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Chapter Text

Primeday the 21st of Fivemonth, 22 BBY/-17023 C.R.C 

Senate Dome

Early Morning

Commander Fox stepped onto the Chancellor’s podium and cleared his throat. “I am here to announce that the Supreme Chancellor is dead. Before anyone speaks, I have an important announcement,” he said, launching into his speech.

“By section Volume B, 686.b.543.c of the Naboo Charter, any citizen of Naboo may assume the position of the Senator, queen or king of Naboo if the previous Senator, queen or king of Naboo is dead by their hand. As I am a citizen of Naboo, as shown in the documents now being distributed, I have the right to assume the role of Supreme Chancellor due to the previously mentioned law, assuming I killed the Chancellor. Which I did.”

“This means I am now the Supreme Chancellor,” Fox finished with a smirk behind his helmet. 

There was an immediate uproar. 

“You can’t do this!”

“A clone can’t be the Chancellor!”

“I say we call a murder trial!”

“Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

“Decommission it!”

Fox pulled back from the podium. “Are you all in position?” he said into his comm.

“Yes, Commander,” Stone replied.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Thire quipped.

“We’re ready to roll,” Thorn said.

“The blockade is complete.” Rex declared. 

“The Two Twelfth is ready when you need it. We’ve got your six.” Cody promised.

“Oya , Fox!” Wolffe shouted. “We are ready to hunt.”

“Your Generals?” Fox asked.

“General Skywalker is uncooperative and subdued. Commander Tano is cooperative and left the Resolute willingly.”

“General Koon is cooperative and is currently in his quarters.”

“General Kenobi is cooperative and insisted on joining us in disguise.”

Commander Fox turned back to the Senate, an unseen grin on his face.

“Senators, please raise your hands or closest equivalent limbs to the air, hold them there, and chant "I surrender" as loud as you can until told to stop. If you do so, you may have a chance of living through the next minute.”

A dramatic pause for emphasis, then we strike.

“Initiate protocol Alpha Tango Seventeen Fifty-Four,” he declared with a magnanimous sweep of the hand.

Chaos immediately broke out in the Senate Dome. Only a handful of Senators immediately surrendered, most of them the few Senators warned beforehand. A quartet of gunships loaded with Guards crashed through the roof and immediately opened fire on the Senate. Dozens of Senators died in the first few seconds, and hundreds attempted to flee, though many surrendered. The Senate Dome rang with panicked screaming and the intermittent sounds of blaster fire and breaking furniture.

About eight dozen Senators made it to the dome’s main exit, many nursing blaster wounds. They were met head-on by a large group of 104th troopers. Gray and white armoured soldiers surrounded the doors, blasters pointed at the heedless Senators.

“Help us!” a Senator shouted, waving their arms wildly. They promptly rethought their life choices when a 104th trooper shot them in the head. Their corpse sank to the ground, prompting the rest of the surviving runaways to scatter. 

They didn’t get far, even with the element of surprise lost. Even though each Senator was wealthy beyond reason and incredibly powerful politically, they were no warriors. Unarmored and too crippled by decades of excess to dodge, they fell within seconds to a single barrage of poorly aimed (by clone standards) blaster bolts before they even reached the first line of troopers.

In mere minutes, three-quarters of the Senate was good and truly dead, and the other quarter was in interrogation rooms. (Or in the case of Senators Amidala, Mon Mothma, Chuchi and Organa, their quarters. They deserved a nap.)

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Primeday the 21st of Fivemonth, 22 BBY/-17023 C.R.C 

Senate Dome

Early Afternoon

Taking over the Republic was never going to be an easy feat. Unfortunately, Thorn was the one dealing with the mess, as Fox was currently holding a Senate session and Thorn was the second best at improvised speeches. 

Said mess was twofold- the shattered debris of the Senate Dome, and the pack of hungry jackals outside the Dome, also known as the media.

Flanked by a dozen Coruscant Guards and a small handful of 212th troopers, Thorn strode out the remains of the main entrance to the Senate Dome. A breeze kicked up dried flower petals and the acrid scent of blaster smoke as he walked down the mildly burnt ramp.

The media immediately swarmed the Commander, held back only by the bright yellow tape surrounding the Dome and the intimidating presence of the Guard.

Thorn cleared his throat. Here goes nothing .

“I am Commander Thorn of the Coruscant Guard. As Supreme Chancellor Fox is currently unavailable, I will be filling in for him temporarily. All Republic activities are to continue as norm-.”

Thorn was interrupted when part of a pane of glass broke free and shattered a few feet away from his feet. Tiny fragments of glass bounced off the back of his legs.

