1 Well shit
(Vader POV)
My eyes open abruptly and I take a moment to understand what just happened. It would seem that my memories have just come back to me. The price I had to pay, has been paid. I used to be a normal human on Earth in my last life. I died and was offered an opportunity - the opportunity to reincarnate in a world of my choosing. But I would have to pay the price for that. I foolishly accepted that bargain.
I was granted two boons and the chance to be reincarnated as one of my favourite characters, Anakin Skywalker. What I wasn't told, what I couldn't know, was that I would not gain my memories and the boons until much later in my life. So this led me to become Darth Vader. One of the most iconic villains in the history of movies and comic books.
I think back to my origins. The life I led, the slavery I was born into, the Jedi that took me in and separated me from my mother. My mother, who was killed, my rage after that, my love for Padme and my fear of losing her ...
And of course, the one that was responsible for most of all that. The one that manipulated me into becoming his apprentice and now a lapdog.
I remember the pain, I have every day, all day, every second of it. The fear which I had, that proved useless and that made me go down the rabbit hole. The hate ... the hate for Obi-Wan, Padme who I thought betrayed me, my master who orchestrated most of this ... and especially hate for myself.
It has been 10 years since I became what I am right now, Darth Vader. There is no going back and I wouldn't want that anyway. I find it ironic that in the end, the force might just get what it wants. But no matter what anyone wants, it is time I do what I want. And I want to deal with Sidious. I still remember what he told me when I found out about Padme's death.
(Flashback)
"I realize this has been a ... traumatic time for you. But if you touch me with the force again, I will finish what Kenobi could not.", Sidious says pointing his Lightsaber at my throat.
"You are my friend, Lord Vader. I do hope we never find ourselves in this position again. Rise the great work must continue. You think of revenge. You wish to leave, to find the source of all your pain. I can sense it. Set such feelings aside. Your personal vendettas pale next to the needs of our galactic empire."
...
"Your power will become endless, Lord Vader. And then we shall rule ... as one."
(Flashback end)
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I will take your words to heart, my 'master'. I will set those feelings aside for now and focus on my strengths. But ... I will rise to greater power than even you could not dream of. Alone and we will not rule as one. Now, it is possible. It is possible due to the 'boons' which have finally unlocked. Two Meta Essences.
The Essence of the Blank and the Essence of the Nomad. These two are perfect for me and for this Universe that is far far away. I will grow stronger in both body and the force. Now that I have this chance, I will use it. The idea that I only used such ‚small' fractions of the powers of the force is a crime. Well no more.
I use the Force to operate the machinery and start the process of assembling my suit. I am currently inside the Bacta Tank in Fortress Vader on Mustafar and usually use this position to do repairs or upgrades to my suit. I believe it is time for me to improve upon it again. But that will have to wait until I get my hands on some worthy materials.
The machinery comes to life and begins assembling everything. Two mechanical arms descend from above and unplug two life support systems in my back. Once those are carefully removed, it makes way for the installation of my cybernetic replacements. The cybernetic limbs are precision-crafted by yours truly, to seamlessly integrate with his remaining organic tissue and nerve endings, ensuring optimal functionality and mobility. I still believe that my having to use the Force to move optimally, uses a lot of my power which I don't have during a fight. But that will change now anyway.
Two cybernetic limbs for my arms are first locked in place. They have to bite into my flesh to stay in place. After this comes the legs, which I lost when Obi-Wan cut them off. Every time I feel the pain of the life-sustaining armour attaching to myself and biting into my body, I think back to the fight we had. The words I said to Obi-Wan.
'If you're not with me, you're against me ... Don't make me kill you ... I do not fear the Dark Side ... I see through the lies of the Jedi ...'
.
I also think about Sidious and those droids, every time I put on the suit. The fact that it was meant to be a punishment for me by Sidious...
Long accustomed to building and rebuilding droids, supercharging the engine of land speeders and starfighters, upgrade the mechanisms that controlled the first of his artificial limbs I was dismayed by the incompetence of the medical droids, responsible for my 'resurrection'. In Sidious' lofty laboratory on Coruscant, my alloy lower legs were bulked by strips of armour.
What remained of my real limbs, ended in bulbs of grafted flesh, inserted into machines that triggered movement through the reuse of modules that interfaced with my damaged nerve endings. But instead of using Durasteel, the medical droids substituted an inferior alloy and failed to inspect the strips, which protect the electromotive lines.
As a result, the inner linings of this pressurized body suit were continually hooking on places where the strips were anchored to knee and ankle joints. The tall boots were a poor fit for my artificial feet, whose claw-like toes lacked the electrostatic sensitivity and my equal false fingertips raised in the heel, the cumbersome foot gear canted me slightly forward, forcing me to move with exaggerated caution, lest I stumble or topple over.
