S
Storm{X}Padmé
Gast
So, nachdem ich's zum ersten Mal seit Jahren geschafft hab (und zum ersten Mal in dem Genre 
) ne KURZGESCHICHTE zu schreiben, also 2,5 Word-Seiten lang (da is normalerweise bei mir noch net mal der erste krepiert ô_ó), stell ich sie doch mal hier auch rein...
Serie: Star Wars: The episodes between
Titel: SILENT AGONY
Teil: 1/2 *argh* um 100 Woerter zu lang fuer einen einzelnen Beitrag *grummel*
Autor: Storm{X}Padmé; mit anderen Worten, ich selbst *G*
Sprache: noch englisch, werd?s aber sicher auch mal übersetzen, wenn ich dazu komm
Disclaimer: Alle SW-Chars gehören George Lucas? Ich geb sie ja wieder zurueck, ich leih sie mir doch nur... Ich tu ihnen auch nicht weh? Jedenfalls nicht sehr *G*
Universum: basiert ausschliesslich auf den Filmen (OT + PT)
Zeitlinie: kurz nach Ep III
Paarung: keine aktuelle; geringfuegige Anspielungen auf Anakin/Padmé
Zensur: keine... wir sin ja net so empfindlich wie Amis, wo jede verbrannte Hautstelle gleich PG heisst ô_ó Oder doch? ô_ó Einmal Anakin gut durch mit Reis bitte...
Zusammenfassung: Vaders Gedankengaenge kurz nach dem Ende von Ep III...
Feedback: Ist nicht nur erwünscht sondern wird auch geknuddelt, abgeschmust, gestreichelt und George genannt
Danke an: An meine Beta Sol, meine fleissigen Leser Minzi, Ani und Visi und besonders an Minzi, von der ich immer meine EU-Informationen bekomme! *alle knulls* Bei dieser Story auch danke an Marvel_Moon, der mir die Entscheidung ueber den Titel abgenommen hat *G*
#################
1/2
Blackness.
No human being but the one who revealed the power of blackness to me can possibly understand the satisfaction and blessing, the dark side brings. And though some without a doubt will refuse to see the mentioned human as such, in the blindness of their ignorance calling it a monster or a devil instead, it was this particular human?s close touch with the dark side and all its powers which in the end saved what was able and willing to live left of me, when I was left to die by the man who was originally supposed to be like a father to me.
Not that there was really much of me there left to safe. The deadly wounded, cruelly burned body, Palpatine?s servants drew all the way out of the lava this day was as good as passed. In fact I have a pretty good idea it already had passed before Sidious joined his men, though there is nothing but a black hole of these minutes left in my memory. I still don?t know and will never know how ever I made it to drag at least my upper body, the life supporting part, out of a boiling, killing, merely alive substance which I couldn?t feel anymore since all of my skin had been gone even before the lava had as much as touched me. Still, I made it, with the one hand that was and is all that?s left of my extremities. I somehow saved what could not be severed and replaced of my body. All extendable parts had been gone by then anyway, save for that one hand that now seems stranger and more alien-like to me than all of my implants. Obi-Wan and the lava have taken care of the rest. Did a pretty good job, too. When Sidious came, he took the chance I had left in half-crawling out of the pit? Or he added a little bit to it. If Anakin hasn?t already died when killing his own wife, what has remained of him has taken its final good-bye in the lava. I?m pretty sure of that. Well, almost.
So how much power does Sidious really have? Is the reason for his rapidly aged looks not only lying in the battle with Yoda that has asked so much of him but in something much more? subtle? Something that he will not even reveal to me cause in a way he?s already regretting it? Sidious is a genius, no doubt about that. Man fooled the whole galaxy, after all. But he also is a Sith, and unlike the Jedi, Sith can and will be overwhelmed by their own feelings. There?s something deep inside telling me that this is just what happened on Mustafar, though I will never know for sure. 10 years of work on what both Windu and Sidious truly believed to be the chosen one... 10 years destroyed by a more or less accidental fall into a lava pit? In my heart I know that Palpatine just couldn?t accept that. Neither his pride nor his cold, calculating ambition could accept it. So he crossed a line that usually neither Jedi nor Sith will pass? And Force, he?s sure regretting it now. He?s wasted one of his most precious clone bodies nearly to death only to save a crippled, broken shadow of a man he once thought of as someone who would eventually become his most powerful ally ever. Yet he couldn?t let it be any more than I could have let go off the one rock that saved me from going head under in the lava, which would have mentioned immediate and final death. Bad luck for the universe, I guess.
