Chapter Text
He could hear the sound of blaster fire echo all around him, but because of his auditory upgrades he could pinpoint just where it was coming from. But that wasn’t what he was listening for, no, instead he was listening for the telltale hum of a lightsaber. He had already collected several trophies after killing their owners. His job down here was to protect the Separatist Council hidden away from the main conflict, it was only a minor concern to him, really. His main goal was, and had been for some time, to eliminate the Jedi for what they had done to his people and to him. He, General Grievous, would see to it that every last Jedi died. Be it by his hand or under his command of the droid army. Their entire order would fall, and so would the corrupt Republic who had left them to die.
There were times when he would try to think back to his time on Kalee but it was always… Clouded. He had been told it was a side effect of the major surgery he’d received and the major trauma he’d endured. But… Grievous rubbed at his armored head as his mind began to buzz before shaking it, and the thought that led to it, off. He had more important things to think about than… What had he been thinking of? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he would avenge Kalee.
Ah, but there it was. That familiar hum he’d been waiting for. Numerous blades were ignited, there were four, no, five of them. With a single gesture he and his Magna Guard were on the move. He came to a stop overlooking a cavern. The droid general couldn’t help but be… disappointed in what he'd found. Instead of five Jedi there were only two. A Besalisk male and a younger Togruta female. The male, likely a master, was the source of his confusion in terms of the number he’d anticipated. He wielded two double bladed lightsabers, one blue and one green. Fine trophies, unique, they would be a fine addition to his growing collection. The Togruta was wielding a kind of lightsaber that, so far, he had only seen Dooku wield. A curved hilt, apparently favored for lightsaber dueling. Perhaps this was a master and apprentice duo? Their fighting styles differed greatly; the master more aggressive and the apprentice more controlled but both with unique styles to their sabers. He also spotted a braid with beads hanging off the back of the woman's Akul teeth headdress, so far he had only seen those on a few of the younger Jedi he'd killed. Still, these two were an odd pair.
Grievous elected to watch them for a moment more, the Besalisk was a skilled fighter, more than proficient with the four blades he carried. But he was not the only one who could wield so many at a time. This Jedi would be a challenge, but oh how he would relish this combat. The other Jedi he had faced so far had been mere child’s play. Young Knights, ‘padawans’ perhaps. He turned his gaze to the Togruta next, surprised to see just how exhausted the young woman looked already. Tilting his head and narrowing his eyes he continued to observe her. The battle had only just started, and the Jedi were known for their endurance. There was the chance that her master had done most of the heavy lifting for her while she was in this state, but he quickly found that unlikely. The Master didn’t seem to even acknowledge her presence, did nothing to cover his apprentice, and several of the shots he deflected from his sabers would fly wild, forcing the padawan to deflect those as well.
This was not just fatigue from the battle, nor from having to deal with an uncaring teacher. This was a fatigue that had been ongoing, perhaps for days or even longer.
Of course the Jedi would be just as cruel and unfeeling towards their own as they were to others. While normally the thought would have amused him, now it only made him hate them that much more. He would put the padawan out of her misery and slay the elder without a trace of mercy.
He knew that he could not be seen from where he was, he had made sure of it, so it was surprising when she turned her gaze up towards him. It was then that he recalled, but he couldn’t be sure from where, that her species had echolocation that could stretch as far out as 80 feet. Was he within that range? But then why only now had she looked up towards him? Come to think of it... How had he known about the headdress?
The momentary lapse in attention had cost her though, a blaster bolt made contact with her leg, pulling a cry of pain from her. Surprisingly her Master finally spared her a glance, but instead of any concern Grievous only saw annoyance before he glanced back at the ever encroaching droids marching towards them. Another surprise came when the Besalisk leapt up onto an outcropping over a dozen feet above them that led into one of the many openings into the underground maze. His padawan attempted to follow, but whether it was the new injury, old fatigue, or both she did not make it up. She landed back on the ground, immediately having to go back on the defense. “Master!” She called up to him.
Her master only stared down at her, unmoved, before turning and walking further into the catacombs. There was no urgency to his exit, which made the abandonment all the worse.
