Song: "Kit Fisto Duels Grievous" from Star Wars: The Clone Wars OST

Later, Grievous lurked in the shadowy canyons of Vandos, hands on his lightsabers, glaring at the man who knelt before him. "You were unwise to traverse this far, Ambassador Quiyyen."

The Anx ambassador who had become lured into his trap gazed at the general with swollen eyes and a nosebleed. "Perhaps. But I will not stay this way for long. Your miserable life, on the other hand....that might be another story."

"Try me," Grievous growled, though amusement crept up his throat in a chuckle. He stroked a lightsaber, taken from a Jedi he had slaughtered on Tovarskl nine months ago. What had his name been....Nymastall. Padawan to the Jedi Puroth.

Grievous was beginning to have a difficult time keeping up with these names. A database might be in order once he lured those devils D'oon and Jmmaar and D'oon's Padawan into the trap he'd set for them with Quiyyen.

"Do not underestimate the Jedi," the ambassador warned.

He stared at Quiyyen. "You, in chains, tell me not to underestimate them."

"You will die soon."

He scoffed. "Preposterous."

"General," a droid said through the com-link he kept close to his ear. "The intruders have docked on the planet. They are not aware of your presence."

Letting out a cough, Grievous narrowed his eyes and unhooked his cape. "All the better," he muttered.

✺✺✺

It was an obscenely long amount of time before the trio of Jedi—the humans T'Chooka D'oon and Flynn Kybo, along with the Viraanntesse Jmmaar—entered the room. Grievous stood taloned to the ceiling, hanging only by his claws and craning the mess of pipes and wires that was his neck to observe them.

"Ambassador!" the Padawan shouted, rushing forward. "Are you hurt?"

Quiyyen wasted no time. "It's a trap! You shouldn't have come!"

"That's nonsense," Jmmaar chided, clicking his ten legs as he came forward to undo Quiyyen's bonds. His lightsaber glistened even from here, engraved with little silver designs.

Grievous stared at it for a long moment, deciding who first to kill, then nosedived from the ceiling. The air rushed against his eyes as he pummeled all his weight against Jmmaar's crustacean-like frame, crushing the wretched Jedi to the floor. He snagged the lightsaber from his hip, clenching it in his talon.

D'oon—that horrible creature who had sentenced his people to starvation—ignited his lightsaber. "Flynn! Get the ambassador to our ship!"

The younger man, who looked to be barely out of childhood, responded with terrified eyes. "Quiyyen, come on. We have to go."

"You monster!" Grievous snarled, and rushed at the door, but Kybo and Quiyyen rushed out ahead of him. The doors shut themselves around the Jedi Master....but also barricaded Grievous in.

Grievous circled the one remaining enemy who had actively sought out the destruction of Kalee, his lightsabers spinning in a duology of glowing disks, chopping the floor and the remains of Jmmaar's body.

The vibrant green of D'oon's blade shone against his large, ruddy face—plump from being on Coruscant, in the temple of a religious group that had caused him such pain. He would savor this moment in which he struck down this vile man once and for all.

D'oon's face was calm. "You're not a droid," he said, though Grievous continued spinning his sabers. "You're Kaleesh. Flesh and blood."

"Save your apologies," Grievous growled, moving closer. "You're too late." And he threw his lightsabers in for the first strike.

D'oon parried remarkably well, but Grievous had his advantage of strength. He hacked at the Jedi, trying to get the older, chubbier man to break. Everyone broke before him. He was powerful. Nothing could defeat him—not Kummar, not the Order, not the Republic.

Their faces neared. His forehead glistening with sweat, D'oon spoke in a strained voice. "I....recognize your eyes."

"Of course you should," Grievous responded, pushing to sever D'oon's torso with his blades. "Any guesses before you die?"

D'oon swallowed, his normally red face paler. "You're the khagan at Coruscant," he gasped out. "You're Qymaen jai Sheelal."

His vitriol came out in a strangled cry. "Yes," he seethed. "I am a monster you created, D'oon. Taste the cup you poured for yourself."

And before the Jedi could respond, Grievous sliced through his torso, leaving him in three pieces on the ground.

✺✺✺

He didn't bother to clean up after his kills, but picked up his foe's lightsaber—the finest addition to his collection so far. Crushing the bloody corpses of the Jedi who had killed his people beneath his huge metal talons, he ordered the droids to let him out, and they complied.

Along the way to his starfighter, he washed his body in a small stream along the desert planet. When he could, he enjoyed the feeling the water brought against his sleek metal frame—like soft fingers stroking him in another place and another time.

Reminders of things he had long ago forgotten bubbled just out of reach in his head. Before they brought irritation with them, he stood and shook out the droplets from between his joints, walking toward the sleek starfighter that he had called the Soulless One—a tribute to that Yam'rii scum on Tovarskl, who had refused to surrender even when they were clearly losing.

Entering his starfighter, he sped upward, looking for Kybo so he could make the three lightsabers he now carried against his hips a total of four.

✺✺✺

Kybo's ship had moved out of the range of the Soulless One, but another red mark appeared on his scanners. He pressed the small button near his audio-receptor. "Continue to scan for any signs of Kybo's ship. I must follow this signal alone."

"Roger-roger," came the doubtful reply from the other end. Grievous steered toward the Republic shuttle, scanning it for life-forms, and came up with seven.

