AN: TRIPLE RELEASE, go back a ch
Resting inside a mid-sized transport bay, the cyborg body Tarkin had been piloting underwent emergency repairs, and was being charged. A team of technicians and engineers were constantly welding, and screwing on attachments. A broken arm was replaced with a clawed hand holding onto a power staff-like the kind Grievous' guards wielded-and missiles were loaded into their tubes.
"Sir, I must insist that we return for a full biopsy and repair. To continue combat in this state…it's untenable!" The lead engineer, a lab coat wearing man, spoke up.
"Sir, the tracker lost contact! ETA is in five minutes, the Tarkin troopers have been assembled." A man dressed in more advanced clone patterned armor added on a second later.
The two men glanced at one another, the unseen power plays of the Tarkin family at work.
Tarkin, for his part, had been reliving a moment of his childhood. In his vision, he was hunting the wild life on Eriadu's jungles. The scene was vivid, as if he were really there. Raising the one arm mounted laser cannon that remained, Tarkin depressed the trigger, thinking he was hunting a predator.
In reality, a technician who was drinking coffee on break took the brunt of the attack, and was turned into minced meat.
The pair of men shared another glance, this time, it was one of worry.
"To hunt the prey, we must follow the blood scent. Hesitation means death." Tarkin said as if he were teaching a lesson to his own child, his mechanical eyes looked 'through' the men as if they weren't there.
"Purge the data, the cyberpsychosis is getting worse. And someone get a clamp on that cannon, damnit!" The lead engineer commanded his team, and then began to furiously type away at his keyboard.
Tarkin began to flail, and pushed another technician off of him, and was about to stomp him dead, when a program swept through his systems, refreshing his connections.
"Kriff it all, his auto-refresh feedback dampener has been damaged. The only way to purge his corruption is to manually do it. I can't sign off on this operation, Captain!" The lead engineer complained, and slammed an open palm on his computer.
"That's…I'll contact the patriarch." The Captain hesitated, and was about to make the call, when Tarkin's head eerily jerked, and the noble, hooked nosed face of Wilhuff Tarkin glared at them.
"Hm? Captain, why are we not deployed onto the enemy?" Tarkin turned his head to the family guard captain, and pressed.
"As reported sir, we lost contact near sector J-35, and are enroute. I have a cordon in place, and have begun evacuating the civilians." The Captain saluted, and barely withheld a shudder at the creepy encounter.
"Evacuate?! Such incompetence!" Tarkin hissed. "If the tracker is disabled, then the fish will slip through the net! No, there shall be no evacuations. Execute them all."
"....yes my Lord." The Captain replied, his face going white.
"Lord Tarkin, the diagnostic report says your advanced audio receptors are damaged, and your power bank has only been charged to 55%." The lead engineer stated what was wrong, but this time, refrained from offering any advice, sticking strictly to the facts.
"The enemy of Eriadu is before us. After this victory, we shall all be heroes of the Empire. I look forward to your continued support, doctor." Tarkin dismissed.
The engineer swallowed his words, and kept his head down as he continued to operate on the bulky machine.
"We lost too many good men down there, Tarkin. Several to friendly fire." Commander Vekk accused, and crossed his arms.
Flanked by his four remaining brothers, the Mandalorians cut an intimidating pose.
"You have been promised your reward upon completion of your task. Casualties are a part of war, gentleman. You are, however, free to leave should you find these terms unsatisfactory." Tarkin smirked, and talked down to them.
One of the Mandalorians looked like he was going to raise his blaster, eliciting dozens of corporate troopers within the hangar from raising theirs in kind.
A brief standoff ensued, and Vekk stared Tarkin in his cold, lifeless eyes.
"But I suppose a little payment couldn't hurt. Captain, bring the Mandalorians a few of their toys."
"Yes, Lord Tarkin. Follow me mercenaries." The Captain said in an unkind tone, and then led them to another hangar.
"But, but I haven't finished my research! I have almost completely replicated the basilisk wardroid's blueprints, a copy has been sent to his Majesty, and is almost ready for assembly. The patriarch said those weapons were for-" The engineer got out, but then bit his tongue as Tarkin sent him a withering glare.