The purple Togruta’s eyes widened as she stared off after her master, but if Grievous didn’t know any better… He’d say there wasn’t any real surprise in her face. Just sadness. To her credit, she continued to fight, with even more vigor than before. Grievous growled, moving to grab his lightsabers. He hated the Jedi, and while he felt no remorse for the padawan left to die he was still enraged at the dishonor he’d just witnessed. He could at least give her a warrior's death, but before he could leap down to finally join the battle a few more blaster bolts broke her defense and landed. Non lethal so far, but it would not last.
But… Something… Something about this felt familiar, it made him hang back. The young woman was clearly not going to survive this: outnumbered, surrounded, suffering from several wounds already. He’d seen this before. And it hurt, but he couldn’t place why it hurt so. The buzzing in his head was back, and it quickly became pounding within the remains of his skull. He kept watching, he had to know why this apparently meant something to him.
The droids were very close to her now, and she was hacking them apart with a fervor. Knowing she would die but refusing to give up.
The dam in his mind suddenly broke. Grievous could see it within his mind's eye; another woman, hair wild, karabbac mask over her face, painted in the blood of their enemies. Outnumbered, surrounded, taking blaster shots as they advanced closer to her. She knew she would die, she knew that no one, that he, would not make it to her in time. But still… She fought. And for the first time since he had been placed in his new mechanized body… He felt. He felt pain. The burn of blaster fire, of those serrated blade arms rending through flesh. Though the wounds were not his, he felt them, he felt her death as though it were his own. Just as he had before, back when she was being murdered by the Huk.
Ronderu. Ronderu lij Kummar. His partner, his wife, his soulmate . How had he forgotten? She was the very reason he had given up his old name and taken this new one. So that he could grieve her forever. But here he was, for over two years he had forgotten her very existence. Or had it been longer?
In an instant he leapt down from his perch, landing on a few droids but not caring, and held up his hand as a silent order to cease fire. B1s lowered their weapons while Super Battle droids affixed their arms in the standby position. The Jedi was panting, saber held in a defensive stance as she looked up at him, and he stared back. He stepped closer until he was looming over her. Her expression was guarded but curious, could she sense his intent? He would have to ask Count Dooku later… Among other things. “That Jedi,” He spoke finally. “Was he your master?”
She slowly lowered her blade, but only slightly, still not willing to lower her defense completely. “He was.”
“And he left you here to die.” Hearing it outloud seemed to crack her facade for just a moment as the hurt came over her face, but she schooled her expression back.
“Ah suppose this really shouldn’t come as a surprise… But yes.” She admitted, keeping her tone level. The Togruta did not flinch when he brought his face level with hers. She had regarded him with caution before, so this didn't seem to be from a lack of awareness on her part, of the danger that emanated from his very being. Despite her weakened state she looked back at him without fear.
He stared at her for a moment longer. “I give you this one chance, Jedi.” He brought himself back to his full height. “Leave and do not speak of this encounter or my very existence to anyone.” Part of him recoiled at showing a Jedi mercy like this, but… She had given him a great gift, and cutting her down now would taint it. “So walk away from this and you will live, at least until we meet again.” Her expression was more open now, looking at him thoughtfully.
A memory resurfaced, his first meeting with Ronderu. He had gone out to hunt a mumuu, but instead found himself on the other end of her blade, only just able to avoid a killing blow. It was far from an ideal first meeting. After she had laughed off his attempt to recruit her to fight against the Huk he had snapped back at her. She had given him a similar, thoughtful expression as this woman was right now.
“Ah’ll take that offer,” She said finally, a small, tired smile on her face that he knew hid sharp teeth. “But if Ah may offer a suggestion in regards ta mah Master,” She watched as he tilted his head at her audacity. “In the case anyone was ta ask why Ah fell back, it may be a good idea ta destroy his comms beyond the point of retrieving data.” The padawan lifted a wrist to show that her own commlink had taken a blaster bolt already.
“So you would not be caught in a lie.” He finished the thought for her. “Very well, your master dies today,” He turned back at the droids waiting idly by, he saw some of the B1s turn their heads towards the others. “Feel free to destroy these at your leisure.”
