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| “ | Your father was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force. He ceased to be Anakin Skywalker and became Darth Vader. When that happened, the good man that was your father was destroyed.
— Obi-Wan Kenobi to Luke Skywalker
|
” |
An anomaly within the Force seemingly conceived by midi-chlorians, the microscopic beings responsible for the Force, Anakin Skywalker as born a slave on the planet Tatooine and was raised by his mother, Shmi, during their service to the junk dealer Watto. Anakin was adventurous and free-spirited, dreaming of better things and adventures throughout the galaxy, and soon got his opportunity when Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, sensing the boy's potential and believing him to be a mythical "Chosen One" capable of balancing the Force, made a deal with Watto to secure his freedom. While the Jedi Council similarly recognized his power, they feared both his age and emotions could be a hinderance, but reluctantly admitted him following Jinn's death during the Battle of Naboo. Anakin was trained by Jinn's Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and two formed a close bond, with Kenobi often doing his best to rein in the more brash, headstrong Skywalker.
Despite the Jedi's strict rules against emotional attachment, Anakin fell in love with Padme Amidala, the former queen of Naboo turned Senator, and the two carried on a secret relationship while he served as both a general in the Clone Wars and as a mentor to his own apprentice, Ahsoka Tano. He also befriended Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, who quietly manipulated him into distrusting the Jedi, which was aided by Tano leaving the Order, which both shook his faith and cost him a chance at becoming a Jedi Master. Anakin's crisis of faith reached its peak when he was plagued by nightmares of a pregnant Padme dying during child birth, and Palpatine, who was in reality the Sith Lord Darth Sidious, offered to teach him a way to save her life. A desperate Anakin betrayed the Order, leading the clonetroopers in a massacre that wiped out most of the Jedi, and fully fell to the Dark Side, taking a new name for himself: Darth Vader.
His dreams would become self-fulfilling as he, in a fit of rage, mortally wounded Padme before engaging in a duel with Obi-Wan, who badly injured him by burning him in the fires of Mustafar. His connection to the Force crippled, Vader served as chief enforcer of Palpatine, now Emperor, hunting down Jedi and crushing resistance to the Galactic Empire wherever he found it. He would later discover, after killing Obi-Wan and overseeing the Empire's defeat at the Battle of Yavin, that Padme had lived long enough to give birth to twins, one of whom, Luke, was training to be a Jedi. Vader would attempt to convince Luke to join him in overthrowing Palpatine, but his son, sensing the good in him, refused.
Luke's belief in his father's better nature ultimately paid off during a final confrontation with Palpatine, when Vader, refusing to let his son die, intervened, throwing the Emperor to his apparent death and taking fatal damage to his life support. Having finally brought balance, Anakin Skywalker died redeemed, though the name of Vader would continue to be a symbol of hatred and fear across the galaxy, and his grandson Ben Solo would eventually fall to the Dark Side and take the name "Kylo Ren" to continue his grandfather's legacy.
Battle vs. Soldier Boy (TV Series) (by BeastMan14)[]
“Alright, one last inventory check before the hand-off to Stabler.”
The DFPD officer flipped through his clipboard, surveying the sprawled-out items as his partner tapped his foot anxiously. The collection, consisting of weapons seized from their deceased wielders during the pre-emptive strike against the Abbey and it's allies, lay specifically tagged and marked on a blue tarp within the DFPD’s evidence locker. The officer clicked his pen and read out each of the strange, varied collection.
“One wand.”
“Check.”
“One telepathy-proof helmet.”
“Check.”
“One Erin…A-aron…Airin-ah fuck it. One magic sword.”
The other officer took a sip of his coffee and chuckled.
“Check, and it’s called “Arondight”. Your Chicagoan slipped out for a sec there.“
The officer scowled and replied, “Fuck you, you’re from the 9th Ward, asshat. Anyway, one “Arondight”.”
“Like I said, check. There a reason they got us cataloguing it here? Ain’t we supposed to just give this shit back when they’re revived?”
The officer set the clipboard on his desk and shrugged.
