A/N. A bit of bad news, fans. I'm cancelling my sub to this game, so I will no longer be posting on this website. My story can be found here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8607191/1/STAR-WARS-THE-PHANTOM-MENACE-REWRITE

CONCORD DAWN Obi-wan stopped running, sweat and smut mixing on his face. His blue lightsaber hummed violently in his hands, the hilt slippery with sweat. Humid air heated from the fires from orbital bombardments and ones started by clones cooked him, each breath he inhaled was burning hot, scorching his throat and the roof of his mouth. He paused to catch his breath, and stole a glance behind him. The homestead they had just been at was now burning to the ground, clone troopers armed with weapons that spat fire bathed the building in it. Obi-wan watched with wide eyes as the flames swathed back and forth, eventually catching to the ground and enveloping the body of the young man Obi-wan had just killed... No. He had a duty. No time for that. “Obi-wan Kenobi!” A stern voice called ahead of him. Obi-wan picked his head up, his padwan braid whipping across his cheek. He looked at the looming form of an Imperial Commander, clad in the gray armor and black cap that colored those of his order. A gun steamed in his hands, and two clone troopers, clad in white armor, flanked him. Their helmeted heads were constantly turning, constantly aware. “Yes, Commander-General?” Obi-wan asked, bowing slightly. His voice rasped after each word. “The assault goes well. Sectors six, thirteen, and forty have all been subjugated. From the information we have gathered the plans for the secret weapon are on a planet deeper in the outer rim.” Obi-wan looked at the Commander incredulously. “Wait- if they aren't here...then why continue the attack? We're just wasting resources.” The Commander smiled patiently. “What we are doing, Kenobi, is showing our power. Some of these people, these savages in the rim worlds, still believe we are weak. They don't respect us. Now..” The Commander turned slightly, and spread his arm wide, nearly hitting a clone trooper, who humbly stepped out of the way of his reach- “Their crops burn. Their homes destroyed. Their spirit? Broken. They will remember this for a long time.” Obi-wan fell silent. The boy he killed... it was all for nothing. It was wanton murder. “Does Yoda know of this? Sifo Dyas? Does he? Do they agree to this?” Obi-wan asked, his voice bordering on accusatory tones. “Yes. They all agree with me. Yoda was...hard to convince. But Sifo Dyas? He understood. And he made Yoda understand. They know what's at stake.” The Commander answered. Obi-wan looked down at his weapon, at his smeared hands. He felt sick. “For the Empire.” Obi-wan declared quietly. The Commander nodded. “For the Empire.”

OBI-WAN The Jedi Knight spurred his borrowed beast of burden forwards, the pale creature snorting as its snout lazily dangled from it's elongated face. Obi-wan scanned the horizon- the endless sea of Tatooine was spread before him, all around, all encompassing. Just looking at the dusty dunes made Obi-wan thirsty. He licked his lips, and pulled a small metal container from his pouch, which was found bouncing behind him. He swore as he raised the container to his mouth, spilling precious water on himself, and then drank liberally. Putting the container back in his pack, he kicked his mount ahead. As he rode, he wondered where Anakin was. Obi-wan hated himself for lying to the boy, and for keeping information from him, but what choice did he have? If Anakin turned against him...turned against the Jedi- It would be like Qui-gon foresaw. Then what? The evil he went to face, the same evil that Yoda and Sifo and countless other Jedi went to destroy...the possible force that convinced Stark to betray the Empire- It would all be for nothing. Obi-wan prayed then, prayed that Anakin controlled himself, prayed that he remembered his training. Obi-wan stopped moving, pulling the reigns backwards. The beast grumbled slightly, but slowed to a complete stop. Kenobi raised a hand over his forehead, blocking out the rising sun. Wasteland. Obi-wan sighed deeply and continued on. What was he even going to do with Shimi? He had to free her. But to let her see Anakin again? He still remembered what she had warned Qui-gon when they first took him. The threat she gave. That she would tell Anakin everything, and let him decide if he still wants to serve the Jedi and the Empire. It was then Obi-wan's mind wandered as he trudged on, sweat trailing down his face as the heat of Tatooine escalated. His mind found him not on Tatooine, but back on Concord Dawn, all of those years ago.... When he had first killed.