“What?!” A single B1 exclaimed before he smacked its head off its skinny neck.
“Happy huntin'. ...An' thank you." She said, giving him another smile that he purposefully ignored. He turned towards where the Besalisk had escaped, scaling the wall with ease and darting through the passageway as he heard a lightsaber ignite from the chasm he left behind and metal begin to hit the ground. Whether she made it out of the catacombs alive or not wasn’t his concern, he had done his part, and now they were destroying the others incriminating evidence. While it was unlikely that anyone would check them for intel he had learned quickly that this newer model of foot soldiers had surprisingly loose lips for not having any. The General couldn't have them talking about this, even amongst themselves, for fear his superiors would learn of his failure to cut down any that saw him. He was, after all, to be kept a secret, for now. He was told that he would be able to reveal himself to the enemy when the time was right.
He kept his enhanced hearing open for the telltale hum of four sabers, following the occasional carnage of Geinosians and droids. He continued to move onward until he heard it, the hum of four lightsabers. They hummed in unison, in a way singular sabers did not. He stopped, holding his hand up for his Magna Guard that had been dutifully following behind him. They stopped and waited, allowing him to direct them with only hand gestures. They followed them obediently, moving into position to flank the Jedi as he went to meet him. The Besalisk had been in the midst of slicing apart a Genosian when he turned to meet him. “What kind of droid have they sent me to destroy now?” He asked, the smugness in his voice was palpable.
“I am no droid.” Grievous said, straightening up to his full height yet again and sweeping his cape open. The Jedi was momentarily distracted by the motion as the cyborg grabbed two of his newest weapons. “You will not be leaving these catacombs.” He ignited the blades and took his opening stance in Makashi. “Come at me, Jedi scum.”
The Jedi narrowed his eyes and took his own stance, one that Grievous recognized as Ataru, a more aggressive style but one that relied heavily on acrobatics. “So they taught a machine to fight like a Jedi? Is this what the Sith have turned to?” The Jedi didn’t waste more time talking, instead leaping at him and swinging his sabers down at him. But to his shock the large droid didn’t counter with Makashi, instead it had seamlessly switched to Soresu, stopping his attack dead and pushing him back. “I see you can’t stick to a single form, what a lack of discipline.” The next volley of attacks came in the form of Juyo, the slashes were quick, strong, and nigh unpredictable. Much like the droid itself.
Grievous did not speak, only continuing his onslaught as he let the Jedi continue to hurl insults. Dooku always spoke of the importance of keeping one's cool in the heat of battle. But he preferred to let his rage and hate fuel him, it sharpened his focus to a fine point. It had always served him well, especially now that he could truly remember what he had lost. What the Huk had taken from him, and what the Jedi had let them get away with. Grievous made a simple gesture as the Jedi lunged toward him. Mid leap the Besalisk was overwhelmed by three Magna Guard, while he managed to block two of them but the third landed an attack on his back.
Was it dishonorable? Yes. But this scum did not deserve honor, not after leaving his student to die without any hesitation. Were he still capable of it Grievous would have smirked at the display, his Magna Guard keeping the Jedi on his toes but not allowing him enough space to utilize Ataru. The droids were tireless, even as the Jedi damaged them they continued their assault until one of them got in behind him and drove their electro staff into his back, bringing him to his knees. He attempted to get back up but a large, clawed foot stomped down on the fresh wound, slamming him down into the ground.
“Where is that self righteousness, Jedi?” Grievous dug his claws into the Besalisk’s flesh, the brown tunic starting to turn dark under his claws. “Make peace with the Force now, for I’m sending you to it.” He said, taking his foot off his back and placing it on the back of the Jedi’s head. Without any further pomp and circumstance he put the full weight of his cybernetic body down on his skull, crushing it. This Jedi may have fought like a warrior but that was where it ended, he had no sense of honor, and so the cyborg made sure that he did not receive a warriors death. Grievous picked up the two double bladed lightsabers with mixed feelings. They were unique trophies, but so much as holding them made him feel dirtied by this Jedi. He may not use them, but they would still make for fine additions to his new collection.
