DuracellEnergizer

How do you know he didn’t travel from the future to make that post?

doubleKO said:

ray_afraid said:

doubleKO said:

Signature images without animation are bad enough. I block them all, as a rule.

Can we block sig images again?! I’m off to do that if it’s possible again…

JEDIT: Looks like it’s not possible. Bluh.

Browser add-on (Adblock Plus with Element Hider). You can block all kinds of things, including skyscraper bunnies and Random Pictures posted by DuracellEnergizer  ;)

In other words: block all the fun.

Best:

Worst:

TV’s Frink said:

DuracellEnergizer said:

O hai nightmare fuel.

Apparently you didn’t notice the posts you made on the previous page.

But those were examples of psychological horror. This is Cronenberg-esque body horror.

EXT. KORRIBAN – VALLEY OF THE SLEEPING KINGS – ROAD – DAY

Here in the Valley of the Sleeping Kings, there is perfect silence. Aside from Anakin’s footfalls upon the stone road and the odd crackle of thunder that reverberates through the air with each strike of lightning that passes down from the heavy clouds, there isn’t a single sound to break the monotonous quiet. The effect is peculiar, eerie, and most unsettling.

EXT. VALLEY OF THE SLEEPING KINGS – GREAT TEMPLE – DAY

Anakin finally reaches the rear end of the Valley and with it his destination. Before him stands the Great Temple, the grand mausoleum he saw in the vision conjured by Nykres Eikhan. As it was in his vision, a carved effigy of a Sith male frames the entrance into the temple, its stone arms extended. Here, though, the braziers in its hands lie dead, cold as the Sith who sleep beyond.

Unholstering one of his blaster pistols, Anakin cautiously heads inside.

INT. GREAT TEMPLE/ANTECHAMBER – DAY

Anakin soon comes to the antechamber of the Great Temple’s burial chamber. The roof of the antechamber caved in a long time ago, leaving great boulders covered in layers of dust and cobwebs upon the floor. Making his way across the chamber, stepping across or between the boulders, Anakin comes across the shattered fragments of a large crystal lying amongst the debris in the centre of the chamber. Unable to discern the original purpose of the crystal, he proceeds onward.

INT. GREAT TEMPLE/BURIAL CHAMBER – DAY

Anakin enters the burial chamber. The chamber is rectangular, several metres across with a high ceiling – easily vaster than Eikhan’s tomb on Xuthltan or the atrium in the temple on Thule. Along both the left and right sides of the tomb are large, high thrones which bear the bodies of all the Lords and Ladies of the Sith who reigned in the final age of the Sith Empire. Past the thrones, at the far end of the chamber, are two peculiar objects: a large tetrahedral crystal and a cyclopean statue of a hooded figure, a sceptre held in its right hand and an orb in its left.

Anakin examines the thrones and the bodies seated upon them closely. Carved from obsidian, adorned with pairs of counchant tuk’ata statues which rest on secondary levels below the Sith, the thrones are identical in colour, size, and shape; only the unique crests adorning the face of each individual throne – the personal crests of the Lords they bear aloft – distinguish them. As for the bodies themselves, they all belong to the Sith race, though decay and desiccation have removed most distinguishing physical characteristics from their features.

Stopping in the exact centre of the chamber, Anakin holsters his blaster. Unslinging his rifle, his eyes dart left and right at the two rows of thrones.

ANAKIN: (presents the rifle to the mummies) Taka zeech ma toka duuwaj.

Slowly, Anakin places the blaster rifle down on the floor before his feet.

ANAKIN: (removes his gunbelt and presents it to the mummies) Taka zeech ma toka duuwaj.

He places the belt with pistols and vibroblade down with the rifle.

ANAKIN: Taka zeech ma toka duuwaj.

The former Jedi then slowly kneels down. Clenching his hands into fists, he places them against his forehead, the base of his palms pressed together.

ANAKIN: Taka zeech ma toka duuwaj.

He then takes his fists away from his forehead.

ANAKIN: (unclenches fists) Taka zeech ma toka duuwaj.

The rite completed, he slowly stands back up.

ANAKIN: I am Anakin Skywalker. I am a former Jedi Knight, outcast from that which you knew as the Galactic Republic. I have come before you, the ancient Lords of Sith, seeking an audience. I beseech thee – lend me your ear!