“We’re supposed to, yeah. Trouble is, city wanted this shit scrubbed of any “outside influence” before return, just in case one of these idiots tries to start shit up again, so they’re gonna let the magic, sci-fi, and metahuman divisions take a look at it.”
“The fuck does “outside influence” mean? I thought there was no “outside”.”
The officer threw his hands up and let out an exasperated sigh.
“Man, my apartment complex got shut down last week because of a fucking Xenomorph infestation and now I’m submitting a goddamned sword as evidence. I don’t question shit anymore.”
Their discussion was interrupted by Elliot Stabler, with bags under his eyes and a visibly rumpled suit, entering the locker and giving a curt nod to both officers, who returned it. They made no mention of his visibly worse for wear appearance, for stories of his struggles with temporary lodging had been a regular topic of conversation around the department. Putting his hands on his hips, Stabler surveyed the weapons with an impressed whistle.
“You boys got all this catalogued? Not bad.”
The lead officer shrugged again, pointing with his pen towards the boxes behind him.
“Notable stuff, anyway. Got a shitton more boxes full of swords and spears, but those were just from small-time guys.”
Stabler nodded, scratching his chin as he admired Arondight, then said, “Nicely done. Anyhow, I’ll be taking the sword off your hands. You can pack up the rest and hand it off to the back-up when they get here.”
The officers exchanged confused looks.
“You sure you don’t wanna wait and take it all at once?”
Stabler scoffed, letting his hand rest on his badge as a visible reminder of authority, then replied, “Top brass wants me moving the sword ASAP. You wanna keep the brass waiting?”
The officers shook their heads and quickly got to bagging up the sword before packing it into a black case, which earned a chuckle and a quiet, “Yeah, didn’t think so,” from their superior. With a confident smile, he picked up the case and gave a casual salute as he headed out.
“Keep at it, boys.”
As the door closed behind him, the officers glanced at each other, both surprised by the quick exit, then shrugged and got back to work. After a few minutes, the door opened again, and both men looked up, expecting to see Stabler’s back-up, and instead saw the man himself, accompanied by both his partner, Booker Dewitt, and multiple officers. He gave them another curt nod, then stopped as one asked, “You forget something, Stabler?”
He tilted his head quizzically, furrowing his brow, then grunted in annoyance and replied, “Not really in the mood for pranks, fellas. Now, you got the evidence ready to move?”
The lead officer, beginning to ponder if he was being pranked himself, explained, “Yeah, I mean…we just told you that when you picked up the sword.”
Stabler glanced down at the empty spot on the tarp, then looked back to the officers, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“I didn’t take the sword. I just got here, me and Dewitt had a traffic stop on the way in. Now, I suggest you both cut the shit before I start getting really pissed.”
At their superior’s visible frustration, the lead officer raised his hands defensively.
“We’re not messing with you! You just came and got the sword, then said to let your back-up move the rest.”
Stabler glanced to Dewitt, who shared a worried expression, then questioned, “Why the hell would I move the sword without back-up? Why would I do anything without-“
His voice trailed off as realization dawned on him, then he furiously scrambled for his walkie talkie as he ran out of the room, the other officers closely following him.
“Attention all divisions, lock down the station right goddamned now! We got a suspect impersonating an officer, in possession of a high-priority piece of evidence! I repeat, total station lockdown!”
As the bus pulled away from the police station, the sound of sirens already ringing out as steel doors slammed shut, “Stabler” gave a satisfied smile, then reached down and pressed a button on his watch. The disguise faded as the Spy calmly lit a cigarette and hummed a tune to himself, cracking open the case to confirm that he had bagged his prize. Arondight emanated a harsh black and red glow, briefly mesmerizing him before he closed the case and put it by his side. It could certainly fetch a pretty penny if he felt like auctioning it off to the highest bidder, but he already had a buyer. A gray-skinned, pleasantly scary buyer that he hoped to woo.
“Now, I know we’ve been talking about an Oscar for Brendan Fraser and Michelle Yeoh-“
“As they deserve.”
“As they deserve, absolutely. But-“
To emphasize his point, Beast leaned in towards Cfp, resting his arms on the desk that his friend was chained to as he worked, then said, “What about: Oscar for David Lynch? C’mon, he’s a legend, making a turn in a Spielberg picture, that’s the makings of a good campaign.”