 “Sorry!” one of the construction workers yelled.

 “ Ahem . As I was saying, all Republic activities are to continue as normal. In addition, all clones are to be granted Republic citizenship and all GAR and Guard property and funding will be redistributed among clones based on the decisions made by an internal Guard committee.”

Behind him, a small crane was slowly approaching the side of the Senate Dome, loaded with a creaking pile of paint cans and plywood. The beeping noise it made was beginning to echo in Thorn’s ears.  He felt a headache coming on.

“Any new policy changes will be added to the Senate holosite as they are put into action, though I will assure you that one of the first priorities of the new government is to end the war with the Separatists. I bid each and every one of you a good day, night, morning or afternoon depending on your local time zone.”

Thorn turned towards the door, his kama swishing dramatically. With regimented precision, the Guard troopers followed him in two neat rows. A few seconds later, the 212th troopers followed in a rough approximation of a rearguard formation. 

Centaxday the 22nd of Fivemonth, 22 BBY/-17023 C.R.C 

Jedi Council Chambers

Mid-Morning

Jedi Master Mace Windu had a headache. Unfortunately, he had run out of headache medicine two hours ago. This was why he was currently trying to sit through a Council meeting with his brain feeling like it was attempting to remove itself from his skull and pour out his eyeballs. And the shatterpoints. Would. Not. Stop.

“Supreme Chancellor Fox, interesting he is. Unprecedented, this is. Meditate on this, I must.” Master Yoda said.

Most of the assembled Masters nodded. Mace tuned out the Council in favour of staring blankly out the window, where shatterpoints sparked into being and dissolved in mere seconds in a rapid whirlwind of spidery cracks in reality. The Senate Building’s exterior was mostly concealed under hundreds of thousands of shatterpoints, both small and large. 

Mace closed his eyes, waited a few seconds, then opened them. The sea of shatterpoints did not dissipate.

Chapter Text

Zhellday the 19th of Fivemonth, 22 BBY/-17023 C.R.C 

Level 345, Coruscant

Late Night

Broken glass crunched underfoot as a pair of human teens approached the darkened husk of an old shop. Their cheap clothing was dirty and torn, little distinguishing them from the hordes of poor and dispossessed that normally flooded the alleyways of Coruscant.

“Rhenn, why are we breaking into a nail studio? one asked the other.

“Quiet, Keor. He will hear us.” Rhenn whispered, clapping a hand over their brother’s mouth.

The flickering, half-dead neon sign proudly proclaiming “Bell Reeng Nail Studio” (or as it now read, “B LL RE N NAI TUD O”) creaked awkwardly in the wind. An empty piece of snack packaging blew past Keor’s feet, tumbling down a ladder. 

Rhenn walked up to the door and pressed one hand to the old analog padlock, their footsteps eerily loud in the near-silence.

“Open sesame,” they whispered. With a soft click , the lock fell to the ground, bouncing once and then coming to a stop at their feet. The door swung open, revealing the rather anticlimactic interior. The walls were bare concrete and the floor equally blank, with the only furniture being a pair of old chairs.

Keor’s gaze shifted warily around the room as his sibling led him to an old doorway, marked Staff Only in faded red paint. With a dusty creak, the door swung open with a light touch.

Beyond the door was a stockroom full of various-sized bottles and cheap plastic storage bins. With shaking hands, Rhenn grabbed a box off a shelf and dumped its contents onto the floor. Tiny sticks, plastic decals and pieces of foam packaging bounced off the tiling, Rhenn seizing a single item before it hit the floor. Casting the now-empty box aside, they ran their hands over the ornate black stone sculpture.

“See, Keor! I told you we’d find something!”

Their eyes suddenly widened. Seconds later, a pulse of black light washed over the building.

Rhenn haphazardly shoved their brother behind a shelf as they seized and fell to the floor. Their hands scrabbled for purchase on the tiles, a grimace painted on their face.

“Run, Keor! I don’t know how long it will stay under my control!” 

Already, yellow was beginning to creep over the blue of their irises. The teen blinked, the yellow receding for a second, then surging.

Keor nodded, dashing out of the building with tears glistening in their eyes. With a slammed door left in his footsteps, he fled the scene.

Inside the storeroom, Rhenn’s body pulled himself to his feet, yellow eyes ablaze. With a huff, the yellow was replaced by a normal-looking hazel. The Sith surveyed their new body with a dismissive look.

“Hm. I’d prefer something older, but this will have to do until I have better pickings.”

Turning on his heels, he strode out of the building, grabbing the stone sculpture as he passed.