Anakin waits. All is still, all is silent. The tall braziers lining the chamber remain dark, the mummies naught but empty, lifeless shells. Still he waits and waits and waits. Several minutes pass, then he gives up.

ANAKIN: (crestfallen) Nothing. It’s been too long. There’s nothing for me here.

As he reaches down to retrieve his weapons, the braziers spontaneously ignite. Orange torchlight fills the Great Temple for the first time in five-thousand years. Forgetting his weapons, Anakin stands straight, eyes darting from throne to throne.

SITH SPIRIT #1: (O.S.) Jedi ….

A baleful glow begins to resonate within the empty sockets of the mummies. The sleepers have awakened. The Lords of the Sith live again.

SITH SPIRIT #2: (O.S.) Jedi!

ANAKIN: I –

SITH SPIRIT #3: (O.S.; angry) The hated enemy! Jedi!

ANAKIN: I am no longer Jedi!

SITH SPIRIT #4: (O.S.) Its tongue clicks with deception! Cut it from its mouth before it poisons the air with further lies!

ANAKIN: (frantic) Please! Hear me!

The disembodied voices of the Lords continue to rail against the former Jedi, raining venomous curses and threats upon him. Finally, from out of one of the mummies emanates AN AMORPHOUS BLUE SPIRIT. Assuming vaguely humanoid form, it rises to the ceiling, looming over the thrones beneath it.

SITH SPIRIT #5: Enough!

The other spirits fall silent.

The glowing blue spirit comes to hover over Anakin. It takes on a more defined shape: the form of a wizened Sith male wearing long hair, clad in voluminous robes and a horned helmet.

ANAKIN: (afraid) W-whom do I address?

SITH SPIRIT #5: In life I was Marka Ragnos, last of the true Lords of the Sith to reign before the fall of the Sith Empire. (beat) You court danger invading this, our inner sanctum, Jedi. Do you believe you can challenge us here?

ANAKIN: I have come for knowledge, not battle.

MARKA RAGNOS (SITH SPIRIT #5): You are Jedi.

ANAKIN: I am Jedi no longer. I have turned from that path.

MARKA RAGNOS: Explain.

ANAKIN: I became Jedi under false pretenses. I was ignorant of the history between they and the Sith, ignorant of the genocide perpetrated against your people. Once the truth was made known to me, I left my master.

MARKA RAGNOS: Thus you have come to Korriban. You yearn for the honour we bestowed but once before to the Jedi Exar Kun, yet your blood burns without his passion; you have not the heart of a Sith born.

ANAKIN: (passionate) My heart beats for my people! My blood burns for the peace, freedom, justice, and security of my Empire!

MARKA RAGNOS: From the Republic your Empire sprang forth?

ANAKIN: It did.

MARKA RAGNOS: Then you have sought our counsel in vain. The scion of our enemy is our enemy also.

ANAKIN: Almost two-hundred generations separate yours and mine. Sons do not rightly bear the sins of their fathers – or their grandfathers.

MARKA RAGNOS: The memories of the dead are long. Bygone transgressions remain fresh as hot milk, splinters in our mind’s eye.

ANAKIN: Then temper your wrath with honour. The Sith knew honour, didn’t they?

MARKA RAGNOS: We knew it.

ANAKIN: Then consider it now, for a million worlds are at stake. They are endangered by an agent of the dark side.

MARKA RAGNOS: (contemptuous) Light side, dark. Puerile oversimplifications as conceived by children.

ANAKIN: (frowns) An evil man – I do not know who – covets the throne of the Empire. If he takes it, his reign will be terrible; billions will die, billions more will suffer under his heel. I need to stop him; I need the power to stop him. You are the only ones who hold that power. Share it with me!

The Lords begin to chitter amongst themselves. Though Ragnos does not pitch in, he listens to their thoughts with rapt attention.

MARKA RAGNOS: (to Anakin) Your weapons.

Anakin’s brow furrows ever so slightly.

MARKA RAGNOS: (con’t) You will need them.

Ragnos then dissipates. As he vanishes, the eyes of the tuk’ata statues open, all glowing a dreadful red. Rising from their reclining positions, it becomes clear that they were never statues at all; they are real tuk’ata and they will not suffer Anakin’s presence in the chamber of their masters gladly.