Minutes passed, and after the cybersuit had been fully rearmed, the cuplinks holding the cybersuit in place hissed as they lost pressure, and snapped off. Emerging from a cloud of steam, the hatch leading to Tarkin's cockpit spammed shut, and the mech stood up.
The 12ft tall mechanical monster's footsteps were like thunder as it moved towards the edge of the ship's hangar.
"Leave no survivors." Tarkin commanded.
Then he jumped.
Breaking his fall with ion-blue jets, the siege frame crushed steel beneath it as it stomped through the hollowed out husk of the Eriadu Central Railworks, Revan's last known hiding place. Sparks showered every which way as the mech scraped its power staff along the ground, and waves of heat followed in his wake, as turbines vented excess energy into the atmosphere.
All around him, tens of thousands of Tarkin family, corporate troopers began to unload upon the unsuspecting crowds of people. Tarkin ignored them in favor of reviewing footage of his fight.
"All data confirms the target has no known power source. No reactor, no armor field. His weapon is little more than an energy stick. And yet…" Tarkin uncharacteristically muttered aloud to himself, the cyberware, rapid cloning procedure, and chemicals pumping into his brain having left him a shell of his former self.
He leaned forward, brow twitching slightly. He felt as if something was off, but he couldn't place it. His clawed hand twitched, and an electric impulse tried to purge his systems, but he clamped down on it.
To Tarkin, Revan was a historical parasite. Some failed Jedi warlord, resurrected through cloning, a figurehead clouded in cultist superstition, and delusional legends of grandeur. The "Force" was just mysticism. Psychic delusion. Primitive nonsense. The feats he had witnessed during his time in the military must be the result of forbidden technology, and an over reliance on chems. He had once overhead conversation of something called midichlorians…that must be the drug those sick robe wearing fanatics had become reliant upon.
"This isn't sorcery. It's sleight of hand with radiation. Tricks. Myth and conjured holograms meant to frighten children. They can bleed, I saw to that! And I will be the one to end it with logic, steel, and superior firepower." Tarkin announced to himself.
The troopers by his side glanced at Tarkin with worry and fear, his monologue hadn't gone unnoticed. This armored cybernetic organism acted nothing like the prim and proper Wilhuff Tarkin they were accustomed to working with. What had happened to him? Where was the lethal precision, the strategic mind that they had all relied upon?
Tarkin's voice filtered through their comms a moment later, it was clinical and cold.
"Box him in. Drive Revan into the southeast corridor. Cut off his options for escape. Eliminate all who stand in your way, but leave his body intact. The people deserve to witness the fate of all martyrs." Tarkin pointed his clawed mechanical fist out into an open section of street.
All his troops saw was an area full of burnt out vehicles, and a few corpses. To their eyes, Revan was nowhere to be found.
"...." No one dared rebuke their delusional lord. They knew the fate of all who disobeyed.
To Tarkin's corrupted sensors, Revan darted between shadows, still bleeding from earlier hits, his robe tore at the seams. His saber pulsed in his hand, clearly still weakened from that ion missile from earlier. Tarkin watched Revan move from cover to cover.
"There. You see it?" He said to himself. "He's tired. Limping. Exhausted. The hunt has reached its climax, let us enjoy the feast!"
He spoke as if analyzing an animal, as if being a Jedi was to be lesser than even xenos. The more he watched Revan struggle, the more excited he became!
A civilian fireteam burst into the corridor behind Revan, and they began to shoot at Tarkin, and his troops.
"S-sir, those are our units, what are you-!" A trooper got out, but had his throat squeezed by Tarkin's claw, choking the life out of him.
"No, you fool. The Jedi has infected you with hallucinogens!" Tarkin snapped. "Open fire, slay the rebels."
He then lifted the mech's cannon arm and pulled the trigger.
A concentrated burst of turbolaser fire vaporized the first dozens of rebels in a burst of heat and force. Screams echoed, and bodies flew into the air. Dust and bodies rained from overhead catwalks. He pivoted the mech again, and fired another salvo, this time his target was a support beam. The ceiling buckled, and the enemy armored vehicles were caught in the partial collapse of a bridge.