I finished half of the new chapter but something came up in my personal life and I will be unable to finish it today. Expect it tomorrow afternoon. Sorry guys x.x

Will be posting today.

QUINLAN VOS JEDI MASTER Quinlan Vos walked into the main square of the imperial district, massive statues of various figures of the Old Republic, from the age before it was turned into an Empire. Around them, thousands of nobles, mostly human, swarmed by them, heading towards the apparent podium, where, apparently, Palpatine was holding his speech. But Quinlan was headed in the opposite direction. He was heading away from the crowds. Away from Palpatine. Quinlan looked around with green eyes, scanning the area that was behind the moving crowd. The Imperial District's buildings towered over him, and Quinlan pulled his hood over his head, finding an alleyway between two smaller buildings. He entered it, his vision quickly darkened by the shade. He turned around slightly, finding that no one had followed him- No, most of the people here were finding their way towards Palpatine. Quinlan knelt over, and reached into the excesses of his robe, and pulled out a small rectangular object, and turned it over, pressing the main green button on the center. The device beeped quietly at regular intervals, until the face of a silver woman appeared. “Establishing secure connection...” The woman announced in a robotic voice. Quinlan waited, until the image of the woman fizzled away, and the face of Daalu appeared. “What have you found?” Daalu asked. Quinlan grinned at Coruscant's security officer. “I have found out much.”

Will be posting tomorrow. Expect a new character

PADME Padme sat in her room, located inside one of the high skyscrapers that towered in the Imperial District. She lay still in her bed, which was wide, too big for her slim figure. It was draped by black curtains, which were parted by the foot of the bed, revealing a large mirror that found itself straight ahead of the bed. She looked at herself in the mirror with bored interest, moving her face from side to side, analyzing her profile. She was bored. Padme sighed, sitting up in her bed, and swung her legs over the side. She stood up, straight, stretching, and then walked to her wardrobe, pulling her ebony nightgown off of her body, folding it, and putting it away, grabbing another set of clothing from the same shelf within her closet. She dressed herself with trained speed, and then breathed in deeply as she closed her eyes, and stepped through the doors that closed her room from the outside world. Padme opened her eyes, and was greeted by a long hallway that stretched in both directions for as long as she could see, curving around like constricting snake. She went to the left, smiling graciously at the various human nobles as they walked by and greeted her. Padme Amidala. That is what they called her. She was a noble. A citizen of the Empire. As she walked, in her fine clothing with a stomach full of rich delicacies, she felt a twinge of guilt. Every smiling human face she saw reminded her of the reproachful Alien expressions she was greeted with in the lower levels. How was she different from them? What had she done differently to live so much better? She put a kick into her step as she reached one of the many elevators that lined the hall. Padme walked into the elevator, the doors opening automatically as she approached. Another man stepped in beside her, dark skinned, handsome, with fine clothes and a yellow tattoo crossing his nose and long dreadlocked hair. “Good day to you,” He greeted with a warm smile. Padme smiled back, humbly bowing her head. “And you too, good sir.” The man nodded, and then picked a destination, Padme releasing an anxious breath as she realized he was heading to the same place. The man caught her sigh of relief. “I think everyone is headed to where we are.” He said with another grin. Padme smiled again, nodding, but inside she felt like throwing up. Everyone was going to the Imperial District grounds, where Palpatine was planning to announce his official campaign against Aguari's father. She had cared before, but now... When she thought about the aliens in the lower sectors...The alien that Deak killed...It all seemed like worthless politics. A game for the rich and wealthy. A class, she realized, that she belonged to. The elevator sped down the building, and Padme turned around, Watching Coruscant's buildings fall closer and closer to her through the Elevator's glass viewports. Speeders flew by in the distance, merchant frigates loomed in the lower atmosphere, and yachts, belonging to the Imperial elite, flew closer to the Imperial district, with Corsucant Security skiffs buzzing around them, driven by men clad in white armor. The dark-skinned man saw her eyes. “Governors from other systems. This is a big announcement, if you couldn't tell already. The Emperor's right to rule has never been challenged by his Chancellor before.” “Do you think Fini-I mean, the Emperor has a chance to win?” Padme inquired, cursing herself for using the Emperor's name. Aguari had told her long ago not to act to familiar with the Emperor, despite the fact she saw him on a semi-regular basis. The man raised his eyebrows. “I'm not sure. Many will support him simply because he is the Emperor. But many more despise him for his policies.” Padme nodded, her face grim. In other words, it was very possible that Finis could be legally overthrown, and replaced. The elevator reached the ground level of the district, and the glass door hissed open, blasting Padme with a gust of fresh mid-morning air. The glare from the rising sun gave the looming skyscrapers an orange tint, and made the various space and low-atmosphere craft a heavenly glow. “After you,” The man smiled, and parted his arms to allow Padme out of the Elevator. As he did, Padme noticed a glint on the man's until then hidden belt. A lightsaber. “Thank you, sir.” She said, rushing out of the elevator, suddenly feeling uneasy. She walked a few paces, and then turned around, looking for the man. He was gone.

