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Kidnapped.
Of all stupid things, Chancellor Palpatine found himself kidnapped against his will. Now, ordinarily, that wouldn’t have bothered him one bit, for he was fully confident that Anakin would rescue him. But it was the who that had kidnapped him that bothered him.
“Welcome, my friends!” Hondo Ohnaka beamed, his goggled-eyes gleaming in what can only be described as maniacally. “To my humble abode, yes?”
Palpatine groaned, unable to stop himself and buried his head in his hands.
“Hey, boss!” One of Hondo’s goons chortled. “That’s a new record, eh? Five seconds for ‘em to break down.”
Hondo smiled gleefully. “Let’s see how long before the Chancellor cries, eh, boys?”
The Weequay watched impassively as they transferred the prisoner.
“I will resist your torture!” Palpatine shouted as he was dragged away, his voice growing fainter by the second. “You will never break me!”
“Drinks!” One of his pirate crew cheered, already imagining the gleaming new credits.
Turns out, it didn’t take long for Palpatine to ‘break’, because a few hours into his life of imprisonment, the Republic arrived, guns blazing with a righteous fury. Sounds of explosions took place outside, and from somewhere inside his cell, Palpatine perked up.
Oh, he was so ready to get out of this place.
The cell door swung open with a majestic thump, revealing… Obi-Wan Kenobi in all his glory.
Palpatine choked back on a yowl of horror and envy.
Kenobi’s copper hair was flipping through the air, like one of those pirate holo-dramas that Anakin insisted on showing him. His skin glistened with sweat, muscles defining itself from underneath a dark, torn cloak. The light trickled in through the room, surrounding the Jedi-that-Palpatine-hated-the-most with a blinding, awe-inspiring light that would make many faint.
A thought rose unbidden in the Chancellor’s mind, and he immediately heated himself for thinking it.
Kenobi looked really, really good in dark colours.
Sidious was suddenly aware of the fact that Kenobi would make a glorious Sith.
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“Master.” Count Dooku knelt. His throat bobbled nervously. “Our latest campaign to seize control of Ondrell has failed.”
“Let me guess,” Darth Sidious sighed, looking suprisingly resigned. “Kenobi?”
“Yes.” Dooku nodded. Slowly, he looked up, meeting Sidious’s yellow-eyes full-on. “Master, might I suggest turning Kenobi to the Dark Side?”
“He’s your grand-padawan, the last one worthy of your lineage, brilliant man, etc, etc.” Sidious stated flatly, having heard this argument many times before.
“Yes.” Dooku grasped at that, a small flicker of hope on his face. “Obi-Wan employed this brilliant strategy, and Grievious and my droids never saw it coming!”
Sidious rolled his eyes.
Dooku was always like that. The man simply could not shut up about talking about his beloved grand-padawan. It was always ‘Obi-Wan did this…’ and ‘Obi-Wan did that…’ blah blah blah.
But having seen Kenobi in Sith clothes action, Sidious was inclined to agree with Dooku.
He stared at the comm device. The eager face of Count Dooku peered back at him.
“Go ahead.” He sighed, waving his hands distractedly. “Make Kenobi join you. Whatever. See if I care.”
“Yippeeee!” Dooku squealed, and Palpatine winced at the high-pitch noise.
Gathering his dignity, Palpatine turned his back, shutting off the communicator with a sharp flick of the wrist. He had more important things to do. He sat there for the whole afternoon in his apartment, brooding and scowling to himself, and throwing champagne glasses at the wall whenever he felt like it.
It was just not fair!
Why did Kenobi have to look so… so good in black!