by the balls, doesn’t he?”

  “I wouldn’t laugh if I were you.” Mace’s eyes were dangerous. With a click of his Grakkus came alive again, this time sped up as a conversation too quick to listen to passed until once again it came to an understandable speed.

  “What sort of relationship would you say Anakin Skywalker has with Dooku?” A voice from the recording echoed.

  “Skywalker?” Grakkus gave a look of confusion trying to recall Anakin. Though the face of disgust which followed “Oh, Vader. Vader hated him!”

  At least Grakkus wasn’t completely useless.

  “No connection then?” The voice asked.

  “Well… I wouldn’t say that,” Damnit Grakkus. “As you can imagine, in my line of work I deal with a lot of addicts. You offer him a crack pipe and a whore he’ll sell out his own flesh and blood. Dooku certainly wanted him. After Vader rejected him, he tried to buy him off me, but the Republic woman had already bought him. Shame too, he was offering a much higher price. In the end, Dooku mentioned he only got six months.”

  “Six months?”

  “Vader and Dooku had come to an agreement, for six months Vader would be his slave.” Grakkus died when Mace put him back in his sleeve.

  “Let’s see everything Anakin has done since his meeting with Dooku. Infiltrate the Senate, expose Jedi secrets not even the Council knew, manipulate Amidala to release a slander article, turn the people against the Jedi, and even expose himself as a Dark Side user. If these are not the actions of a Sith spy than what are?” Mace spoke to the crowd.

  “Anakin was against me releasing the article!” Padme growled, her own anger reaching to match Windu’s.

  “Yet you still did, no? He has seduced you to do his bidding without you even realising it. Amidala you are a victim of the Dark Side.” Seduced her?! How dare they? Damnit her cheeks were burning just at the word like some teenage girl.

  “How would you describe your and Anakin’s relationship?” He continued.

  An elbow from Obi-Wan brought her away from the conversation for a brief moment. A warning, to be careful.

  “We have a professional relationship between employee and employer.”

  “That is what you say, but your feelings betray you, Amidala.” Mace didn’t look at her instead looked to the other masters. “Her emotions are like wildfire, you can all sense it too.”

  “Longing.” Wait.

  “Want.” Stop.

  “Passion.” Enough!

  “You may have a professional relationship, but that’s not what you desire.”

  “Whoa, hang on.” Why did her heart feel so heavy?

  “You lie to us, Senator.” Ki-Adi-Mundi glared at her. “If we cannot trust you to speak the truth here, how can we expect you to be truthful before?’

  “Leave her alone.” A cold, static voice cut through the voices.

  “You are not in a position to giv-”

  “ SILENCE! ”

  “You lack control Skywalker, this does not bode well for your case.” Mace spoke up, being one ofthe few who weren’t still sitting shocked in their chair.

  “Shut it,” Anakin’s voice cut down Mace’s own. “You all sit on your thrones bought for you by a government built on an exploitation far enough from The Core you can ferign innocence. Your compliance is sickening. An order of peacekeepers who help all they can see is useless so long as you are all near-sighted. I am like you am guilty.”

  “Anakin, no.” Obi-Wan gave a silent, tearless cry.

  “I am guilty.” He repeated. “Of falling to the Dark Side, of joining the Sith. I am everything you say openly and all of your whispers. Murderer, kidnapper, blackmailer, thief, slicer, terrorist, drug dealer, insurrectionist, torturer. I am everything you imagine and worse. I have committed every sin there has ever been, and if I had not, then men under my command have in my name. My war is not one of justice, of some moral fight between right and wrong. I do not dream of a Galaxy in peace, nor do I pretend the crimes I commit carry the romance of some Robin Hood. No. My war is bloody, is it violent, it is selfish.”

  Opening his eyes, Padme saw the change in his iris. They were still a static blue from the holo, but now it looked like tendrils of fire were reaching out behind the pupil. She had only seen those eyes once before, in her dream. Where she knew those eyes were sickly yellow. Eyes of molten fury with the pupil acting as a cold eclipse.

  “I am desperate. Unbelievably so. I will break the spine of this Galaxy over my knee to get what I want. If you seek an apology, then you will not receive one.” He was sinking himself, blinded by his own anger. “You all fear that I am part of the second coming of the Sith. Let me put your fears to rest. I am worse, I am Sith, I am Jedi, I am Chosen, I am Revan’s Second Coming, I am Ash Lord, I am Hero of the Republic, I am Breaker of the Core, I am Death.” Why was he saying this? He sounded like an addict on the road, spouting strange fantasies.

  “I. Am. Anakin. Fucking. Skywalker.”

  “Anakin Skywalker,” Mace’s eyes rose to meet his.

  “Thank you for making yourself clear. Under confession of your sins and crimes. We of the Jedi order deem you of-“

  Darkness enveloped them. Not even Anakin’s holo remained, something she felt annoyingly lonely about. Gods, what was happening to her?