O hai nightmare fuel.

MalàStrana said:

We don’t like French people here. Jar Jar Binks was basically your fault.

The incomprehensible speech, the lack of military prowess, the fact that he’s a giant frog – of course! It all makes sense now!

DuracellEnergizer said:

PRETTY HATE MACHINE – NINE INCH NAILS

ALBUM RATING: 9/10

ALBUM COVER RATING: 8/10

I’m going to upgrade that 9/10 score to a perfect 10.

ATMachine said:

I’d say Stargate, but this is a SW forum.

FTFM

SilverWook said:

Isn’t it easy to just, I don’t know, never ever watch a show you hate?

Not if you deliberately want to feed your hatred. That’s why I watched Will & Grace as a teenager.

Of course, I did have internalized biphobia. I doubt Ray has internalized … whatever the Big Bang Theory’s about.

Someone more CG now than man; twisted and permanently stuck in 1080p.

I dunno. Using time-lapse photography, it’s pretty neat watching mould spores grow on a book you’ve tucked away in a warm, moist area of the basement.

INT. BATTLEMOON/SGW-0027’S OFFICE

Sigeu is at her desk, busy going over paperwork, when her door BUZZES.

SGW-0027: Enter.

The door slides open and UIY – that is, UIY-2140 – steps inside.

SGW-0027: What may I do for you, Commander?

UIY-2140: Atha Prime, Admiral. He seeks an audience with you.

SGW-0027: Atha Prime alone?

UIY-2140: Indeed.

SGW-0027: Inform him I shall be there presently.

UIY-2149: (nods) As you like.

INT. BATTLEMOON/HOLOPROJECTION CHAMBER

Sigeu stands at the centre of the chamber as the larger than life hologram of Atha Prime comes to life before her. Clad in his customary robes of iridescent shimmersilk, he looks down upon her with hard eyes.

ATHA PRIME: Officer SGW-0027.

SGW-0027: Lord.

ATHA PRIME: It is time, Admiral. Ready your forces; the invasion commences in nine days.

INT. SLIPSTREAM/ANAKIN’S QUARTERS

Anakin is seated upon the floor. Cross-legged, eyes closed, he is in deep meditation.

There is a RAP, RAP, RAP at the door.

ANAKIN: Enter.

The door opens and Dahlia enters.

DAHLIA: We are two minutes away from the Horuset system.

Opening his eyes, Anakin rises to his full height. Dahlia’s yellow eyes intent upon him, he leaves the quarters.

INT. SLIPSTREAM/COCKPIT

Entering the cockpit, Dahlia slips down behind the controls. Seconds pass, her eyes focused on her readouts, then she disengages the hyperdrive.

EXT. SPACE – KORRIBAN

The Slipstream emerges into realspace. Right within view of the craft is the lonely planet of Korriban itself.

INT. SLIPSTREAM/COCKPIT

Dahlia studies Korriban with keen interest. The planet is a black-and-gray world, its surface still bearing the tell-tale marks of the bombardment which scoured it of life all those thousands of centuries before. Like Tatooine and Geonosis, Korriban appears to be a barren desert world; no substantial vegetation or bodies of water can be seen from this vantage point.

EXT. SPACE – KORRIBAN

The Slipstream makes its descent run towards the planet.

EXT. SPACE – BATTLEMOON

Far enough away from the battlemoon to avoid being registered on it sensors, the Troia’s Steed drops out of hyperspace.

INT. TROIA’S STEED/AIRLOCK

Obi-Wan and the Berals are donning their white clone jumpsuits when Tarkin enters the airlock. Upon his arrival, they stand ramrod straight, all attention on their commanding officer.

LT. CMDR. TARKIN: I trust you each have your datacards?

The four Jedi open the pockets on their jumpsuits or utility belts and withdraw identical black-and-red datacards.

LT. CMDR. TARKIN: Excellent. Now remember: You slip aboard covertly, head directly for the Overbridge, and once there upload the virus on your cards into their central computer. If all works as it should, the virus will force the computer to transmit shutdown codes to all inter-field generators in the network; it will then wipe the entire operating system out and disable the battlemoon permanently. Do this right, don’t draw any attention to yourselves, and you should be in-and-out within the span of fifty minutes. Are you all clear on what must be done?

The four Jedi nod.

