Originally posted by Zampanó
All of my homeworks are supes interesting.
Veriform's ROTS rewrite
Windu did not move quickly. Instead, he moved perfectly. Anakin rushed him, full of confusion, hurt, and anger at himself, at Palpatine, at the Order. The bald, dark-skinned Jedi tripped the younger man in passing, spun, and slammed a fist into the back of his skull. Anakin dropped like a sack of wet duracrete and in an instant Windu had his lightsaber. Palpatine blocked the first cut, dodged the second, and jerked back from the third with an inch to spare. The bridge of his nose blistered as azure death swept over his face.Then, from perfection: chaos.
Windu roared. His elegant, sweeping motions became violence incarnate. His stolen lightsaber carved the air, crackling, and Palpatine scrambled back from the vicious onslaught, out into the antechamber. Windu slashed the door from its hinges. Palpatine blocked an overhead cut that would have opened him from sternum to groin, snarling with exertion as Windu bore down on him, his face a mask of purposeful rage. He's strong. Another blow nearly drove the Chancellor to his knees.
He had never truly considered the possibility that he would die in combat. Even now, as he fought a desperate retreat back into his office, blue wildfire raging all around him, it seemed a remote possibility. Death by the sword was the warrior's provenance, and while he'd made sure he knew enough to wade into red slaughter when called for, Darth Sidious was no warrior. He was a scholar, a statesman, a dragon coiled in manskin whispering poisoned truths to any who would listen. The idea of his life's meteoric trajectory ending with his body spitted by a lightsaber was laughable.
Windu beat him back. Silent and tempestuous, the taller man hacked at Sidious's elegant defenses until he was sweating and bone-tired. The blade drew closer, scorching brocade, burning hair. Sidious cried out in frustrated anger. With a gesture he raised debris up from the floor in a battering storm. Chunks of bronzium, stone, and boma wood whirled around the two men as they dueled. Windu's focus kept the worst of the whirlwind clear, but spinning shards of shrapnel left bloody slashes across his face, his arms, his chest. Windu moved through the storm like a swimmer through clear water. The wreckage of the desk flew at him and he hacked through it, detonating its remainder with a blast of Force energy. A hundred-pound slab of treated wood smashed through the window and high-altitude winds whipped through the office.
Palpatine raged, shrieking with every thrust and cut.
The galaxy had ripped itself apart at his command. Jedi had died. Kings, emperors, margravines, slavers, revolutionaries, and politicians. Whole worlds had burned beneath his uncaring gaze, sacrifices to the greater good that was the reborn Sith Imperium. Peace, prosperity, a hand on the tiller whose owner knew not just the currents of the senate but of the future and the past. Divine reign.
Gods did not die in duels.
Windu's foot connected with the base of his jaw. He staggered back, spitting up blood, and tripped over one of his upended sculptures. The room spun crazily as he slammed to the floor at the window's edge, glass lacerating his palms. He twisted, whipping his lightsaber around to block Windu's overhand slash, but the Jedi disarmed him with artless ease and Palpatine watched in numb horror as his lightsaber flew out into the tearing dark of Coruscant's night. Surely, he thought, surely someone will see. Surely the guards are on their way.
He'd expected more from Anakin. The boy was the Force, embodied it in a way even he, Sidious, whose malevolent influence had blinded the galaxy's Jedi for decades, did not. He was a black hole, sucking at the Force like a hungry beast, worrying at its edges, fraying its weave with jagged teeth, but Anakin was a font of raw might, a titan among callow boys. Now he lay sprawled on the floor amidst the blood and broken glass, as glorious as shit on a boot-heel. After all I gave him. Fury flexed its cankered limbs, fingers squeezing Sidious's heart. All I did for that ungrateful child.
Mace raised Anakin's lightsaber. "Surrender." His voice smoked. It cracked the air like the tolling of some great, broken bell.
Sidious laughed through his mask of blood. "So I can stand trial in some puppet court?" He pushed himself up onto his elbows. "I made this Republic what it is. I undid what generations of Jedi meddling had done to the galaxy. I brought them all together, the billion races, united in war, erasing their divisions in blood and fire.
"Without me this galaxy will crumble into dust."
"You're only a man," said Windu, and there was no more anger in him. The laugh lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes were dark in the shifting shadows of the windblown office. The lightsaber's point dropped half an inch, and Palpatine saw his chance.
Hate was his fuel, and it burned like tainted iridium as he flung his hands up and let the Dark Side rage out of him. His nerves lit up with white-hot brilliance, and the entire office jittered and shook with shadows between blue-white flashes of lightning as agonizing bolts arced and crackled from Palpatine's fingers to Windu. The Jedi cried out in pain, his soul and skin scathed by rotten loathing, but he kept a tight hold on Anakin's lightsaber, and with a twist he interposed it between Palpatine's onslaught and himself.
And then the real agony began.
Hot damn that's good.
Originally posted by Zampanó2. It is impossible to be racist against white people.
It is impossible to be racist against white people.It is impossible to be racist against white people.
to be racist against white people.
It is impossible to be racist against white people.
It is impossible to be racist against white people.
It is impossible to be racist against white people.
It is [b]impossibleIt is impossible to be racist against white people. [/B]
False. Only a Sith deals in Absolutes anyway.