  In moments the lights came back on, leaving only the sound of awkwardness as the silence echoed through the room. What had happened? No one seemed to know judging by the confused looks between the masters.

  “Something is wrong?” One of the masters stated, with Padme fighting the urge to point out that much was obvious.

  “A sudden blackout?”

  “The Temple has entered lockdown, emergency power is active.” Mace noticed the beeping on his wrist transmitter beeping in a code Padme had no clue meant. The towering presence stood up, patting down his robe. “It appears the police line is broken; the rioters are inside the temple.”

  The announcement brought a shared gasp between the Jedi. Out of all the outcomes this riot could have had, this was the worst.

  “Did you do this?” Obi-Wan whispered, in his eyes a glimpse of hope. Did he think this was some elaborate plan to free Anakin?

  “No, did you?” He shook his head no.

  Anakin? She wouldn’t put it out of the realm of possibility. He had a way of getting these sorts of things. He couldn’t be responsible, could he?.

  “Mobilise the Temple guard! Protect the archives, get the Younglings here, they must be protected.” Yoda growled, for the first time Padme saw, anger? Perhaps disappointment? He was clearly unhappy.

  “Do not harm civilians, idiots, foolish, uneducated, they are. Still, the Jedi, peacekeepers. Do what is necessary to protect the temple, no more we shall.”

  Padme had to give them credit. They were fast for a bunch of old men and women. In seconds, they were out the door, temple guard by their side.

  “Padme, we must get you somewhere safe,” Obi-Wan spoke. “It’s the least I can do after… all this.”

  “No need.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I’m sure Anakin will find me.”

  “Anakin?” Obi-Wan scoffed. “His cell is powered by an emergency backup and he’s under the watch of the temple guards.”

  “Oh, is that all?” She pouted her lips; she was a little disappointed. She expected more. At least he shouldn’t be too long.

  It would be so easy to rot in this cage. The emergency back-up power had kept his cage alive.

  Heat bit at his fingers as he dragged them across the plasma cage. How long had he had to train since his loop began? 8 months? That sounded right, maybe a bit longer. He’d been jumping all around the Galaxy a lot, for someone who had been trying his best to sit back and relax.

  Stupid pre-loop Anakin spending all his time sneaking out of classes and wasting time pranking the Jedi of the Temple. Had this loop begun when he was a child he could already be stronger than Palpatine. Like a dyslexic child, he tried to piece together the Force like a sentence, frustrated that the words he knew weren’t coming together as they should. The flight of falling from Godhood to mortality.

  In his last loop, his tutaminis had been perfected to the point he could swat away lightsabers like they were insects. Now he struggled to hold open a fucking door.

  The smell of burnt flesh filled the room as his fingertips sizzled, slowly digging deeper into the energy shield. It hurt. It always did. It never got easier… just, more common. Still, he dipped his fingers in deeper. Taking it all in, the energy, the power, the pain, all of it. Tutaminis let him drink in the energy like water. However, Jedi never used Tutaminis to brute force their way through a plasma cell, it was made to absorb the occasional blaster bolt, not to drink in the ocean that was the constant energy being fed through the emitters. The metaphorical cup Anakin used to contain all the power flowing into him was starting to overfill and crack. A few seconds more and he wouldn’t be free, only a charred body sent to repeat the loop once more.

  Why was he even doing this? If he wanted to die, there were better ways than this. Some sort of self-harm? Plausible.

  You love her .

  Palpatine’s voice echoed in his head.

  He had loved thousands of Padmes, all different in their own right. All similar as well. There was something particular about this Padme. She, too, was different, too… present. No longer just a milestone for Anakin to conquer, but something he was actually affected by. Why? Was it just because this was the first time he hadn’t waged war against Palpatine?

  It was… new. The first new thing he had ever experienced in centuries. Sure he could restart and try the same thing again, play it better. He couldn’t, he needed this, craved it. Experience. New. Some fucking feeling. Like an addict, he craved something new. Every loop, every life, he fought Palpatine, eager to finally leave the loops. This loop would not free him; peace was never an option when it came to Palpatine. Wars were fought on plasma-ashened dirt, never on paper.

  But still, he needed this. Those strands of the Light Side he clutched were cut taut as Anakin took thick, sludging steps through the polluted ocean of the Dark Side.

  That bursting cup became bottomless. He didn’t just absorb the energy; the Dark Side fed on it like a pack of wolves ripping its prey to shreds. Fingers, then wrist, biceps, shoulders, even his head, slowly but surely, he dived through the plasma shield like he was swimming through boiling honey. It hurt. It hurt so much, but the pain only made him stronger. One moment he was trapped behind plasma, and the nex,t he was free.

  “Forgive me, Padme.” He sighed, skin smoking hot. “I’ve got people to kill.”