So he?s accepted it, alright, and now continues working his way on me like he?s done it in the past few years. While I should be angry about understanding this only now, angry on him doing the same I hated about Obi-Wan so much, I now find I couldn?t care less. It?s all stopped mattering. Working with Sidious, building the Empire, hunting what?s left of the Jedi, motionlessly watching them die their meaningless deaths? None of it stirs any more emotion in me than the dull pain coming from my implants every second of my new life, a pain that will remain forever. But at least my duties are keeping me occupied. That?s what it?s mostly about now. Working. Forgetting. More... Hiding. I know that some will think, this careless, horrid killing is giving me some sick kind of satisfaction. The Jedi who died from either my hand or my sword did, anyway? And Obi-Wan, of course, did
does
think so. In the end
the end?
nothing could have changed his mind about me. Well, what else is news? Not that his point of view was
is
all that wrong, though.
And then there?s the troopers and officers, of course, who seem to shiver only at the mentioning of my name. But none of them will ever see through the mask. They will never know how wrong they are. Lucky them. I doubt their minds would settle if they could see the expression on my face whenever another human life passes on the Emperor?s or my own will. It?s not satisfaction by any means. It?s languidness. It no longer matters. Vader no longer matters. It?s just another way of getting through the day, of thinking without feeling, silence without memories, recalling without beholding. In a way, it?s funny... All those feelings that Obi-Wan year after year told me to get rid off now finally have disappeared... All except for one. Doubt he?d be proud on me because of that, though.
What remains is blackness. The hate. Anger no longer covers what?s behind my actions, lighting the Emperor?s eyes everytime we talk. Anger has been banished from my mind along with the other emotions. Now there?s only hate left. Hate?s comforting, soothing darkness... A comfort, once a human body, as delicate and gorgeous as eternity itself gave... Yet another cold wave of this deep hate is washing away this dreadful memory as easily as the hotness of the lava destroyed my skin before I even fell into it. Nothing but illusions, a silly, arrogant fool once got caught in. The ridiculous thought that there could actually be something as warm and good as love in the life of a Jedi, of someone who has vowed to be dead from his neck down? This illusion cost me much and cost her even more. Though she should have known better from the start. Oh, how blame is so much easier than guilt?
Yet? For thousands of years there was no Jedi in the universe who could love. But I did. I did love. And in spite of all the wrong, the two of us did, no hate will live as long as this love in me, hidden deep under all that life-saving respiration stuff where somewhere still must be a heart, I guess. None of my hate will live in this heart as long as my love for her will? Except for one. The hate on myself, that is.
Which right now is all that keeps me alive. Death would be much too easy, much too mild for me. My punishment will be my own life as long as I can breath any air through this damn artificial lung. And the hell that now is called my ?life? sure seems to be punishment enough. The good, strong force of the hate on myself? By day it?s keeping me from remembering anything that would only delay my mind from my duties... By night it?s keeping me alive in the dark cell that is my personal chamber, the only thing which really matters in my quarters. Everything else is mostly needless furniture that will not even get a second look. My accommodations sure aren?t much of a problem for the captains of the ships I use to travel on. At least not half as much as my orders concerning everything else are. And the consequences if my wishes aren?t fulfilled properly. Sometimes such a failure happens to end in a loss of a command, sometimes in a broken bone or two. Occasionally it means death. The hate likes to take over from time to time. Then the power over my dark side abilities subsides, changing a choking Force-grasp into a death grib, breaking the unfortunate victim?s neck without further effort. No big loss. Not for Sidious, either, unless the officer was of any importance I wasn?t aware of.
