#yes i know they had a small marionette arc (or whatever you wanna call it) in the anime but

[nazurabbit]

the day they announce marionette anime is the day i literally die

[theimaginator-omniworld]

Grievous (edit)

The black-and-grey Nu-class attack shuttle dropped out of hyperspace, its destination just ahead: an old surveillance base constructed in an asteroid in an attempt to be hidden from plain sight. Despite the fact that the asteroid field was itself scarcely occupied by any sentient beings, the metal pieces and sensory equipment jutting out from the sides betrayed the stealthy intention.

“The outpost is straight ahead, General,” the pilot announced over the intercom.

“Thank you, A.V.,” the Jedi Master replied. Bahsé Sigré stood from his seat in the back of the shuttle, running an armored hand down his scruffy goatee. “So, this is where the distress calls have come from,” he muttered to himself, lightly tossing his helmet up in his other hand. “I sense something… familiar about this place,” he said aloud to his Shadow Squad. “I already don’t like this place. It’s too…”

“Quiet? Eerie? Creepy as all get-out?” Boomer asked, the jet trooper shouldering his EMP blaster.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Bahsé agreed. He looked over to Kuma, his Nelvaanian Padawan. “What do you sense, Kuma?” he asked in her language. “What can you feel?”

“An evil lurks here,” she replied, closing her round eyes and scrunching her brow. “It feels like a trap… and intent to lure us here and slaughter us.”

“Oh, what a comfort,” Stitch, the medic, muttered. He was one of the clones that learned how to understand her language the fastest. Speaking it was still a bit of a challenge, however. R1, the general’s black, silver-domed, and gold-paneled astromech beeped nervously in the corner.

“Merely an encouragement to stay sharp, R1,” Bahsé said as he donned his helmet, shedding his cloak and letting it fall in a heap behind him. His blue-and-black armor glinted in the dimly-lit cab, the golden accents shimmering. “Stay cheeky and stay sneaky, boys,” he said.

“Sir!” they said in unison. The Shadow Shuttle touched down inside the main hangar. Surprisingly, the outpost still had power; the life support systems still maintained the inside of the area. The door of the shuttle lowered, allowing the group to step outside and survey the area.

Two Jedi fighters flanked them, inoperative and lifeless; the starships that carried the Jedi who came before them. One’s astromech was still in its compartment. Or at least what was left of it. The dome had been blasted and torn apart, bits and pieces of circuitry and motors scattered around it. R1 chittered sadly, rolling over to the dead astromech and letting out a low, sad sound.

“Whatever or whoever did this left no witnesses,” Foxx, the scout of the team, muttered. “No one to report back their findings or call for help. Dauntingly thorough.”

“Gives me the impression I don’t wanna meet them, whoever they are,” the commander said. Kinn looked to Bahsé and drew his pistols. “Either that or they don’t wanna meet us. How do we go about this, General?”

The Jedi checked his right gauntlet, pushing a sequence of buttons. A small holo-map projected from the forearm, displaying the layout of the base. A small trail of tunnels and halls took up the majority of the map, with large rooms dotting the edges of the base. A faint dot pulsed at the top of the outpost. The distress beacon.

“This is the source of the call,” the Sentinel said, pointing at the faint dot. His finger drifted down the image, stopping halfway down. “This is where we are.” A larger dot indicated their position. “If there are any survivors, they may be in one of these rooms. We need to find and rescue them. Stick together so we’re not picked apart.”

“And if it’s a trap?” Kinn asked. “If no one else is here alive and we’re walking in there to join them in death?”

“Kinn, my friend, it’s obviously a trap,” Bahsé said, the holo-map fading out as he lowered his arm. “That’s why we were sent here; to spring and foil it. We’ve done so before, back on… Felucia…” He suddenly went rigid, as did the rest of the clones. Kuma looked among them, one eyebrow raised in confusion.

“What?” she asked, her Basic coming heavily accented. “What happened on Felucia?”

“Grievous,” Bahsé said, his armored fist clenching tight. The ARC trooper named Mack, clad in brown-marked armor, put a hand to the center of his chest where his scar remained from their previous encounter.

“Been looking forward to giving him some payback,” he growled.

“Be on the lookout for assassin probes,” Bahsé said as he started walking forward, grabbing the double-bladed lightsaber hilt from his back and the handguarded one off his right hip. “If you hear or see anything that sounds like rapid metal legs clinking in the dark, shoot to kill.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Or run like hell, whichever works for you,” he added. The Squad and Kuma followed behind, while R1 rolled back into the Shuttle, beeping and squawking at Bahsé. “Be my guest,” he called back, and the droid rolled right to the back of the Shuttle, closing the door behind him.

 ************************

 The Jedi Master, the Padawan, and the grey-armored clones slowly made their way up the levels of the base, through halls of flickering and demolished lights on the ceilings. One flickered ominously at the end of a long hallway. Bahsé kept an eye on the it as he opened a door, his helmet light coming on as he swept the room. “Clear,” he reported, moving down the hall to the next room.

