Creative WHAT-ing?

[Triss-chan - ... KAWAII!]

Creative Writing ... something I do in the vague, small amount sof my free time, between my life's current 2 Main focuses, that is being College, and RP-ing, and I suppose I could say that all Role-Playing is, is technically a form of Creative Writing, so therefore I do lots Creative Writing instead, but that's like comparing Frogs and Toads .... but I digress.

Basically ... this bunch of Ideas sprung up after seeing, and then playing, the Ultimate Sith Edition of Star Wars: The Force Unleashed and me going and using the thrice-damned cursed phrase utterable only by those with over-active imaginations: "I wonder what happens next?" ... well, here we go then *gulp*

[Triss-chan - ... KAWAII!]

There was the harsh sound of footsteps on metal, heavy footsteps, so heavy in fact that it was almost like a stomp, a stomp which spelled only one thing, he was getting closer.

He pressed his back up against the cold, metal surface of the wall, feeling the chill through the clothing he wore, something akin to the training gear used by those of which he had fought against, the Imperials. His hand shook as it gripped the lightsaber in his hands, both with fear, and with rage. The lightsaber had belonged to his father, until he had been killed by it, then it had fallen into his possession, given to him by … by his Master.

Suddenly, behind him, somewhere off to the right, there was a sharp, and recognizable snap-hiss, and as he flung himself to one side, a column of red light lanced through where he had been hiding, leaving an orange line in the metal surface which glowed dimly in the dark from where the lightsaber had burned it.

The same single blade of red slammed forward out of the darkness, causing him to dive to one side again, where it curved another orange line, this time in the floor, and there was the sound of metal hissing as it cooled. Flicking the switch, the lightsaber in his hands flared into life with a similar snap-hiss, as he flung himself forward, hatred and anger coursing through his veins like molten lava. This was the one man responsible for everything, the pain, the fury, the anger, the destruction, the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands, it was all his fault, and he would make him pay, this time he would make him pay!

He felt the slight disturbance, heard the heavy, mechanical breathing and struck without thinking, feeling the darkness ripple of himself as it infused him with power, yet somehow his Master was able to parry the blow, and he caught a momentary glimpse of metal flashing of a light somewhere as a bladed, metallic fist slammed into the pit of his stomach in a vicious, merciless blow.

There was a slight woosh! As he felt the breath leave his lungs, there was a momentary pause … then he collapsed onto the metallic floor, gasping for air, as his lightsaber feel from his hands and deactivated, where it rolled across the floor, until it was stopped as a black, heavy boot trod on it with the slightest disdain. He didn’t look up, he knew who it was, but even as he gasped for breath, he felt those same flesh-like metallic finger wrapped themselves around his throat like an unyielding vice, the sharp, metal edges stretching out from the fingertips digging painfully into his skin, as his master lifted him easily, in the same way you would perhaps lift a kitten by the scruff of the neck.

“Once again Skywalker, you have failed!”

The grip around his throat tightened slightly, and he felt his breathing rate suddenly increase as the flow of oxygen became sporadic, more intense, and the world began to swim a little as the grip got tighter, and tighter, and the metal sank deeper, and deeper and…

In a swift, dexterous motion, he was flung to the ground, he felt the air suddenly rush around him as he sucked in one clean breath to clear his head, before he smashed back-first into the floor, the back of his skull whipping into the floor, this time the world swam to an even more extreme as he choked slightly on the pain, and glared up with vibroblades in his eyes into the metallic face of his Master.

“See that is does not happen again, or you will suffer greatly!”

All he heard after that was the continuous sound of those same heavy footfalls and the gentle hiss of the doors sliding open … and then shut again, then he relaxed a little, just a little, letting his body open itself up to the pain which it now possessed, the dark pains which thrummed on the surface and the emotional ones which raged beneath. Tentatively, he reached out to touch his Father’s lightsaber, almost as if it might suddenly attack him, gripping the hilt, he pulled it too his chest and cradled it. As he lay on the floor, feeling the slow, warm trickle of blood run down his neck, and the dark bruises beginning to converge around his throat, Luke Skywalker wept with anguish.