Cfp quietly contemplated it, both intrigued by the question and happy to waste his Leo-mandated work time on other topics, then gave a “so-so” hand motion and explained, “Yeah, I can see it, but the trouble is: are the Oscars really gonna snub Ke Huy Quan?”
“Shit, you’re right. Although-“
Beast.
At Leo’s voice ringing in his head, Beast yelped and nearly toppled out of his chair, startling both Cfp and his bodyguard, Kerry Loudermilk, who had, until this point, been leaning against the wall, largely ignoring the conversation in front of her. As Beast took a breath to calm himself, Cfp looked him over with a mixture of confusion and concern.
“You good?”
Settling down, Beast waved off his query.
“Yeah, I just got a message from Leo. Hivemind still takes a little getting used to.”
Don’t tell him we’re talking, dipshit, he’s being punished.
“Hey, fuck you. I technically outrank you.”
You can say that mentally.
Oh, right. Fuck you, I technically-
I heard you the first time. Now, leave the room so we can talk. And tell Cfp to quit dicking around during your weekly visits.
Beast sighed, then looked to Cfp sympathetically and tapped his forehead.
“I gotta take this.”
With a sigh of his own, Cfp reluctantly returned to work, signing off on zoning permits and compensation forms to those attacked during his anti-homeless purges, as Beast stepped out into the hallway of the newly-nationalized Ice-T Puppy Inc.
I was in the middle of Oscar talk, what’s the deal?
Arondight is missing. Seeing as how it’s a weapon that can harm users, I think it’s fairly crucial we recover it before anyone particularly ambitious gets their hands on it.
Wait, why do I have to find it? Can’t the DFSB just handle it?
They’re either pre-occupied with other business or I don’t feel like taking them off assignments, and you’re clearly not busy, so you get this one. Besides, you don’t have to find it, a contact tipped me off that it’s in a Wolves safehouse in the Lower District. It’s heavily guarded, so I’d advise sending in heavy hitters on this. Don’t fuck this up.
With that, Leo’s presence left his mind, and Beast felt an immediate, sweet relief, followed by annoyance at having to play fetch quest for the day. Fortunately, this presented an opportunity to give a new recruit a time to shine. Mumbling to himself about Leo owing him one, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts until his finger landed on “Ramona 1”, then hit “call”. After a few rings, Ramona answered.
“Are you finally coming back to the office? I really don’t think these visits take that long.”
He rolled his eyes, then replied, “Hi to you too, Ramona. And yes, I’m on my way back, but first, I need you to put in a call to a member of the security team. I’ve got a high-risk item that needs recovering, and it’s in the heart of Wolves territory.”
“Geez, that serious? Who am I calling? Kerry?”
“Nah, Kerry’s with me for the day.”
“Spike?”
“It’s his day off. He says it’s because he’s got a match at the fight club, but it’s actually open mic night at the Iceberg Lounge and he’s having a crack at slam poetry again. Don’t tell him I know that.”
“…the Roughnecks?”
“Given what you’ve told me, they’re 0 for 1 on item retrieval, so nah.”
Ramona sighed, putting her head in her hands as she saw the final name on the list, and after a long silence, said, “Please not him. I really, really don’t want to have to go and retrieve him.”
“Why not? He’s the ideal man for the job.”
“I dunno, because he’s a racist blowhard and every other sentence out of his mouth is either disgusting or genuinely disturbing? He’s specifically not in the office because the rest of the team complained about his behavior.”
Beast, taken aback, replied, “Yeah, and the complaints were why I changed Soldier Boy’s schedule so he only works with the Roughnecks. Now, go and grab him. It’s Wednesday, so he should be at the Stacked Deck. Do it and I’ll mark this week’s pay as overtime.”
Ramona thought the offer over, then retorted, “Two weeks overtime pay and next weekend shift off.”
“One week and that Saturday off. Final offer or I give the pay to Ramona 2.”
“…Fine. And y’know, it’s kind of gross that you put numbers next to our-“
With a groan, he ended the call.