Kinn and Mack opened another door, aiming their blasters inside and sweeping the area, careful not to let anything catch them by surprise. Apparently, they weren’t careful enough.

“Boss!” Mack called. The towering Jedi was behind them in seconds, the young Nelvaanian and the rest of their men following just behind. The room was littered with droid parts, clearly sliced apart by a lightsaber. The source of the mess was soon discovered; a Kajain'sa'Nikto lay slumped against the opposite wall, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging agape. Bahsé stepped between the two ARC troopers and knelt down to him, putting a hand to his shoulder and checking for any vitals.

“Dead,” he said quietly. He looked down. The Jedi’s robes were cloven in four on either side of him and over his legs, as if they were cut in an ‘X’ pattern, with two smaller holes piercing either pectoral. Lightsaber burns. “This is definitely another trap set by Grievous,” he said, standing abruptly and slinging the deceased Jedi over his shoulder, stashing the fallen Jedi’s lightsaber inside the storage compartment on the side of his boot. “We’ve determined what we needed to,” he said, walking towards the door. “We’re leaving.”

“Yeah, I hear that,” Gidget said distantly, his gaze fixed at the flickering light down the hall. Bahsé peered at him and turned his head as he leaned out the doorway. Foxx, Clipper, and the jet trooper twins were gazing in the same direction, Clipper’s sniper rifle leveled at the end of the hall.

“What is it?” Bahsé asked, peering down the hall and stepping out of the room. The three ARC troopers and Stitch turned and followed their gaze, as did Kuma. The Nelvaanian’s fur suddenly stood on end, her ears perking up and forward.

“Master?” she whispered. Bahsé looked back to her and then down the hallway, jolting as he saw what everyone was looking at. The light had been out when he was looking, but now it flickered back to life, giving him his answer.

“Have I ever told you guys how much I hate deja vu?” he asked aloud.

The other missing Jedi was at the other end of the hallway… hanging limply in the air, suspended by two thin appendages. The hanging head suddenly snapped up at them, causing everyone within eyesight to grimace harshly.

“Okay, that’s just wrong on so many levels!” Boomer said, shuddering.

“It is alright,” a warbled voice crooned at them. It sent shivers up even Bahsé’s spine, and Kuma’s fur was standing up on every inch of her body, her hands clenched tightly around her lightsabers. The voice matched the corpse, but the mouth did not move, nor did the glazed eyes. A hand slowly rose and motioned them closer. “There is no need to worry,” the voice said again, the head falling back limply. “Everything is juzzzzt fiiinnnnne…”

Red orbs suddenly illuminated behind the puppet Jedi, the metallic body raising above its toy.

“Assassin probe!!” Bahsé bellowed. “Jet troopers, fire!!”

Booster and Boomer leveled their EMP blasters and fired, the projectiles soaring down the hall and bursting as they hit their mark. The droid let out a horrific squeal, a blood-curdling mix of its own noises and the mock voice it possessed from its victim. Its eyes flashed wildly as it went limp and crumpled to the floor.

“Do we really need to go get the body for any kind of–” Stitch began to ask.

“Nope!” Bahsé interjected.

“Okay then, thank you for considering our sanity.”

“No problem,” the Jedi said, still frozen at the sight before him. He turned to Kuma, and gently set the un-desecrated Jedi down. Her eyes were wide with sheer terror, and her ears stayed perked, but her entire body was trembling. “Kuma?” he asked softly, kneeling down in front of her and gently putting her hands on her shoulders.

“Young one? Kuma, look at me. Kuma, sweetheart?” He took his helmet off so she could see his aquamarine eyes, soft with empathy and concern. “It’s over now, it’s okay,” he said softly. “I’m right here, we’re right here.” “That thing… was using her like a marionette,” she whispered, her voice merely a squeak as her gaze stay locked on the horror.

“I know,” Bahsé said, cupping her cheek and turning her head to him. “I know. We can leave if you want to. Do you want to go back?”

She stayed still for a moment, shaking in fear before tears came to the corner of her eyes. She fought them back, as she was trained to do when she first came to the Temple before becoming his Padawan. She nodded slowly.

“Yes,” she finally whispered. Bahsé gently pulled her into a hug, holding the back of her head. He let her go and stood up, grabbing his helmet.

“Come,” he said. “We got what we came for–” His head snapped up, his gaze locking forward. Kinn looked at him and followed his gaze, aiming his pistols down the way they had come.

“General?” he asked. “What is it?”

A sound in the dark. Metal legs clinking on hard surfaces echoed down the hall. First one set. Then another. More and more.

A red glow down the way.

“Shadow Squad,” Bahsé said slowly, donning his helmet and slowly reaching for his lightsabers. “You remember Felucia?”

