Slicing down his own officers, Darth Vader's temper flared. He had failed his Master. He knew he was going to pay for it. But that didn't matter right now. Aboard his ship, the feared Sith Lord lurked through the murky hallways, speeding his way to his personal chambers. Nobody was allowed back there; officially. Fury screamed through his veins; he just had to kill some, if not all, of his officers. They were useless. They had no purpose to him.

"M-m-my Lord," stuttered a scared officer, cautiously approaching the murderous Sith, "The Emper-" The rest of her report was cut off with the snap of her neck; Vader's fist clenched tight. She dropped to the floor. Dead.

She was officer fifteen who had tried to get him to contact his impatient Master in the last half an hour. These Imps were well... dumb, stupid imps. They didn't know when to leave him alone. It was like Palpatine was doing this on purpose; to drive him insane, perhaps or maybe to personally find Palpatine and choke him to death. He knew it was best not to strike down the old wrinkle sack of a Sith who just sat on his rear end all day, expecting his underlings - which unfortunately included Vader.   

Anger spewed from his cells to his emotions. Life by life, he mercilessly struck down more and more officers, and the occasional buckethead who was in the right place at the wrong time. Every life he ended felt satisfying. He craved for blood... Stroke by stroke, he had replaced the dull grey imperial interior design with blood red paint oozing down the walls and pooling on the floors.

He didn't regret killing any of those officers; in fact, he embraced it. His anger and thirst for blood evaporated into the Force for later use. Storming down the corridors, Vader drifted through pools of cold blood. The janitors could deal with his murderous mess. Eventually, he entered his private chambers. As he entered dim lights illuminated the dingy walls full of blood red art and Sith Artefacts, carefully arranged on  narrow shelves. Behind his simple desk, the Sith Lord opened the last report sent to him by his useful soldiers. 

Darkness surrounded him. It was like a huge blanket with no means of escape. He was one with the Darkside; nobody could pull out his body's original host...Skywalker. Darth Vader was here to stay. Forever. He could feel something. A someone. Someone who he could trust.... "What brings you here?" He asked.

"The lightsaber you requested..." replied the figure, lurking in the darkness, behind Vader's over the top seat, decorated with elaborate markings, only the ancient Sith understood. Tossing the Lightsaber to the Sith Lord, the figure watched his hand instantly snap around the silver cylinder.

"Very good," applauded Vader from beneath his black hood, "My Apprentice.

"I have an important mission for you. One that could prove to me that you are truly ready to defeat Darth Sidious and claim your rightful title.

"The Rebel Cell that escaped my clutches has some very important cargo. Guarded by small but powerful group of Jedi terrorists, is a certain clone who has a unique ability that could unlock unknown powers the Sith have never seen. You will know the clone when you see them. They too have a strong presence within the Force. I want you to eliminate all of these Jedi and retrieve my cargo alive."

"Yes, my Master." bowed the figure, "I shall depart at once."

"Take your annoying Droid companion." ordered Vader, sick and tired of the unique training droid bugging him every fifteen minutes of his devious life. "I will assign you a new pilot... This would pilot number seven, I assume?"

"Yes, Lord Vader." replied the figure, remembering every time Vader personally struck down his pilots, just because they had information Vader didn't want getting out, especially to Emperor Palpatine and his preposterous band of snitches from High Command, like new comer Commander Thrawn.

"Impress me," threatened Vader, holding the hilt of his lightsaber with his mechanical hand, "Or face a slow painful death.... Starkiller."