Elsewhere in the city, citizens going about their day, some on their way home from work, others out on the town with friends, all cleared the way for the imposing figure marching down the street. His towering stature, heavy breathing, and the dark, unseen energy that seemed to radiate from his body made most avert their eyes, and a select few stopped and stared as he passed by, but all knew better than to stand in the way. Even in the Lower District, one of the city’s harsher areas, the presence of Darth Vader still brought a chill down many a spine.
He came to a stop at one of the apartment complexes, helpfully labelled with an “ED-EM” across the door, and entered inside, trudging up the stairs until he reached a door marked “E. Palpatine (Legends)”. His hand reached for the door knob, but the door simply opened, seemingly in response to his presence, and he bowed his head as he stepped inside. He did not need to scan the small, relatively dingy apartment for long before he felt his master’s presence, seated in a ratty-looking recliner facing away from him and towards the television, screen flickering with images of a cooking show re-run. Vader quickly bowed, lowering himself down to one knee, as the recliner swiveled to reveal his master, the dark lord of the Sith, Darth Sidious. Staring intently at the floor, Vader spoke first.
“What is thy bidding, my master?”
At the sight of his apprentice, technically one of two, before him, Sidious allowed a slight smile to cross his lips.
“Greetings, Lord Vader. I have need of your…abilities. I believe I have determined a means that will allow me, allow us, to escape our squalid, disrespectful living conditions. An alliance of convenience, with Doom and the Wolves.”
Vader’s mask betrayed no emotion, but brief thoughts of doubt crossed his mind. An alliance with a ragtag band of terrorists? With a man that almost certainly fell short of either him or Sidious in terms of power? Seemingly sensing his worry, Sidious chuckled dryly.
“Do not concern yourself with politics, my apprentice. Doom is a means to an end, and when he and I have struck down the masters of this city, then I will strike him down in turn, and this city will be ours. Of course, there is the other Lord Vader, so I would suggest you prove yourself more useful than him before the time comes that I must choose.”
Vader’s fist clenched, his breathing slowing slightly as he suppressed his rage, and he simply asked, “What is the task, Master?”
“The task is simple, Vader, and involves one that I believe you are…quite familiar with. Asajj Ventress and her faction of the Wolves have acquired an object of great power, one that can supposedly lend its wielder enough strength to challenge the Users themselves. I ask that you acquire it, and deliver it to Doom and his allies.”
Vader’s frustration subsided back into confusion.
“Are you certain it is wise to leave such a useful weapon with him? Could we not just take it for ourselves?”
Sidious dismissed the concern with a laugh and a wave of his hand.
“Bah. We will allow Doom to batter himself against our foes for us, and then when he is weak, we will simply take the blade from him. With their leader broken before us, his allies will kneel before me as you do now. Now, you have your mission, Vader: retrieve this weapon, no matter the cost.”
He reached into his robe and tossed a small drive to Vader’s feet, waiting for him to pick it up and inspect it to explain, “This device contains the coordinates of Ventress and her allies safehouse, supplied by a spy within her ranks. They will not know of your arrival until it is far too late.”
Vader clipped the drive to his belt, then responded simply with, “It shall be done, my master.”
And on that final note, Vader stood and left the apartment, his task, and the implied consequences of failing it, clear.
Crinkling her nose reflexively as she stepped out of the star door, Ramona looked warily across the street at the distinct neon sign of the Stacked Deck. She wouldn’t be caught dead in the place under normal circumstances, but very rarely did her employment give her normal circumstances. With a weary groan, she skated across the street and entered the brothel, skating to a step at the front desk, manned, per usual, by a pink-haired, horned woman, who looked up from her book and gave Ramona a catlike grin.
“Flowers! What a pleasant surprise. Did you finally ditch the two-timing boyfriend for a little fun?”
Ramona glowered at her and replied, “One, ew. Two, if Scott and I did break up, I sure as shit wouldn’t come here. Three, you know why I’m here: Soldier Boy. What room?”
“Ah, dear Benjamin. He’s feeling particularly feisty today. Took three girls with him, last I heard was him saying that he could, how did he put it, “do this all day”?”
“Again, ew. Can I just get the room number without hearing the details?”