Jedi? Clones? If there is a Jedi, he's got his platoon. But what fools would they be to only bring six soldiers?

Maybe another Separatist general had routed the Jedi, and the only ones who had survived were the general and his six wounded clones. In that case....he was happy to finish the job.

He shot a blast at the ship, knocking its guns out, and sent a message to the pilot of the ship. "If you wish for your crew to survive, you will halt and permit my entrance."

The ship stopped. Grievous tilted his head, fingering the runes on his cloak. What is this Jedi scum hiding on his vessel?

Usually the Republic refused to listen to him. Either he was becoming a true threat to their existence....or this Jedi was carrying something too valuable for Grievous to pass by.

The dock opened, and he boarded the ship, igniting his lightsabers and going to the main hold. An Abyssin in Jedi robes awaited him, his own green saber drawn.

Grievous didn't even know his name, but he had no intention of finding out. He rasped a greeting. "So, Jedi, what do you have for me aboard your ship?"

The Jedi spoke in a language Grievous didn't understand, then attacked. But the general made short work of him, impaling him through the heart before he could even make the first strike. Perhaps he was a newly-graduated Knight, or just bad at anticipating Grievous' moves. Either way, the general stepped over his body, prying the door to the dressing room open with his bare claws.

Six Padawans between the ages of eight and twelve, of several different species, cowered in fear at him. He studied their gaunt faces, their creased Jedi robes, their small lightsabers.

He took a lightsaber in his secondary hand, preparing to strike them, but a harsh whine came over his audio-receptors, piercing his brain—which lay limp inside his metallic skull. Before he could cry out in pain, he deactivated it and faced them. Perhaps their fate was not to be killed just yet.

So this is what the Abyssin left behind for me.

Younglings. The future of the Jedi Order.

✺✺✺

He brought them to the recently-conquered planet of Ugnaught. Along the way to the citadel, the Nautolan youngling burst into tears, sobbing something about how they were all going to die.

He was about to turn around and order the boy's silence, but an older human girl with black hair and ivory skin—features which he hated, as they belonged to Kummar—comforted him. "Don't be afraid, Bindi," she said. "We'll be dead soon and join the Force."

Oh, you wish, Grievous wanted to say—for he did indeed have an idea of how they could serve the Separatist alliance. And not just as Sith, like Dooku would have wanted.

The Nautolan sobbed into the girl's vest wordlessly, wracked with tremors. With each sob, Grievous' anger rose until his head pounded. "Keep moving!" he barked. "To the citadel!"

The girl gazed at him with silent fury. "Banz, help me carry Bindi," she said to the human boy next to her.

Banz, seeing that the girl was clearly the leader of the group, helped her carry the weeping Nautolan to the citadel roof.

✺✺✺

"I wish to rebuild them married to metal as I am," Grievous said to the small holoprojection of Dooku as he went off to the side of the children.

"Married to metal?" Dooku echoed, a bemused smile parting his beard. "Do go on."

"My lord, they are strong in the Force. If properly trained, and invincible as I am, they could make fine warriors for your use."

The count studied his ancient hands. "But to operate on children."

"Does the matter concern you?" Grievous asked.

Dooku stared down his nose, miffed by the general's sudden brashness. Grievous coughed into his fist. "I mean no disrespect. I simply believe...." that maybe if they become like I am, they can be truly fulfilled.

The younglings were far too young to have known the wickedness of the Order, certainly too young to be complicit in it. It was their job to save them before the Jedi consumed their thinking and they became mindless weapons.

"I wish for them to serve our cause, Count."

"My only concern is that their lack of blood would make their perception of the Force....dull."

He clenched his fists, anger rising in his chest. "My perception of the Force is tainted because my blood was lost in the shuttle crash. My shortcomings will have no bearing on them."

Dooku rose from his chair in the hologram. "If the Geonosians can find a way to preserve their blood, I will permit the experiment," he said casually. "But if they cannot....you will face dire consequences, General. You have already failed to capture Kummar."

"Kummar?" Grievous laughed. "I will have her in my grasp soon enough."

"I seem to recall hearing that before," the count said, his voice silky. "You must go back to Kalee and track her down after you take the children to Geonosis."

"My lord, a year has passed. It is possible that she...." he made a slicing motion across his neck. So many of his people had committed suicide because of their shame at his taking of the planet.

Dooku shook his head. "She is still alive. I can sense it in the Force."

◈◈◈

Did you know....

● This chapter and the next are both based on the 2005 Grievous comics, which are very good reads if you want to see how much the Republic really sucks. The art style isn't my thing, but I still really liked them.

● Nine months have passed since Grievous murdered the Jedi on Tovarskl. If you want to find out what happened during those nine months, watch the first two seasons of the 2008 TV show The Clone Wars or the first few appearances he makes in the 2003 miniseries Clone Wars (they don't contradict each other with Grievous).

● I would write more of those adventures here, as I actually like The Clone Wars a ton, but I have two reasons why I'm not going to. First, I have a major bias against Grievous in that series (fun fact), and I don't want to let that affect the way I portray him in anything I write based off of that series. Second, I can't have too many canon rewrites, and I've already had three. That's toeing the line.

Tell me what you think....

● What will Dooku do to Ronderu if Grievous captures her?

● Is there still good left in Grievous? Why or why not?