LT. CMDR. TARKIN: Good. (beat) Synchronize chronometres. Synchronize … now.

All five Imperials synchronize their chronos. Thus the real grunt work begins.

EXT. KORRIBAN – VALLEY OF THE SLEEPING KINGS – DAY

Passing through a system of storm clouds, the Slipstream emerges over the Valley of the Sleeping Kings, that place where the thousands of Sith monarchs and their loyal vassals repose. Though still awe-inspiring in their greatness, the magnificent stone tombs and statues of the ancient Sith have fallen into disrepair in the five-thousand millennia which have passed since the fall of their Empire.

Coming to hover over the great paved road which runs through the Valley, the Slipstream touches down and powers down.

INT. SLIPSTREAM/ARMORY – DAY

Inside the ship’s armory, Anakin is equipping himself for the trial ahead. Taking a black suit of light armour out of a locker, he dons it. Covering his entire body from the neck down, the armour is form-fitting and flexible, made to accommodate the wearer’s natural speed and agility without compromising protection. While it isn’t strong enough to withstand anything as strong as direct blasterfire, it should keep him safe from whatever hazards may roam this desolate planet. He then equips himself with twin blaster pistols, a blaster rifle, several blaster packs, and a vibroblade.

DAHLIA: (O.C.) Black is your colour.

Anakin turns to Dahlia.

DAHLIA: (grins) Sexy and dangerous.

ANAKIN: (smiles) Blue remains yours.

DAHLIA: (pouts) Frigid and glum?

ANAKIN: Calming and confident.

DAHLIA: (twists strand of hair around her finger) Guilty as charged.

They move in close.

DAHLIA: (rests hands on Anakin’s chest) You certain I shouldn’t go with you?

ANAKIN: I gained some knowledge of this place when I was in rapport with Eikhan. In the days of the ancient Sith, creatures roamed the Valley, protected the tombs … tuk’ata, Sith hounds. I don’t know if any still exist, but if they do … I can’t risk your life. The Slipstream’s the safest place you can be.

DAHLIA: If you face that much danger, you have to let me come along. You’ll need the backup.

ANAKIN: As I told you, this is my cross to bear. What I have to face, I face alone.

Though crestfallen, Dahlia understands.

EXT. VALLEY OF THE SLEEPING KINGS – SLIPSTREAM – DAY

As Anakin steps out, he turns to Dahlia who stands in the ship’s open hatch.

ANAKIN: If I’m not back in four hours, leave.

Dahlia frowns.

ANAKIN: No arguments. Four hours.

Reluctant, she nods her assent. Satisfied, Anakin turns and sets off down the road.

A lightning bolt crackles down from the overcast sky above.

EXT. SPACE – BATTLEMOON

As the Troia’s Steed moves on approach for the battlemoon, it appears to fade from existence as its cloak is deployed, rendered fully invisible to all eyes and all sensors.

CUT TO

An airlock hatch opening in the emptiness of space.

Dressed in spacesuits, Obi-Wan and the Berals step out. Firing their suits’ thrusters, they’re propelled towards the battlemoon. Upon coming to the surface of the battlemoon, they engage the magnetic soles in their boots, allowing them to adhere to the metallic surface.

Walking along the face of the battlemoon as if it were a miniature planetoid, they soon come across a maintenance hatch leading inside. Opening the hatch, they slip on through.

INT. BATTLEMOON/AIRLOCK

Now inside the battlemoon and out of vacuum, they ditch their spacesuits. After the suits have been stowed away out of sight, Obi-Wan takes out a small holoprojector and activates it; a spherical map indicating the direction to the Overbridge is displayed.

OBI-WAN: Let’s go.

^Everything is proceeding as TV’s Frink Computer has foreseen.

TV’s Frink said:

I ruined this internet.

There’re others?

I love how those annoying donation popups on Wikipedia have gotten so large they now take up half the screen when they make an appearance. They make it so that I never want to donate to Wikipedia at all!

Sounds too raunchy.

My lead-in will be a finger puppet show performed by yours truly. Here are the finger puppet templates:

Here’s the strangest set of dreams I’ve had in a very long while. (Considering how strange my dreams almost always are, you know you’re in for something a might trippy.)