Still smirking to herself, Chalis shrugged and traced her finger through her book, coming to a stop on one specific page, then answered, “Room 22, sweetheart. And if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Ramona ignored her, grumbling as she walked up the steps to the first floor, ignoring the various grunts, moans, and cries of ecstasy emanating from several of the rooms until she found the one she was looking for. Coming to a stop in front of it, she raised a fist to knock on the door, then hesitated, before taking a deep breath and knocking. On the other side of the door, she heard sounds of pleasure pause, replaced with annoyed grumbling and murmured conversation, then a set of slow, cautious footsteps before the door swung open. Ramona’s senses were immediately assaulted by both a scent she recognized as a strong mix of weed and sweat and the sight of Soldier Boy, clad in a silk robe that he made no effort to close while a blunt hung from his lips.
She first tried to look past him, only to lock eyes with a member of his impromptu harem, a ginger-haired woman wearing little beyond a blood-red corset who waved flirtily at her, which prompted to her instead look down at her feet, earning a chuckle and a lecherous grin from Soldier Boy.
“See anything ya like?”
She sighed and replied, “Can you please close your robe before I smash my skates between your legs?”
He laughed, dryly quipping, “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” before tying the robe shut and taking another drag of the blunt, then blowing the smoke in her face.
“There. Happy?”
“Far from it, but it’ll do. Beast has an assignment from you.”
At the mention of work, Soldier Boy grinned.
“About damn time the commie put me in the field. What’s he got? Smash and grab? Night raid? Bit of recon?”
Ramona glanced past him again, warily eying the women sprawled out across the bed, then leaned in and murmured, “I think it’s best if it stayed confidential, we can discuss outside.”
Soldier Boy shrugged and mumbled, “Suit yourself. Gimme a minute to suit up and say goodbye to the ladies,” before closing the door. Ramona contemplated waiting there, but after a few moments, decided she had had enough of the place and quickly went back down the stairs, flipping the bird at Chalis when she called out, “Come back soon!”
She waited briefly before she was finally, blissfully, joined by Soldier Boy, clad in his full gear, shield strapped across his back while pistol and knife rested in their holsters. Looking him over, she raised a surprised eyebrow.
“You brought your gear with you?”
“Well, I’m sure as shit not wearing civvies around this shithole you call a city. Now, what’s the gig so important I had to get pulled off my leisure time? I had the broads booked for another two hours.”
Ramona initially started to explain the objective, before stopping, biting her lip hesitantly, then asked, “I know I’m going to regret this, but those girls looked a little young, given your…tastes.”
He scoffed and gave her an impressed smirk.
“You reading about what I get up to? Sure you’re not looking to ditch the square?”
“I sign off on your expense reports, asshole. I have to know about it.”
As the two walked down the street, this response earned a bemused laugh from him, then a response of, “Well, if you wanna pry, the girls look young, but they made up for it in experience. Shaak, one with the horns and red skin, was fifty something, while Rayne, who you were eyeing, was about ninety, and Nitara…I never actually got her age, but she did a thing with her teeth that really-“
Shaking her head in a futile effort to push the mental images out of her brain, she held up a hand, silencing him.
“Okay, nevermind, I regret asking. Anyway, your assignment is easy. A raid on a Wolves compound in the Lower District, combined with an item retrieval. Item is, supposedly, high priority, enough that Beast was, for once, light on details, but it’s in a large black case. Hard to miss. I’ll take you to a location close by, and then you move in, retrieve it, and signal for a pick-up. Seem easy?”
Soldier Boy thought it over, then grinned and nodded, boasting, “Point me in the direction of whose skull is getting cracked.”
“And you’re certain it’s the blade?”
The Spy, cigarette dangling from his lips, gave an assured nod and kicked the case across the safehouse floor, where it slid to a stop at the feet of Asajj Ventress. As she gestured for one of her Wolves, clad in distinctive black robes with white masks to distinguish themselves from the faction they broke away from, to pick it up, he plucked the cigarette from his mouth and pointed towards the case.
“See for yourself, mon doux panais.”