Stashing the lightsabers in his cape, he had one last thing to do. He searched the corpse and found the Jedi's commlink, Grievous looked to the nearest Magna Guard and held out his hand. Silently the droid handed over its staff, which Grievous proceeded to crush and then fry it. “General,” a B1 battle droid’s voice came over his comms and he sighed.
“What is it?” He asked.
“The Jedi and their army are moving away from our location, Count Dooku wants the Separatist leaders moved immediately.” At least this one knew to be brief.
He was already going back towards the inner chamber that the Separatist leaders were being kept in. “Very well. I’ll be along shortly.” He said. “Grievous out.”
“Roger roger.”
Grievous stood before a wall of transparasteel, arms held behind his back as he stared off into space. He didn’t bother to sit, his mind was racing, trying to piece fractured memories back together. How long had he known Ronderu before her death? Several years, far too short compared to how much she meant to him. They had been married, only for a few short years, but he held them close to his heart like they were all that mattered in the galaxy. But there was more, there had to be. It felt so… Incomplete. He grasped at the whisps of memory, but they slipped through his fingers with each desperate grab.
What was he missing? Would it come back to him naturally or would he need an outside source to bring each and every piece back into frame? If it was the latter he may never recall his lost life. Grievous sighed, shaking his head and finally breaking his staring match with the void.
Perhaps it would be better to focus on what he could remember than what he couldn’t. He remembered her death, how he’d tried desperately to retrieve her body. He’d never found her. But he had found something… Her cape, it was the only thing that washed up on the beach. But that wasn’t all, no… Her lig swords and mask had been left at the site of her murder. The latter was cracked, but he had kept it. Kept them all. It was all he had left of her.
Except… That didn’t feel right. What did he have aside from those items that were hers? She had lived a fairly spartan lifestyle before they met, that he remembered. Aside from those items and some clothes there shouldn’t have been anything else. So why did it feel like there was? It was maddening and he was tempted to slam his fist into the nearest surface.
Instead he sat down cross legged and closed his eyes. He didn’t have to focus on his breathing, the machines did it for him now. That thought made his stomach churn, but he tried to push it aside. He needed to stay focused, or this would drive him mad. Perhaps it wasn’t a ‘what’ that he had left of her. But she didn’t have any family, she was clanless, of that he was sure. The cape, swords, and mask flashed across his mind again. What had he done with those? He was sure that he had them set in a small shrine for her in leu of an actual burial, but… He’d done something else with them. They were in good hands, hands that could keep her legacy alive.
It was then that it struck him. So suddenly that his eyes snapped open and he jolted up.
Children. They’d had children. That's what he had left of her. The cape, the swords, and the mask had been split among their three pups.
Kym, their eldest, so much like her mother but he was sure she’d become an even better sniper than he had ever been. Zaebar, her twin brother. He had his father's strategic mind, but possessed a calm and gentleness that honestly had Grievous stumped. He certainly hadn’t gotten it from either of them. And then there was Tima. She had been an odd child, with her fascination with droids and technology as a whole, but just as loved as her siblings. She was straightforward, honest to a fault, and almost always chipper.
Grievous collapsed down to his knees, claws digging into the metal floor as the realization crashed over him. He had children, he’d forgotten his own pups. How old were they? Where were they now? Were they safe? Did they even know he was alive? Would they even care? If he was still capable of producing tears he very well may have then and there. Another floodgate had opened, but it only served to make him feel worse.
There were more children too. And he’d had other wives. He’d forgotten all of them. How did this happen? The pain started to ebb and soon fury took it’s place. Grievous slammed his fist into the ground and when that did nothing to make his anger dissipate he turned on the rest of the room, destroying every fixture in his way. Finally, when he was surrounded by debris did the anger fade and leave him feeling empty.
He needed answers but he would be careful about it for now. He was going to find out what happened, why he’d lost his memory. And he was going to make the perpetrators pay . His head felt fuzzy again but he powered through it, whether he knew it or not he had something to hold onto through it.
For now he had other business to attend to. He finally had the power to deliver justice to those damned bugs. He would watch Yam'Ryn burn for their crimes. This time nothing would stop him; not the Republic, not the Jedi, not even Count Dooku and Lord Sidious.