Things began with me in a hospital. I don’t know what the reasons for me being there were (probably psychological reasons), but John Lithgow was there. No, I can’t recall whether he was part of the staff or a patient nor can I recall him actually doing or saying anything, but he was there just the same.

Then things got odd. I found myself in a supermarket, where I donned a Superman-esque costume with an inverted colour scheme (think blue-and-red rather than red-and-blue) and began flying around. Orderlies from the hospital were there, trying to capture me, but I flew too fast for them to catch me. Then I was back at the hospital (I think). There I met the Smallville Superman and got into an argument with him; I criticized him for turning Clark Kent into a simpering disguise and engaged him in a philosophical debate over what it meant to be Clark Kent.

Then I found myself at home. I was no longer wearing the costume, but I could still fly. I can often fly in my dreams; it’s my dream power, you could say. I can’t usually fly very high, though; often, it’s closer to levitation than true flight most of the time. This time, however, I was going higher than I ever had before. It was a mild, sunny day, and I could touch the treetops; it was exhilarating. As I’d always wanted to know what my house rooftop looked like, I wanted to fly up there. I still couldn’t quite fly that high. Luckily for me, Laurie Metcalf was there to give me a hand. Boosting me up, I was able to fly up high enough to grab hold of the roof’s edge. Unfortunately, it turned out the entire roof was rotten; unable to support my weight, that entire side of the roof gave way; I fell to the ground along with pieces of rotten, waterlogged siding.

The dream then turned creepy. I was suddenly in my old bedroom. As ominous ambient music played in the background, I watched as the ceiling slowly disintegrated, crumbling under the pressure of the waterlogged insulation sitting above it.

Then I found myself in a video store. There were two different BD sets of Jeffrey Combs horror movies available, on sale for only literally a couple bucks each. Unfortunately, I didn’t even have $2 on me, so I couldn’t buy either one.

Then I found myself watching a Rod Stewart music video. He was driving around the outskirts of a suburb with a blonde in a black convertible at night. Did I mention he was Rod Stewart? Yeah, he was – even though he looked like David Bowie and sounded like Mick Jagger. Anyway, as they drove around, night turned to day, the black convertible turned to a white minivan, and the blonde turned into an entourage of several men. Suddenly, I found myself in the music video. The minivan pulled up beside me, Stewart’s entourage got out, and this one man – a police officer with his face caked in mud – pushed me to the ground and apprehended me.

I was taken to an insane asylum, and who should happen to be the attending psychologist but Patrick Bateman! Dr. Bateman was too busy treating other patients with chainsaws and blowtorches to see me right away. Luckily for all concerned, John Saxon was there to save the day. Dressed in pink sweatshirt and sweatpants, he confronted Bateman. Pulling two flare guns out from the waistband of his sweatpants, he asked Bateman if he was feeling lucky. Bateman, pussy that he is, couldn’t stand up to the Saxon and surrendered almost immediately without resistance.

This is probably the absolute worst thing I have ever created, but I just could not help myself.

SilverWook said:

And no, it’s not photoshop…

EXT. ABAFAR – PONS ORA – DR. EVAZAN’S COSMETIC SURGERY – DAY

On the remote Outer Rim world of Abafar, in a corner of dusty Pons Ora, stands Dr. Evazan’s Cosmetic Surgery, a small, decrepit clinic.

INT. DR. EVAZAN’S COSMETIC SURGERY/OPERATING ROOM – DAY

Within the dingy operating room, working under a single overhead light, DR. CORNELIUS EVAZAN is busy at work. His patient recently lost an arm, and the good doctor has seen fit to replace it with a bionic prosthesis.

DR. EVAZAN: (finishes making the final connections) There, finished. Good as new.

Evazan steps back, allowing Llomon to sit up. There on his right arm, grafted just above where his original elbow used to be, is a large blaster cannon.

LLOMON: It’s heavy. (flexes elbow) It’s sluggish.

DR. EVAZAN: The nerves in your arm haven’t fully integrated with the neural interface yet. Give it time. Before long it’ll feel as much a part of you as your old arm did.

LLOMON: (flexes elbow) I want to test it out.

DR. EVAZAN: Follow me.

EXT. DR. EVAZAN’S COSMETIC SURGERY/FIRING RANGE – DAY

Evazan takes the Trandoshan out back behind his clinic, where he has had a modest firing range set up. A number of inactive 'droids have been lined up, dressed and positioned to vaguely resemble intimidating thugs, bounty hunters, and police officers.