"They weren't part of the report, where did these rebels come from?" Tarkin muttered to himself, and mentally prepared himself for new, unexpected encounters.
Revan continued his queer dance, somehow evading everything in sight. He had to admit, the masked man was like a force of nature. However, he was but a man, and bled like the rest of them!
The mech's laser cannon primed again, but Revan vanished into a haze of smoke and debris.
A warning klaxon sounded in his suit, and Tarkin found his power bank was flashing red at 21%
"How. When?! Captain." Tarkin barked, "Contain this religious fanatic before it spreads further."
The Captain's voice, tight with frustration, crackled back over the comms. It sounded like it was coming from a million miles away, Tarkin could barely hear it.
"Yo-...aaare. cccccoruppted. Booot. Have oo reb-oot!!!" The Captain's panicked voice sounded in his ear.
'Blasted audio receptors. The engineer should have fixed those first.'
Before Tarkin could finish that thought, another wave of rebels came at him, guns blazing. A shockwave rocked his feet as a missile landed near him, and he was forced to propel himself backwards. A support column collapsed on top of him, and flames erupted all around him.
[HULL INTEGRITY CRITICAL!] (x10)
Various figures and numbers flashed across his screen, and he could barely process all the raw data that was streaming into his mind, driving him insane.
And through it all, Revan kept moving in and out of the rebel line. He was slipping between gaps, striking only when it mattered, then disappearing like a phantom as he engaged his stealth generator.
"End. All. Interference." Tarkin grit to himself as he breathed heavily, and began to shoot everything he had in his arsenal.
The concussive force leveled the street he was on, taking out everything in sight. Mandos dove for cover.
"Sir you're hitting friendlies, sir!"
"Collateral." Tarkin snapped. "Obstacles to be overcome in the pursuit of peace. Fall in line or be part of the purge." Tarkin simply stated. He glanced over his shoulder to see who had said that, so he could execute them on the spot.
However, there was no one there.
If he could blink, he would. Tarkin stared at the empty spot, and his chem addled mind screeched to a halt.
*RUN DIAGNOSTIC*
Tarkin expected to see a string of 1's and 0's run across his interface, yet there was nothing. Instead, he saw a very dim, almost invisible: power 0.5%.
In that silence, Revan rose from the wreckage, his robes were perfectly clean, and all signs of damage were gone from his form. The Jedi didn't utter a word as he slowly walked up to him.
Tarkin towered over the masked man, and tried to raise his arm, yet found he couldn't move an inch.
"You are not real! An illusion given form by superstition and weakness! You hold no power here, Revan. Men, kill this vermin."
A low mocking chuckle left Revan's mask, as nothing happened.
"What have you done." Tarkin coldly demanded. His memories of his noble upbringing refused to give even an inch.
Revan didn't answer with words, instead, he snapped his finger.
Then the scene around him whooshed like a snapped rubberband. The chaos, and fires were real, and remained as it was…but the dead rebels…they were in reality, all Tarkin loyalists!
Understanding dawned on him. He had killed all of his own troops!!!
There still had to be a chance at victory. Where were the Mandalorians?! Had they abandoned him!? "Vekk, Vekk!" Tarkin desperately called out.
Revan wordlessly ignited his twin lightsabers, and easily cut through the cybersuit as if it were butter, and his weapons were super heated knives.
"I was to be the Jedi's replacement. A new super soldier that would enforce His Majesty's will." Tarkin said quietly to himself, as if saying those words would somehow change the situation.
"Don't kid yourself. You're nothing more than a rudimentary prototype. It's clear you were built to be disposable. Your mind is weak, like puddy, and despite your firepower, you have no clue how to use it. You're nothing but a flawed copy, a pale reflection of the original." Revan dismissed, as if Tarkin was no more consequential than the changing of one day to the next.
Exposed to the night sky, Tarkin looked upon that masked countenance, and for the first time in this life, the arrogance had left him. He felt something that should have been impossible considering his implants, and the chemicals that drowned his brain.
That something was:
Fear.
~~~~~~~~
AN: Jedi Shadow gonna Jedi Shadow. Full frontal assault? No thanks!