What's worse, they were so heavy that I often felt rooted to the ground, as if I was moving in high gravity. What good was motion of this sort, when I had to call on the Force, just to walk? And let's not talk about fighting ... I may as well have resigned myself to using a repulsor chair and abandoned movement entirely.
The defects in my prosthetic arms mirrored those of my legs. Only the right one felt natural to me. Though it too was artificial. The pneumatic mechanisms that supplied articulation and support, were sometimes way too slow to respond. The weighty cloak, the pectoral plating .. so restricted my movement, that I could scarcely lift my arms over my head. I had already been forced to adapt my lightsaber combat, just to compensate.
The sleeves of the body suit didn't hug the prosthesis as they should. The elbow-length gloves dangled and pressed at the wrists.
.
Finally, the last pieces of my suit are being put in place. First the neck piece. Then the front. But this ... is not seeing. The pressurized mast was goggle-eyed, fish-mouthed, short-snouted and needlessly angular over the cheekbones. Coupled with the flaring dome of a helmet that is now snapping in place, the mask gives me the appearance of an ancient Sith Wardroid.
The dark hemispheres that covered my eyes filtered out light, which might have caused further injury to my damaged corneas and retinas and prevented me from being able to see the toes of my boots, without inclining my head almost 90°.
Listening to the servo motors that drove my limbs, I think to myself that this ... is not hearing. The droids rebuilt the cartilage of my outer ears. But my eardrums, having melted completely in Mustafars had been beyond repair. Sound waves now had to be transmitted directly to implants in my inner ear. And sounds were registered as if underwater. Worse, the implants lacked sufficient discrimination, so that too many ambient sounds were picked up and their distance and direction were too difficult to determine. Sometimes the sensors needled me with feedback or attached echo or vibrato effects.
.
Now that the mask was on my head I took my first breath for the day.
*Kchch puuh*
Allowing my lungs to fill with air. This might be the most disappointing and angering aspect and work of the med droids. From the control box I wore, which was strapped to my chest and had spikes piercing my skin, a thick cable entered my torso. It was linked to a breathing apparatus and heartbeat regulator. The ventilator was implanted in my hideously scarred chest along with tubes that ran directly into my damaged lungs and others that entered my throat. So that, should the chest plate or belt control panels develop a glitch, I could breathe unassisted for a limited time.
But the monitoring panel 'beeped' frequently and for no reason whatsoever. The blinking of useless lights only served as a steady reminder of my vulnerability.
*Kchch puuh*
The incessant wrath of my breathing interfered with my ability to rest ... let alone sleep. And should I manage to sleep, it was a nightmarish jumble of twisted, recurrent memories, that unfolded to excruciating sounds. At least, the med droids had inserted the redundant breathing tubes low enough, so that with the aid of an enunciator, my scorched vocal cords could still form sounds and words ...
.
But it wasn't all bad. I let all of these things be as they were and used them as fuel for my progress in the Dark Side of the Force. The snapping and piercing of the apparatus and the pain it gave me only fueled the hate I had for Obi-Wan and for myself for losing to Obi-Wan, allowing me to grow stronger.
The heavy limbs and the sluggish movement, forced me to adapt in both lightsaber combat as well as basic movements. I had to use the Force to make even one step. The lack of sleep forced me to use the Force as a means to recuperate and fill up my energy. The useless sounds and the bad craftsmanship, allowed me to further improve my focus and the use of the Force in fine-tuning.
I was now more powerful than I was when I first turned to the Dark Side. And the longer I went on like this and the older I became, the more powerful I got.
The enunciator allowed my voice to appear dark and menacing, the mask made me look threatening and the constant use of the Force to give me back the lacking grace I had to move, allowed me to have a dark and dangerous presence. I talked less, but when I did, it was heard and everyone took my words to heart.
The chest armour that protected my artificial lung, weighed me down as did the electrode-studded collar that supported the outside's helmet, necessary to safeguard these cybernetic devices, that replaced the uppermost of my vertebrae. This forced me to use the Force to see what was happening around me and sense dangers and other things.
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But it was enough now. I was now, no longer the same who thought that I had to punish myself for my failure to protect Padme. She was dead, that was enough and now it was time to move on. I will slowly replace these trashy pieces of my suit and improve them. But not yet. I will use this faulty piece of technology to use the Force and grow more powerful.
And when I have grown proficient enough to simply forget about the suit, then I will upgrade it. I will need to bide my time. Sidious tests me constantly and want's me to know that I will be replaced, should I not perform to his liking. But we shall see what happens.