WILL be posting today

OBI-WAN The twin suns of Tatooine slowly set behind the Jedi Knight as he and Jarjar stood over a crumpled Toydarian. On the corner of Mos Espa's dusty streets, the alien had red, watery eyes and ash covering his arms and face. Obi-wan recognized the alien from the last time he was here, though it seems the alien had forgotten the Jedi. Obi-wan had found the alien poking through the burned shop as the fires dwindled, scaring off looters with huttese slurs and waving fists. Now, the fire in the alien was gone, replaced by great sadness. Both men towered over the Toydarian, blocking him from the lessening light of Tatooine's suns. “Who did this to your shop?” Jarjar asked, his eyes focused on Watto, his hand looming over his blaster, which hung lazily from his sagging belt. “B-black...Sun. They stole my slave-” Obi-wan's eyes narrowed. “Shimi Skywalker.” Watto nodded slowly, rolling his head on his neck. “Yes...I...I remember you, now, Jedi. You came here before- Took the boy..” Watto's wings slowly beat against his flabby back. Obi-wan had to hide his smirk as he watched the alien, with a large pot-belly, impossibly rise and hover into the air, his tiny wings flapping faster than the eyes could see. “Where is Anakin?” He asked. Obi-wan looked away from Watto for a moment, his mouth turning downwards. “He has eluded us. He saw the shop. He must think his mother is dead.” Watto locked eyes with Obi-wan. “No. She isn't dead. Not yet. But she may be soon if you do not hurry.” Jarjar coughed loudly, stepping forward towards Watto. “You owed me some parts,” Jarjar smirked slightly, “But I don't think you'll be able to pay me back in your current state.” Watto turned to Jarjar. His voice hushed. “The BlackSun stole what parts were valuable before they burned the shop. Anything there is now inside their compound. They're massing...preparing for something, Jarjar.” Obi-wan raised his eyebrows. “Where is this compound?” “They'll kill me. They'll know I told you.” Jarjar stifled a laugh. “Look at you, Watto. You're already dead. You might as well help us. Is Anakin's mother at this compound?” Watto shrugged. “They said they were taking her to Cliegg Lars. His homestead is on the edge of the Jundland Wastes. Dangerous. It is filled with Sand People. And the Lars homestead is powerfully enforced by mercenaries.” Obi-wan nodded, and pulled his hood over his face. “I will go to the Lars Homestead. Jarjar, you find out where the BlackSun compound is and get the hyperdrive.” “What about Anakin?” Obi-wan paused, and then looked at Jarjar with a grin. “He'll find us.” “Good luck, Jedi.” Jarjar saluted Obi-wan as he walked off. Obi-wan turned, and nodded. “May the force be with you, Jarjar.” The Mandalorian turned his attention back to a wide-eyed Watto. “Now...Tell me, Watto. Where's this BlackSun compound that's got you all in a tizzy?”