The Wolf hesitantly opened the case, then stood back as Ventress and her guards crouched down to look within it, the red of the blade shining brightly across their faces. Satisfied, she clicked the case shut and nodded to one of her men, who ducked into a side room and began rooting around for something. After a few moments, the Wolf exited the room and set a small brown satchel at the Spy’s feet. He poked it open with his shoe, revealing a sizable amount of cash, and looked to Asajj, who crossed her arms expectantly.
“Your payment, Spy. For a job well performed. Now, leave us.”
He slung the satchel over her shoulder, then gave her a flirty wink.
“Are you certain zere is nothing…else that moi could provide? I ave many…talents.”
A disgusted expression flashed across her face, and, for just a moment, her hand rested on the hilt of one of her lightsabers before she calmed herself and responded, through gritted teeth, “For the last time, I have no interest. Now, leave and take the warning, for it will be your last.”
He took a long, smug drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke, before smirking and stepping into the shadows with a quiet chuckle and a response of, “Someday, my dear, you will come around. All zee dames do.”
She scoffed and gestured for her men to get back to work, handing off the case to one Wolf.
“Stash the blade in my quarters. I must meet with our…benefactor. Jatemme, Skarlet, you will accompany me as reinforcements.”
Two of the Wolves, one clad in the more standard robes while the other simply wore the mask alongside red leather, quickly stood on either side of her. Content, she strolled out of the safehouse, and her men did as told, sliding the case underneath her bed before returning to preparing weapons, contacting other safehouses, and carefully reviewing various maps and notes, the results of nearly two years of protracted conflict. Perhaps, with their new weapon, they had a chance to fully establish their dominance over the pretender, Doom, and those he had misled. A loud bang on the front door gave them pause, eyes glued intently forward. After a few tense moments, one of the Wolves drew a pistol, cocked it, and gestured for his cohorts to follow him. Guns trained on the door, the six man team crept forward cautiously, then yelled and scrambled out of the way as the door flew off its hinges, crushing the one man unfortunate enough to be in its path against the wall.
With a shout, the men opened fire into the dust and rubble, only ceasing once their clips had gone dry, and as they reloaded, an armored man wielding an eagle-shaped shield stepped forward and surveyed the crowd with a dismissive expression.
“Y’know, back in my day, when someone knocked on the door, you fucking answered it.”
One of the Wolves abandoned his rifle, drew a pistol, and fired, and Soldier Boy simply deflected and charged forward. Rounds pinged uselessly off both the shield and his body as he moved with brutal efficiency, launching himself forward and knocking the first Wolf aside with a blow from his shield. Another Wolf drew a combat knife and lunged forward, but he easily caught them by the wrist and squeezed, grinning at their pained scream as the bone shattered. With a grunt, he ragdolled them into another Wolf, sending them sprawling across the floor.
As he advanced forward, a Wolf who had armed himself with a shotgun in the chaos raised it and fired, pumping round after round futilely into his shield until he had closed the distance. He grabbed the barrel and crushed it, then yanked the man forcibly forward before driving his shield into his gut. His ribs twisted and mangled, the Wolf weakly gurgled on blood as Soldier Boy let him fall. The last of the Wolves still standing attempted to flee, only for him to forcibly grab him by the collar and slam him into the wall before firmly gripping him by the neck. The Wolf squirmed futility, trying to no avail to free himself as Soldier Boy lifted him off his feet and glared daggers into him.
“Sword. Where?”
The Wolf refused to answer, instead choking, sputtering, and weakly kicking at him, an effort that earned an irritated roll of his eyes from Soldier Boy, who then responded by slamming him into the wall hard enough to leave a dent.
“Gonna try that one more time. Where’s the fucking sword, asshole?”
He tightened his grip, the Wolf crying out as he felt the bones in his neck beginning to strain and pop, and finally, sadly, choked out, “Bed…room, black c-c-case.”
Soldier Boy nodded and released his grip, letting the Wolf fall, gasping for breath. Just as hesteadied himself, he punched him in the face, caving in his skull, then let the bloody remains fall to the floor. Stepping over the broken, groaning bodies of his foes, Soldier Boy entered Asajj’s bedroom and casually tossed the bed aside, curiously eying a black case. He crouched and opened it, and recognizing it as a sword, he nodded and closed it, then grabbed it by the handle and made to exit.