The very first time it happened, Palpatine's huskily laughed, amused comment was something like? ?Couldn?t leave your everlasting arrogance in the grave of the order, could you, Lord Vader? Hope it wasn?t anyone I liked.? It hadn?t been.
Death mostly is stupid. Only a little number of murders, like slaughtering the Jedi, actually serves a purpose. Taming the animal of hate inside of me for example, at least for the time being. Mostly till night falls. Not that this phrase would matter much when living on a space ship, but my half-mechanical body needs its regular regeneration, especially now, that all is new, risky, innovative, in other words: experimental. While full regeneration doesn?t take any longer than six hours, it?s just this six hours that I?m afraid of every day. Six hours without any work to keep me from thinking of what happened before the helmet. Days and weeks have passed, many nights of effortlessly trying to get through these hours. I ended up working on several unimportant stuff every night, because I just couldn?t stand all these images, my mind was starting to show me as soon as it was off duty. Until a few days ago a medical assistant matter-of-factly pointed out to me that I was about to lose another body if I kept on forgetting of my regeneration hours. Since I have no interest in another Bacta-Tank bath ? one time is enough for a lifetime ? I had to take the advise.
So I started to work in a different way at night? Inside the dark chamber. The black veil covering my mind whenever I try to remember the fall, Obi-Wan has caused on Mustafar, the seconds when my human body was destroyed? This veil is still there. I wouldn?t be too surprised to find out Sidious is behind this lack of memory. Though I should probably be thankful about not being able to see these moments anymore, I wish I could. I know that something happened? Something about the dark side, Sidious hasn?t told me yet about. I?ve heard them talk, more with my mind than my hearing, while I was recovering in the sick bay. I spent most of these days after the fall being unconscious, but I remember a few sentences clearly. One of them was?
??tell you there is no way, anyone can survive that. You know why? Because of the heat. It?s not the lava. It?s the heat. No Bacta-Tank in this universe could have done that.?
####
1/2 geht gleich weiter *argh*
) ne KURZGESCHICHTE zu schreiben, also 2,5 Word-Seiten lang (da is normalerweise bei mir noch net mal der erste krepiert ô_ó), stell ich sie doch mal hier auch rein...Serie: Star Wars: The episodes between
Titel: SILENT AGONY
Teil: 1/2 *argh* um 100 Woerter zu lang fuer einen einzelnen Beitrag *grummel*
Autor: Storm{X}Padmé; mit anderen Worten, ich selbst *G*
Sprache: noch englisch, werd?s aber sicher auch mal übersetzen, wenn ich dazu komm
Disclaimer: Alle SW-Chars gehören George Lucas? Ich geb sie ja wieder zurueck, ich leih sie mir doch nur... Ich tu ihnen auch nicht weh? Jedenfalls nicht sehr *G*
Universum: basiert ausschliesslich auf den Filmen (OT + PT)
Zeitlinie: kurz nach Ep III
Paarung: keine aktuelle; geringfuegige Anspielungen auf Anakin/Padmé
Zensur: keine... wir sin ja net so empfindlich wie Amis, wo jede verbrannte Hautstelle gleich PG heisst ô_ó Oder doch? ô_ó Einmal Anakin gut durch mit Reis bitte...
Zusammenfassung: Vaders Gedankengaenge kurz nach dem Ende von Ep III...
Feedback: Ist nicht nur erwünscht sondern wird auch geknuddelt, abgeschmust, gestreichelt und George genannt
Danke an: An meine Beta Sol, meine fleissigen Leser Minzi, Ani und Visi und besonders an Minzi, von der ich immer meine EU-Informationen bekomme! *alle knulls* Bei dieser Story auch danke an Marvel_Moon, der mir die Entscheidung ueber den Titel abgenommen hat *G*
#################
1/2
Blackness.