Will be posting today

ANAKIN Anakin stood in his old home. It was strange how tall he had gotten- The ceiling was still a few feet above his head, but the last time he was here, it seemed as if it was dozens of feet above him. The home was barren- save for a few ancient supplies that his mother had left behind all of those years ago. When he left, she did too. The last time he had seen her, she told him she would live with Watto in his shop. He closed his fist hard, and frowned. Now, they are both dead. Hate, familiar hate simmered within him, a dark feeling, like a roaring storm that threatening to devour everything. Anakin delved into the eye of the darkness, controlling it, feeding it, allowing himself to be a slave to its touch. It was the only thing that soothed him. The walls of the hovel began to crack violently, spider-webbing across the curved walls. Scattered hubris on the floor began to rise, and spun around Anakin as he stood, his head down, eyes closed. Focused on the darkness. Anakin. You're going to destroy the entire house. Anakin looked up, surprised...hearing a voice, not with his ears, but within himself. He opened his eyes, and saw a hooded figure in dark robes standing before him. The voice sounded familiar. Friendly. “Who are you?” Anakin asked. The hooded figure responded by lifting it's right arm- it was only then that Anakin noticed the man's left sleeve hung empty- and pulled the hood away from his face. Anakin stared at the face for a long time- taking in it's features, the eyes, the hair, the chin...It was then Anakin realized he was looking at himself. Albeit much older. Much more experienced. “You're....me?” Anakin said, focused on himself. The other Anakin nodded, and smiled warmly. “I'm what you will become. What you could become.” The second Skywalker replied. Anakin walked closer to the man, standing before him, looking up at him, and then reached for him-Anakin's hand fell right through the man. Anakin stepped back, shocked. “You have a special gift, Anakin. A gift that you will give to your sons and daughters. Force-walking.” The older said. “Force...walking?” “Yes. It is a skill that very few Jedi possess. It uses the physical aspect of the force, the dark side, mixed with the spiritual aspect- the light side. It allows the user to follow ebbs of the force in time, to see the various outcomes and possibilities that one's current path will lead to.” The older Anakin walked to the curved wall, placing his hand on the cracks that stretched across them. “What future is this?” Anakin followed himself with curious eyes. “You remain here, on Tatooine. You liberate the slaves. You find the balance.” “Balance between what?” “That is for you to discover. Of course, if you remain here, millions will die. That is the choice you must make. I am but a shadow of your decision, Anakin.” Before Anakin could ask more, the man was gone. His vision shifted, and the reality of his situation hit him like a rock. Watto. Mother. He inhaled deeply, and stood straighter, stronger, setting his shoulders so they became broad and heavy. He couldn't stay here. He wouldn't be responsible for the death of millions. He was a Jedi. Not a child. The fact that Obi-wan withheld information from him hurt, yes, but he needed to control his emotions. He was a Jedi of the Empire. With that thought, Anakin left the hovel, leaving his childhood behind. You find the balance. Anakin replayed the last words he received from himself. You find the balance.

A/N Holy cow. Never did I think that this would get two thousand views. Thanks for the support, everyone, And I hope you guys enjoy the new chapter today

A/N: WILL be able to post today. On break at work, look for a new chapter this afternoon

A:/N Hope you guys liked that chapter. Some major foreshadowing Aahaha. Anyway, as you know, HUGE storm coming. And it may or may not be headed my way. So just a heads up-I'm planning on posting tomorrow-but depending on how bad the storm is i might not be able to...or at all next week. So cheers!