He exited the bedroom to see the last Wolf capable of walking out limping to the back door, and just as he drew his pistol to finish them off, he paused as the door also flew off its hinges, smacking into them and sending them skidding to his feet. Confused, he gingerly set the case down, then placed his foot on top of it as he heard the sound of heavy, robotic breathing from the shadows. A black-armored figure, towering and wielding a glowing blade, stepped into the safehouse, and Soldier Boy could see behind them that nearly a dozen lay dead behind them. As he realized must’ve missed the sounds of the slaughter due to his fight, the figure looked Soldier Boy over, and pointed to the case.
“Hand me the blade, and perhaps I will allow you to leave with your life.”
Soldier Boy gave Vader his own once-over, then scoffed. The voice shook loose buried memories, and a small smirk crossed his lips as he recognized just exactly who was facing him.
“Thought you were a made-up movie monster?”
Vader advanced towards him.
“I will show you exactly how real I am if you do not hand me that case.”
At this, Soldier Boy laughed.
“Yeah, not taking any orders from someone who looks like a walking dildo. Come any closer and I’ll shove that sword so far up your ass, they’ll be able to use your head as a nightlight.”
Vader raised his hand, and Soldier Boy staggered as the case rattled underneath his feet, forcing him to drive his foot down, trapping it in place as it shook and attempted to go forward. Using the momentary concentration to his advantage, he fired his pistol at the Sith Lord, who raised his saber and blocked each shot, grunting in pain as he felt the superheated bullets dig into his armor. Soldier Boy charged forward and rammed his shield into Vader’s chest, knocking him backwards, then chained it into an uppercut. As he tried to follow-up, Vader raised his lightsaber and blocked it, both men digging their heels in as their weapons. He put the Force behind himself as he shoved forward, staggering Soldier Boy once more, then followed-up with an overhead strike that his foe just barely blocked.
He lumbered forward, swinging again and again as sparks flew from Soldier Boy’s shield, then made a pushing motion with his hand, sending him flying through a wall and out of the building. He tumbled into the abandoned lot the house had been located on, ruins of the city’s abandoned slums, and clumsily stood to his feet, shaking rubble out of his hair and cursing under his breath. Vader bent down to grab the case, only for Soldier Boy to draw his gun and fire again, the shot pinging off the side of his helmet and drawing his ire. He tossed a piece of rubble at him, then another, then another, each one forcing Soldier Boy to raise his shield and weather each impact until the cyborg lifted a table and hurled it at full speed, causing it to splinter on impact, the sheer force sending the super-soldier skidding backwards.
Soldier Boy lowered his shield and admired the wreckage, impressed.
“Not bad. That all you got?”
Wordlessly, Vader raised his hand to the ceiling, kept it raised as the entire building shook, then brought it down, causing most of the roof to collapse onto Soldier Boy, who yelled a curse as he covered himself seconds before being buried. Glaring at the rubble, he waited several moments for any movement or signs of life, then confidently turned and walked back to the case. Just as he had grabbed it, the rubble began to shift, shaking and falling apart until Soldier Boy, eyes full of rage, burst free from it. He charged forward, parrying Vader’s renewed assault of Force thrown objects with his shield until he had closed the distance, then stabbed forward with it, a blow that Vader easily blocked with his lightsaber, leaving him open to a dizzying right hook. Caught off-guard, Vader swung wildly and Soldier Boy ducked under it and landed a combo of hits with both his fist and his shield that forced him backwards. Ducking and weaving underneath lightsaber swings, he landed a final punch to his foe’s life support panel, noting the way Vader’s breath hitched upon the strike.
He struck again, gripping onto the panel and squeezing with a blood-thirsty smirk. As Vader tried to pry his grip loose, he squeezed harder, leaning in to look him in the eyes of his helmet, then raised his shield for a killing blow. He ignored the pain in his shoulder and the scent of boiling flesh as Vader attempted to drive his saber into it in an effort to loosen the grip.