No human being but the one who revealed the power of blackness to me can possibly understand the satisfaction and blessing, the dark side brings. And though some without a doubt will refuse to see the mentioned human as such, in the blindness of their ignorance calling it a monster or a devil instead, it was this particular human?s close touch with the dark side and all its powers which in the end saved what was able and willing to live left of me, when I was left to die by the man who was originally supposed to be like a father to me.
Not that there was really much of me there left to safe. The deadly wounded, cruelly burned body, Palpatine?s servants drew all the way out of the lava this day was as good as passed. In fact I have a pretty good idea it already had passed before Sidious joined his men, though there is nothing but a black hole of these minutes left in my memory. I still don?t know and will never know how ever I made it to drag at least my upper body, the life supporting part, out of a boiling, killing, merely alive substance which I couldn?t feel anymore since all of my skin had been gone even before the lava had as much as touched me. Still, I made it, with the one hand that was and is all that?s left of my extremities. I somehow saved what could not be severed and replaced of my body. All extendable parts had been gone by then anyway, save for that one hand that now seems stranger and more alien-like to me than all of my implants. Obi-Wan and the lava have taken care of the rest. Did a pretty good job, too. When Sidious came, he took the chance I had left in half-crawling out of the pit? Or he added a little bit to it. If Anakin hasn?t already died when killing his own wife, what has remained of him has taken its final good-bye in the lava. I?m pretty sure of that. Well, almost.
So how much power does Sidious really have? Is the reason for his rapidly aged looks not only lying in the battle with Yoda that has asked so much of him but in something much more? subtle? Something that he will not even reveal to me cause in a way he?s already regretting it? Sidious is a genius, no doubt about that. Man fooled the whole galaxy, after all. But he also is a Sith, and unlike the Jedi, Sith can and will be overwhelmed by their own feelings. There?s something deep inside telling me that this is just what happened on Mustafar, though I will never know for sure. 10 years of work on what both Windu and Sidious truly believed to be the chosen one... 10 years destroyed by a more or less accidental fall into a lava pit? In my heart I know that Palpatine just couldn?t accept that. Neither his pride nor his cold, calculating ambition could accept it. So he crossed a line that usually neither Jedi nor Sith will pass? And Force, he?s sure regretting it now. He?s wasted one of his most precious clone bodies nearly to death only to save a crippled, broken shadow of a man he once thought of as someone who would eventually become his most powerful ally ever. Yet he couldn?t let it be any more than I could have let go off the one rock that saved me from going head under in the lava, which would have mentioned immediate and final death. Bad luck for the universe, I guess.
So he?s accepted it, alright, and now continues working his way on me like he?s done it in the past few years. While I should be angry about understanding this only now, angry on him doing the same I hated about Obi-Wan so much, I now find I couldn?t care less. It?s all stopped mattering. Working with Sidious, building the Empire, hunting what?s left of the Jedi, motionlessly watching them die their meaningless deaths? None of it stirs any more emotion in me than the dull pain coming from my implants every second of my new life, a pain that will remain forever. But at least my duties are keeping me occupied. That?s what it?s mostly about now. Working. Forgetting. More... Hiding. I know that some will think, this careless, horrid killing is giving me some sick kind of satisfaction. The Jedi who died from either my hand or my sword did, anyway? And Obi-Wan, of course, did
does
think so. In the end
the end?
nothing could have changed his mind about me. Well, what else is news? Not that his point of view was
is
all that wrong, though.
And then there?s the troopers and officers, of course, who seem to shiver only at the mentioning of my name. But none of them will ever see through the mask. They will never know how wrong they are. Lucky them. I doubt their minds would settle if they could see the expression on my face whenever another human life passes on the Emperor?s or my own will. It?s not satisfaction by any means. It?s languidness. It no longer matters. Vader no longer matters. It?s just another way of getting through the day, of thinking without feeling, silence without memories, recalling without beholding. In a way, it?s funny... All those feelings that Obi-Wan year after year told me to get rid off now finally have disappeared... All except for one. Doubt he?d be proud on me because of that, though.