PALPATINE Palpatine sat in his office. It was a simple room, small and devoid of overly elegant effects. It had two chairs, each one facing his desk, which in itself was also simple- a metal construction wherein he could keep all of his political files. On top of his desk where various datapads, each one with information about the comings and goings of the Empire. Two datapads, however, caught his attention. One was a list of the systems that declared their intention to cede from the Empire. The second: the answer from the High Imperial Council. Palpatine inhaled slightly, slowly reading the words that glowed from the small rectangular device. His steel eyes moved back and forth as they painstakingly read line after line after line... ….HENCEFORTH, DANTIS PALPATINE, FORMER SENATOR OF NABOO AND CURRENT CHANCELLOR, THE HIGH IMPERIAL COUNCIL HAS REVIEWED YOUR FILE, 440-30-2, AND YOUR REQUEST TO CHALLENGE SEATED EMPEROR FINIS VALORUM FOR CONTROL OF IMPERIAL SPACE, HER ARMIES, AND ALL OF HER HOLDINGS, HAS BEEN APPROVED TO A VOTE OF 7-4. Mass Amedda looked at Palpatine, his fleshly horns twitching slightly. “Well? What do they say?” He asked. Palpatine smiled at his old friend and closest ally. “I have been approved. Soon, all of Imperial space will know that I challenge Finis' right to rule.” He put the datapad down, a weight of relief passing over him. But he stopped himself from feeling too relieved- The hardest part was yet to come. “Now we must get the trust of the public. Use their votes to sway the Core-World Councils....” Mass Amedda listed. He jumped, nearly, and adding something to his list that he had forgotten to say. “We must also get the trust of the Jedi Council.” “Which will be difficult.” Palpatine said with a grimace. Mass Amedda frowned, “You were once a Jedi, were you not?” He leaned in closer to Palpatine's desk. “It should be easy to gain their support.” What he said was true, in a sense, but he didn't know what Palpatine did- Count Dooku had returned to the Jedi Council. He was also Finis' former master. With Mace and Ploo gone, it was very possible that they would elect the Count as Grand Master, and he, in turn, in that position of power, could easily side the Jedi with Finis. “It is never an easy task to convince a Jedi, no matter an entire temple of them. It can be done- But it will be difficult. Whatever happens, it needs to happen soon. The outer-worlds are growing more and more distant to us.” Palpatine said with a heavy sigh, picking up again the datapad that contained the worlds who spoke of leaving the Empire. “How many this time?” Mass Amedda knitted his brows together, and snarled silently. “One hundred fifty two. And it doesn't look as if they are planning to stop. Lott Dodd is championing the Trade Federation, making them look like martyrs against a tyrannical Empire.” “Do you think it will come to...” Amedda paused, “Rebellion?” “Yes. When? I do not know. But it will happen soon. Blame the taxes. Blame the lack of a military. If all of the planets threatening to cede did, and in turn, formed an alliance...” Palpatine smirked, “A Rebel Alliance, if you will, we would be powerless to stop them.” “But we still have remnants of our old military-” “Yes. But no real army. Just old ships and aging troops who patrol the core-worlds to make the bureaucrats and merchants feel safe. But a massive, disorganized possibly, but still dangerous rebel force would rip through us like a knife through soft butter.” Palpatine threw his datapad on his desk, a disgusted expression painted on his face. “Stars. It's that bad, isn't it? Have you heard any news of the Jedi delegation?” “No. I believe they have been silenced. By my estimates, we have maybe about three years before they strike. It will take at least a year to fight for the throne. It takes four years for a semblance of a military to be formed.” Palpatine leaned back in his chair, and turned his head to his viewport. “These people. Going about their daily lives. They have no idea what could happen to them in such a short period of time.” “Even if you win against Finis, you wouldn't have enough time to build an army. We must plan for this.” Mass Amedda stood up abruptly. “I will gather my agents-” He began, but Palpatine lifted his pale hand slowly. “Amedda,” He began with a sly smile. “That will not be necessary.” Amedda froze, question written on his face. “I have already commissioned a Grand Imperial Army to be created.” “But that is-” “Illegal. Yes, I know. But the ends justify the means. A stronger Empire. A safe galaxy. A galaxy ruled by Emperor Palpatine.”

Will be posting today. Or will attempt to post today...

I could care less about the canonicity of this fan fiction like others. This was amazing. Really good. Rarely am I able to read other fan-fiction on here. This was brilliant