Bringing forth his new limb, Llomon targets the 'droids and opens fire, blasting them all to smithereens with superheated orange plasma balls.

DR. EVAZAN: (grins) Satisfied?

LLOMON: I am.

INT. SLIPSTREAM/DAHLIA’S QUARTERS

Within Dahlia’s quarters, Anakin sits at a round dining table, dressed in clean, pressed, nice clothes. Leaving the kitchenette, Dahlia – wearing a simple but pretty red dress – comes to the table bearing two plates laden with thick nerf steaks and scalloped potatoes. Setting one plate down in front of Anakin, she crosses to the other side of the table and sets the other there as she takes her seat.

DAHLIA: Nerf steaks. Scalloped potatoes. (beat) I always keep good food on-board, but I only eat it on very special occasions. (beat) Try your steak. I hope it’s how you wanted it. Medium well, right?

ANAKIN: (takes a bite of steak) Medium well, exactly.

DAHLIA: (grins) Excellent. (takes a bite of steak) Mmm. I love it rare, myself. Can’t eat it any other way.

Dahlia, ravenous, quickly sets about shovelling food into her mouth. Anakin isn’t feeling nearly so peckish.

DAHLIA: (frowns) Is there something wrong with the food?

ANAKIN: No, nothing’s wrong with the food. It’s perfect. The best I’ve eaten since … I left Orron III.

DAHLIA: (sighs) You’re thinking about Nashira. (beat) Anakin, long-distance relationships … they never work out in the end. Couples make vows of everlasting love, promise faithfully to remain true forever and always, forsaking all others … but they’re just romantic lies they tell themselves. Sooner, later, they find themselves drawn to other people … falling in love with other people. They move on. (rests a hand on Anakin’s) It’s natural, healthy. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

ANAKIN: You don’t understand. We share a rapport, a connection. Through the Force, we feel what the other feels; pleasure … and pain. (beat) Right now I feel her inside me. Her heart is breaking and she doesn’t know why. (beat) But I do.

DAHLIA: (smiles) I believe you. I believe you and Nashira do share a deep, intimate connection. It’s beautiful. You and Nashira will be in each other’s hearts always. But you do feel the connection we have, don’t you?

ANAKIN: I do.

DAHLIA: It may not be as strong as yours and Nashira’s, but give it time. The slender sapling becomes the sturdy oak with time.

ANAKIN: But here and now, we suffer. (beat) Would you have me make love to you again, knowing Nashira will feel what I feel, knowing how deep it will hurt her?

DAHLIA: No. My appetites are strong, but not that strong. (beat) I’m willing to wait however long it takes for the two of you to reprioritize your feelings.

ANAKIN: (facepalms) It was a mistake. What we did was a mistake.

DAHLIA: (shakes her head) It wasn’t a mistake.

ANAKIN: It was a mistake! It was my mistake! I should’ve known better! I love 'Shira!

Leaving her chair, Dahlia walks on over to Anakin. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she begins to massage them.

DAHLIA: Right now, this ship is hurtling toward the tombworld of the ancient Sith. Once we arrive, if you find what you seek, you will gain power beyond measure. But with that power comes a price. You will become an enemy of the Jedi and their allies. Your poster will be plastered on every civilized world throughout the Empire. Police will seek to capture you. Bounty hunters will try to claim the price on your head. You will be a fugitive, always on the run, never able to sleep another peaceful sleep. (beat) Do you believe Nashira loves you enough to give up her normal, comfortable life to run with you in the night, world-to-world, never resting, never stopping, in constant danger? Do you really want her to? (turns his head to face her) I will run with you, all the days of your life.

They kiss.

INT. GEONOSIS – SANDCRAWLER/PRISON AREA – EVENING

Darth and Mitra are asleep in each other’s arms when the hatch opens and the four same Raiders from before enter in.

RAIDER #1: (points at Anakin and Mitra) The kids.

Stepping forward, two of the Raiders grab Anakin and Mitra and hoist them up. Jolted out of their uneasy sleep, the kids begin kicking and screaming.