“I take it you need this to breath, yeah? Thought you were hot shit, but without this, you’re just another useless, fucking-“
Soldier Boy’s arm shook with momentum as the Force held it back, and with a flick of the wrist, sent him flying across the room. He tried to stand, but Vader simply flung him into the right wall, then the left, then lifted him into the air, arms locked at his side, before viciously slamming him into the floor. He took several steps closer, pushing harder against Soldier Boy until the man’s face ground itself against the floor. As he struggled weakly, his hands flew to his throat, the pressure travelling upwards until it was crushing his neck.
His vision faded, his breathing became more and ragged, and he continued to struggle, feeling an intense burning in his chest. The last time it had been like this, it was Vought Tower, and Nicaragua, and it had led to the box. He couldn’t go back in the box. He’d die before he’d spend another goddamned second there. It couldn’t happen again, not to him. The burning in his chest intensified, and even as his vision was getting blurry, he could see his body glowing. At this sight of Soldier Boy’s chest beginning to glow, Vader lowered his hand slightly, confused, only to quickly lift it again as his opponent roared, “Get the fuck off me!”
A blinding burst of light erupted from Soldier Boy, and Vader quickly threw up a Force Barrier as the nuclear explosion slammed into him, sending him flying backwards. For a moment, the barrier held, then cracked under pressure, and Vader felt the overwhelming heat and intensity in full force, just for a moment, before it was gone, leaving the wreckage of the safehouse. From underneath the wreckage, Soldier Boy groaned, then forced himself up, taking a moment to catch his breath as he surveyed the damage. The various Wolves had been reduced either to ash or burnt corpses, and only the shattered walls of the building had been left standing. The armored asshole that attacked was gone, but that wasn’t his pressing concern as he scanned the remains. The case, incredibly, had somehow survived the blast, and he gave it an impressed whistle as he looked it over, peeking inside to make sure the sword had not been damaged.
“Damn, they really build this shit to last.”
Just as he prepared to leave, he heard Vader’s breathing, harsher and more electronic than before, as the Sith forced the rubble off of him, his suit sparking, torn and broken at various points. Soldier Boy scowled, set the case down, then marched to Vader, grabbing him by the cape and swinging him over his head and into the floor.
“Still not fucking dead yet?”
He landed a kick to Vader’s side, sending the Sith Lord skidding across the floor, then grabbed him by the shoulder and drove his shield into his face, again and again until the mask finally gave way, shattering and exposing some of his face. As he rose the shield, hoping to finally finish off his foe, Soldier Boy paid no mind to Vader’s saber, dropped during the blast, as it quietly aimed itself at his back, ignited, then flew into him. The blade dug into his side, forcing him to drop Vader as he let out a cry of pain. The lightsaber flew from his back and back into Vader’s hand, the Sith Lord clipping it back to his belt as he stood to his feet and forced Soldier Boy to his knees, reapplying the pressure to his neck. Choking again, the supersoldier fumbled for his pistol and drew it, but Vader merely crushed the barrel, then pulled the gun from his hand.
Soldier Boy tried to stand, but the Force held him down as he cursed and struggled. He locked eyes with Vader, whose exposed eye burned with rage, and choked out a furious, “Get…fucked,” as he began to charge up another blast, and Vader, in response, brought both his hands up, amplifying his strength and applying more and more pressure. The light from Soldier Boy’s chest begin to amplify, even as it flickered from the strain, and he gave a savage yell just as Vader brought his hands together, finally snapping his neck. He fell dead as Vader collapsed to his knees, struggling to breath. He could feel his life support struggling, the blast having likely fried it, and he needed to retreat to his own quarters so that he could repair them. Using the Force, he brought the case to his hand, then limped away, leaving the body of Soldier Boy amongst the ruins of their fight.
Expert’s Opinion[]
Soldier Boy was the obvious physical superior to Vader, but what ultimately decided the match was Vader’s superior power set, experience, and intelligence. Using the Force, he was able to put the fight into his favor and keep Soldier Boy from closing the distance, enabling him to ultimately prevail against his less experienced, more brutish opponent. Soldier Boy just didn’t have much in the way of ranged options, meaning that the Sith Lord was ultimately able to wear him down and win this battle of deadbeat dads.