ANAKIN The dust of Tatooine was blowing around Anakin's knees, some wayward particles threatening to fly into his eyes. His long braid, the sign of the apprentice, flew freely behind his back as warm tears, further heated by the blazing two suns, streamed down his face. Jarjar and Obi-wan stood by him, both silent. Anakin could feel emotion from them. From Jarjar, he felt compassion, and understanding of loss. From Obi-wan, he felt almost nothing, his emotions nearly expertly hidden. But there was a hint of something there, something like relief. Anakin's eyes were fixed on the burning building that was once his workplace. The building his mother would have been in at this time. Sentients walked by the building slowly, some stopping to watch the black flames rise, and then continuing on their way. The smell of burnt cloth, wood, and machine filled the dusty town. The building itself still stood, the hard rock frame holding against the flames. But the inside was an inferno. Flames and smoke sputtered from the windows and from the door, licking at the air when the breeze picked up, a breeze that sent a screen of sand across Anakin's view. But when it passed, the reality of Anakin's loss hit him. “Anakin.” Obi-wan began, moving closer to his apprentice. Anakin's mouth turned at the sound of his master's voice. “You!” Anakin turned, his eyes frenzied, angry. Obi-wan stepped back, startled by Anakin's rage. The young boy's chest heaved, his breathing heavy and labored, his nostrils flared. “I felt it from you! Relief!” Anakin accused, his one arm pointing. “You don't understand, Anakin-” Obi-wan tried to begin, but Anakin shook his head manically, and then focused his eyes on Obi-wan. His eyes were growing darker, the pupils brightening to a yellow shade. “Why? Why did I feel that from you? What was I not supposed to learn from meeting my mother again?” Anakin sobbed, throwing himself on the dusty ground, his hands gripping at the hard sand of Tatooine. Jarjar shot at look to Obi-wan. The Jedi glanced at Jarjar, and then attempted to approach his apprentice. “Anakin, you need to relax. The Code..” “Forget the Code.” Anakin said with a disturbing touch of finality. He felt engrossed in darkness- Is this what the dark side felt like? It was welcoming. Calming. It enveloped him, nursed him, taught him. He saw himself at his old home, before Watto, before the slavery, on the outskirts of Mos Espa, when it was only him and his Mother, No Jedi...no Empire...No Code... He shut his eyes tight, and then felt a whoosh of air, felt as if he had moved faster than sound allowed, as if his entire body had been transported- Anakin opened his eyes, and found himself looking at the abandoned hovel that he once lived in. Shock replaced anger, and then fear followed. “How...” He asked, rising to his feet. As he did, he felt a little uneasy, but took tentative steps towards his old home. He approached the door, smiling slightly- he was so small when he last saw it- Now he had to crouch in order to fit within the stone frame. He placed his hands on the weathered panel, waited, and heard the labored hiss as unused servos were suddenly brought back into action. The panel vanished, crawling upwards, revealing Anakin's home on the inside. With weary eyes, he stepped inside.

A/N: Will be posting today.

SIDIOUS Sidious stood with Xanatos, in the main bed chamber of Ajunta Pall. The coffin visibly overtook the room, covered with swirling designs and ancient Sith runes. The coffin itself was much bigger than the human body, rising from the dusty floor all the way to the Tomb's ceiling. Sidious mused that it must have been at least thirty feet high. A relief of Ajunta was found on the facce of the Coffin, gaunt and haunting, with hollow eyes and a closed, pursed mouth. “Amazing, isn't it?” Sidious finally spoke, his head still raised, looking at Pall's marble eyes. Xanatos nodded in agreement. “Jedi are not given such burials.” “No,” Sidious chuckled, “They are not,” Sidious walked closer to the coffin, placing his hand on the flat marble surface. “The way of the Sith is about knowledge. Power. Survival. Among the Sith, true Sith, survival is celebrated. Pall died eons ago, but his survival, his order, lives on.” “Poetic.” Xanatos said with a grin. Sidious waved his hand behind him. “A jedi wouldn't understand.” “The dark side led me here. To this tomb. I cannot ignore this kind of power.” Xanatos moved closer to Sidious, the dark lord could hear the footsteps Xanatos made on the stone flooring. “So what do you intend to do, Jedi?” Sidious asked. Xanatos was silent. It was then Sidious heard the Jedi's lightsaber activate. “I have an obligation to the order. I'm taking you under arrest.” Xanatos charged Sidious, and struck. *** XANATOS His lightsaber cut only through empty robes. Bewildered, he stood, alone in the tomb, the only sound was the silent whisper of cloth falling on the tomb's stone floor. Xanatos bent down, and ran his hands through the dark robes, until he felt something. He grabbed at it, and shook it free from the black cloth. It was a small object, shaped like a pyramid, with red light illuiminating from it. He heard dark whispers, the same voice that had spoken to him on Dathomir, but quieter. More controlled. Less frenzied. When you have learned all you can, go to Alderaan. Xanatos brought the pyramid closer to his chest, and made his way out of the tomb. *** SIDIOUS Sidious collapsed on the ground, convulsing and covered in sweat. He had overdrawn himself. He curled into a ball, shaking, naked, on the floor of his apartment. From the muted sound of traffic that came from the viewports, Sidious realized he was on Coruscant. He turned over and retched blood- A thick, gooey liquid that came spurting from his mouth. He had to be more careful. The duel with Xanatos and then the transportation- He had been foolish. But, he smiled despite the blood that fell from his mouth. He already had an apprentice, but there could never be too many prospects. To combat the numbers of the Jedi, he would force them to fight something twisted, something born from their own faith, trained in their ways, but under the influence of the dark side. He would send them Dark Jedi Knights.