What remains is blackness. The hate. Anger no longer covers what?s behind my actions, lighting the Emperor?s eyes everytime we talk. Anger has been banished from my mind along with the other emotions. Now there?s only hate left. Hate?s comforting, soothing darkness... A comfort, once a human body, as delicate and gorgeous as eternity itself gave... Yet another cold wave of this deep hate is washing away this dreadful memory as easily as the hotness of the lava destroyed my skin before I even fell into it. Nothing but illusions, a silly, arrogant fool once got caught in. The ridiculous thought that there could actually be something as warm and good as love in the life of a Jedi, of someone who has vowed to be dead from his neck down? This illusion cost me much and cost her even more. Though she should have known better from the start. Oh, how blame is so much easier than guilt?
Yet? For thousands of years there was no Jedi in the universe who could love. But I did. I did love. And in spite of all the wrong, the two of us did, no hate will live as long as this love in me, hidden deep under all that life-saving respiration stuff where somewhere still must be a heart, I guess. None of my hate will live in this heart as long as my love for her will? Except for one. The hate on myself, that is.
Which right now is all that keeps me alive. Death would be much too easy, much too mild for me. My punishment will be my own life as long as I can breath any air through this damn artificial lung. And the hell that now is called my ?life? sure seems to be punishment enough. The good, strong force of the hate on myself? By day it?s keeping me from remembering anything that would only delay my mind from my duties... By night it?s keeping me alive in the dark cell that is my personal chamber, the only thing which really matters in my quarters. Everything else is mostly needless furniture that will not even get a second look. My accommodations sure aren?t much of a problem for the captains of the ships I use to travel on. At least not half as much as my orders concerning everything else are. And the consequences if my wishes aren?t fulfilled properly. Sometimes such a failure happens to end in a loss of a command, sometimes in a broken bone or two. Occasionally it means death. The hate likes to take over from time to time. Then the power over my dark side abilities subsides, changing a choking Force-grasp into a death grib, breaking the unfortunate victim?s neck without further effort. No big loss. Not for Sidious, either, unless the officer was of any importance I wasn?t aware of.
The very first time it happened, Palpatine's huskily laughed, amused comment was something like? ?Couldn?t leave your everlasting arrogance in the grave of the order, could you, Lord Vader? Hope it wasn?t anyone I liked.? It hadn?t been.
Death mostly is stupid. Only a little number of murders, like slaughtering the Jedi, actually serves a purpose. Taming the animal of hate inside of me for example, at least for the time being. Mostly till night falls. Not that this phrase would matter much when living on a space ship, but my half-mechanical body needs its regular regeneration, especially now, that all is new, risky, innovative, in other words: experimental. While full regeneration doesn?t take any longer than six hours, it?s just this six hours that I?m afraid of every day. Six hours without any work to keep me from thinking of what happened before the helmet. Days and weeks have passed, many nights of effortlessly trying to get through these hours. I ended up working on several unimportant stuff every night, because I just couldn?t stand all these images, my mind was starting to show me as soon as it was off duty. Until a few days ago a medical assistant matter-of-factly pointed out to me that I was about to lose another body if I kept on forgetting of my regeneration hours. Since I have no interest in another Bacta-Tank bath ? one time is enough for a lifetime ? I had to take the advise.
So I started to work in a different way at night? Inside the dark chamber. The black veil covering my mind whenever I try to remember the fall, Obi-Wan has caused on Mustafar, the seconds when my human body was destroyed? This veil is still there. I wouldn?t be too surprised to find out Sidious is behind this lack of memory. Though I should probably be thankful about not being able to see these moments anymore, I wish I could. I know that something happened? Something about the dark side, Sidious hasn?t told me yet about. I?ve heard them talk, more with my mind than my hearing, while I was recovering in the sick bay. I spent most of these days after the fall being unconscious, but I remember a few sentences clearly. One of them was?
??tell you there is no way, anyone can survive that. You know why? Because of the heat. It?s not the lava. It?s the heat. No Bacta-Tank in this universe could have done that.?
####
1/2 geht gleich weiter *argh*
Zuletzt bearbeitet von einem Moderator:
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