INT. SANDCRAWLER/CONTROL ROOM – EVENING

Shiiid stands before Chlorian, examining him closely as if he were a particularly interesting bug under a magnifying glass. Chlorian, still strapped into the rack, appears weak and weary. Of course, it shouldn’t come as much surprise; aside from the fact that he hasn’t eaten a thing since long before he was captured, he has had his left hand cut off.

ELIK SHIIID: You’re hungry, aren’t you, Chlorian? How long’s it been since you had yourself a bite? Before we made you at home, I’d wager. How long? A week? Much longer?

Chlorian GROANS.

ELIK SHIIID: You can’t say we didn’t offer you a hand. (laughs)

CHLORIAN: You’re mad.

Chlorian’s stomach RUMBLES.

ELIK SHIIID: (rubs Chlorian’s belly) Not as mad as your stomach! (laughs) Governor, I consider myself a moral man. Now, a moral man couldn’t very well go around killing his fellow sapient and cooking him on a spit were all his bolts screwed tightly in place, could he? Could he? He’d have to be cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs to even consider such things. (pokes Chlorian in the gut) You’ve considered such things before, haven’t you, Chlorian Vader? Out there on the hardpan, forcing yourself to swallow down lichen scrapings, you couldn’t help but look at your bestest friend this side of the known Galaxy and conceptualize how easy the flesh of his bicep would go down your voracious throat. I know you have. I know. What I want to know is whether or not those thoughts came from a man who is moral.

Before Chlorian can give any sort of answer, the Raiders with the children come on in.

RAIDER #1: We’ll be havin’ sucklin’ brat tonight!

Chlorian is horrified when he sees Darth and Mitra held in the greasy arms of the Raiders.

CHLORIAN: No! NO!

The Raiders carry the children over to the barbeque, where the coals are already hot.

CHLORIAN: Shiiid, stop them! Call them off! Call them off!

ELIK SHIIID: (frowns) But why? They’ll be so tender.

CHLORIAN: They’re mine! They’re mine!

ELIK SHIIID: (waves hand) Pshaw! I know you have no children living in-system.

CHLORIAN: Darth is my son!

Chlorian makes eye contact with Darth.

CHLORIAN: Darth is my son …

ELIK SHIIID: (grins) A bastard, you say?

Leaving Chlorian, Shiiid jumps on over to the Raider holding Darth. Leaning in close, he studies the boy’s features.

ELIK SHIIID: Not the strongest resemblance. Must take after his mother. (turns to Chlorian) You ever take him to a smashball game?

CHLORIAN: He didn’t know. He didn’t know I was his father. (beat) I never told him.

ELIK SHIIID: That answers my question. (pinches Darth’s check) Let’s open them up and throw them on the grill.

Drawing a knife out of his belt, Shiiid raises it to Darth’s throat.

CHLORIAN: You can’t! You can’t! Please!

ELIK SHIIID: Geonosis never was a place for children. It’s best we snuff them out to prevent them any further torment.

CHLORIAN: Darth’s a mechanic!

Shiiid rests the blade against Darth’s throat but doesn’t draw it across.

ELIK SHIIID: Mechanic?

CHLORIAN: He’s good with tools! He can take things apart or put them together! He modified his own skimboard! He can help you with the repairs to your sandcrawler!

ELIK SHIIID: The devil you say?

CHLORIAN: He can! I swear he can! Just leave them both alone!

The Zabrak takes the blade away from the boy’s throat.

ELIK SHIIID: (taps the blade against his head) How does this sound: We’ll put him to work on our vehicles and tools, first – our damaged stuff. If he shows a penchant for fixing things mechanical, we’ll spare his hide and put him to work on the sandcrawler engines. Does that sound sweet?

CHLORIAN: It does! It does!

ELIK SHIIID: (smiles) A deal it is then.

Leaving Darth, Shiiid walks over to Mitra. What he had planned to do to Darth he does do to her – without hesitation. Both Darth and Chlorian, son and father, begin screaming wildly, thrashing against their restraints or captors, violently seeking to free themselves, to exact retribution against these murderers. They cannot.

ELIK SHIIID: The girl had nothing to offer. Now she does.

CHLORIAN: (enraged) I will kill you, Shiiid! By the names of all the gods that must exist, I swear you will die by that very same knife!

ELIK SHIIID: There are no gods on Geonosis.

Little did he know it was all tentacle hentai.

…

Oops – did I say that out loud?