A/N: Will be posting tonight. PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF CHEWBACCA COMMENT! I HAVE NO IDEA IF PEOPLE ARE READING/ENJOYING THIS. AHAHA. But yeah new chapter tonight.

WATTO The Toydarian flapped his wings faster than was necessary, releasing some of his anxiety through the movement. He watched with nervous eyes as a BlackSun representative walked through his shop. The BlackSun member was human, with icy blue eyes and blonde hair that touched the sides of his cheeks. He wore a simple leather jacket, black, with ebony pants that had white lines vertically traveling down them. A blaster pistol was found very obviously, jutting from his belt. An illegal, shortened vibroblade was strapped to the sleeve of his jacket. The silence was terrible. Watto hated feeling terrible. And he hated this man in his shop, scaring away his mid-afternoon business. But the man simply walked around, picking up droid parts, trailing his finger along untouched machinery, and investigating the dust found on his finger. “Watto,” The man said suddenly, his voice was quiet, but strong. Watto flew higher like an aroused bug, his eyes focused on the man. “Y-yes?” Watto bowed his head a little lower in respect to the human. The human smiled weakly. “You've been behind on your payments.” He said nonchalantly. Watto knew this was coming. “Well, with the Empire's taxes I-” The human raised his hand, closing his eyes, then opening them. His pupils seemed smaller, more intense than before. “You were able to pay tribute before. With the taxes. Then, you started giving us excuses. For the past five years you have been.” The man's voice slowly rose. “Well, you know I lost one of my...my slaves...” Watto began. “Your slaves? You mean the slaves we gave you. You were lucky. The one we gave you was pregnant. We allowed you to keep the child. You got a second slave for free.” The man picked up a broken pit-droid by the neck, and then threw it across the shop. “But we were okay with this. You had been faithful to us. So we waited. Gave you chances. But you cannot cross the BlackSun, Watto.” Watto lowered himself, and flew slightly away from the man. “Where is Kandros?” Watto asked. Kandros was his former BlackSun representative. “Dead. My name is Baraga. Kandros told us quite a bit about your operation, Watto. He died horribly.” Watto's heart froze. “Using the money you get... Which belongs to us... to free slaves. But not your own. That would be too obvious. So...you dip into our tribute, giving her...” Baraga smiled with sick humor. “An allowance.” “Kandros told us all of this. And it's also very funny, Watto, how the inhabitants of this planet will turn on each other for a few bits. Money is the gateway to the trustfulness of one's character. You cannot trust anyone here.” Baraga snapped his fingers. Watto's eyes grew teary and wide as he saw two aliens, dressed similarly to Baraga, dragged in a beaten slave. His slave. Shimi. Her hair fell over her face, which was bloody and beaten. Her clothes were ripped, horribly showing her bodily form, the body that he had joked about and eyed when she wasn't looking. “It was easy to find her. Like I said, Bits. People here would betray their fathers for those damn Bits.” “Please...don't...” Watto began, tears now falling from his eyes freely. “Oh, we won't kill her. We won't even kill you. You're both still relatively healthy. At least twenty more years of strength left in you. But we're taking this slave back. A man on this planet, a farmer who could always use more slaves... his name... Cliegg...” Baraga trailed off, feigning forgetfulness on the man's name. Watto, however, knew the name well. “Cliegg Lars...” Watto knew the man to be cruel. To be violent. He needed more and more slaves because he ruthlessly worked them to death. “How can his farm be more efficient? He'll kill her!” Watto raised his voice, though it was still stifled back by fear. Baraga sighed. “Watto, Cliegg pays his tribute. He always pays. Sometimes he gives us more than we need.” Baraga laughed. “He's a good slavemaster. Unlike you.” “Crot you, Baraga.” Watto swore. His eyes were red and filled with tears, a mixture of anger and sadness taking him. “We're done here. Zek, Talvo. Burn the shop down. Watto, I'd recommended you leave this shop. And I'll be expecting payment soon Next month, infact..” Baraga said, taking Shimi by her hair, leaving Zek and Talvo with Watto. They had fire-canisters. “We aren't going to wait for you to leave.” One of them said. Watto, filled with emotion, but too weak to resist, flew from his shop, dejected. When he heard the first canister explode, he tensed and shuddered, releasing himself to his woe. He cried, and cried freely. I'm sorry Shimi. I'm sorry.

BOBA FETT Boba hated Coruscant. It was not a hunter's planet. It stank, it smoked, and it was filled with avarice, lust, and corruption. He found himself in a low-level bar, experiencing all of the sensations of Coruscant at once. The bar reeked of death stick, he eyed sentients, mostly alien with a rough-looking human among them, gambling, He saw two humanoid aliens dressed in revealing outfits sticking to the corner of the bar across him, whispering and winking to whoever and whatever walked through the bar's doors. And then he saw a man dealing counterfeit trading passes. This man no doubt day-lighted as a Coruscant customs officer. He sighed and lifted his glass, which was half filled with a thick Coruscanti ale. He drank deeply, suppressing the urge to burp as he put his cup down. The only thing Boba hated more than Coruscant was waiting. He hated waiting. He glared at his fellow patrons as he opened his holocom. The bright device lighted up his lap in a white glow, and he frowned when he received no messages. He was waiting for his contractor. The man that had him kill Mace Windu and Ploo Koon. Apparently, he had another assignment for him. Boba smiled then. He remembered their deaths well. Death was the one thing that calmed him. And the thrill of the hunt was the one sensation that Boba craved. He lived, day to day, waiting to kill. The prospect of ending one's life made him feel like a god, like he had control over the entire universe. “You've finally showed up.” Boba said in a hushed voice as he put his holocom away, and looking up at the pale human who sat before him. The human was bald, with dark rings (Boba could not tell if it was makeup or natural) around the man's eyes. The man was dressed in dark clothing, like always, and was deathly thin. Strained purple lips curled into a smile, revealing too-white teeth. “I'm sorry. I know how much you hate it here.” The man croaked. He placed his hand on the table, and slid it towards Boba, and then lifted his hand slowly, returning it to his lap. Boba eyed the credit storage chip with little interest. “How much?” Boba asked. “Forty six thousand.” The man said, baring his disgusting grin again. “I don't need credits. There's only one thing I want.” Boba answered, getting up from the table. The man looked at Boba with wide eyes. “Oh! Stars! I forgot!” He exclaimed, a little too loud, as sentients began to look over to their table. Boba quickly snatched the credit chip before any of them saw it, and sat down again smoothly, finishing his drink in the process. “What else do you have for me?” Boba began to play with his empty cup, spinning it on the table. The man produced a small datapad. Boba lifted his eyes to it, and then back to his cup...and then his eyes darted to the datapad again, until he finally began to reach for it slowly. The man moved the datapad out of his reach slightly. “Give it to me.” Boba said darkly. The man grinned again. That horrible grin. “Once you fulfill your task, you will have the datapad.” The man teased. “Just tell me what to do.” Boba leaned forward, his dark eyes piercing. The man, shaken slightly, gulped and continued. “You are to go to Alderaan. And wait there until you are given further orders.” The man finished. “That's it?” Boba said, frowning. The man nodded. Boba glared at the man, but mirrored his nod, and then got up quickly, eager to leave the foggy smell of the bar. There was no honor in his current task. But he had no choice. Whatever the reason, he had to go to Alderaan. The datapad. His father. Boba swore silently as he walked through the darkness of the alley, in the bowels of the city-planet Coruscant. Father.

ALSO: Since someone pm'd me about some guy posting my story on fanfic.net... don't worry ahaha. That's me. But thanks for the warning. This is the second official link for this story, in more organized format as opposed to an ongoing thread. https://www.fanfiction.net/stats/story_eyes_chapter.php?month=10&year=2012&storytextid=31218656