“All too well,” Mack said, stepping towards Kuma. “We didn’t let Patches die there, and we’re not gonna let Kuma die here.”

“I appreciate you saying that, but you know what I want you to do more than anything at this point?” the Sentinel asked.

“Run for our lives?” Foxx questioned.

“Yep.”

The sounds of droids roared behind them as they fled down the hallway, Kuma keeping close to Bahsé at all times. Assassin probes sprang from their hiding places in the walls and behind obstructions, but never even had a chance to strike as Bahsé and Kuma tore them to shreds with their lightsabers. Flashes of green dominated the halls as Kuma twirled her blades with grace and precision, even as fear wracked every bone in her body. Blue and green blades accompanied hers, emitting from Bahsé’s saberstaff as they cut down droids one after another. The low reverberating hum of his crystalline gold-and-silver blade added to the sounds of the halls as probe after probe fell around them, flashes of blue leaping down the walls as the Shadow Squad fired all around them.

Kinn caught sight of the red orbs above Kuma before either Jedi did. “Look out!” he bellowed as he tackled her away, knocking her, Mack, Stitch, and Boomer down a separate hall with him, the group falling like dominoes.

“Master!!” Kuma cried out as the two ARC troopers lifted her to her feet.

“Get to the Shuttle!” Bahsé hollered over his shoulder, aiming his left gauntlet down their way and firing the mounted blaster, nailing a probe in the central eye as it turned to chase them. “I’ll meet you there, I promise!” He turned to Ripper. “Lay down covering fire!”

“Time to rip and run,” the ARC captain said as he turned, aiming his Z-6 rotary and letting loose a stream of blaster fire, cutting the mechanical nightmares down between the two groups.

“Come on, run!!” Kinn barked as he fired, leading the way down their hallway. They turned left at the end of the hallway, flew down a flight of stairs, and then kept running straight down the hall, until…

“Hold up,” the ARC commander said, raising a hand and shuffling his feet to a stop. The others stopped next to him, looking at him as if he were crazy. “You hear that?” he asked.

Kuma perked an ear up and listened hard. Her eyes widened as she looked at him. “They no longer follow,” she said in Basic.

“That’s good, right?” Boomer asked. “We lost them?”

“Well, y’know,” Stitch said, shrugging. “Either we lost them or they stopped chasing us to let their boss finish us off.” He stood stock still when everyone turned back to him and froze.

“Just nailed it right on the head, didn’t I?” he asked.

“Yep,” Boomer said.

“He’s right behind me?”

“Mm-hmm,” Mack hummed, nodding as he slowly brought his WESTAR up.

“Right.” Stitch turned slowly around to find himself staring into the familiar yellow eyes of the freak of mechanics and nature that had nearly killed a friend of theirs the last time they met. “Hello,” he said nervously.

“Goodbye,” the gravelly voice snarled as two lightsabers ignited at his sides and swung. The blades swept empty air as Stitch was pulled back to the group by Kuma, her green lightsabers poised as she stepped in front of her men.

“Ah, another Jedi learner,” Grievous said slowly as he drew up to his full height, towering over them. “You are not my first Padawan victim, and I will certainly enjoy adding you to my trophy list.” The blades swung forward in a blur, but Kuma was just as fast, catching them and locking them in front of her. “You are the armored Sentinel’s new pet, aren’t you?” he asked. “The other one before you was a bit of a challenge, but you… you seem a little more timid. Did my probes frighten you, young one?” he chuckled as he pressed forward, sliding Kuma back a little. “Allow me to take you out of your… huh?” He raised his head, peering around in the dark.

The clones had disappeared.

“You would leave her to die?” he called out, his left leg coming up to clamp around her throat. He turned and flung her down the hallway, laughing and coughing as she whimpered when she hit the hard floor.

“No,” a deep voice said, echoing in the hallway. Grievous turned around, swinging his saber to light up the hall. “You seem to have forgotten who we are, General,” Kinn’s voice echoed. The droid general turned to see a barrel in his face.

“We’re the Shadow Squad. The darkness is kind of our thing.” Kinn fired his pistol, but the general had moved quicker, dodging the blast and knocking him aside. Mack and Boomer fired next, the EMP burst just barely missing the general’s leg as a few shots from Mack’s WESTAR pelted the shoulder armor.

Grievous snarled as he somersaulted, landed on his hands, and kicked them away, knocking them into the wall. “I have not forgotten you,” he growled. “Especially the way you took my legs out last time.” His foot shot back and grabbed an advancing Stitch by the helmet, dragging him around and chucking him next to Kinn, the force knocking the wind out of them. “But this time, I will have my prize!” He brought his arm back and swung at Kuma, the young Nelvaanian closing her eyes to brace for the burn of the saber and the swift death that followed.

It never came.

She opened her eyes and screamed as she looked at the body beside her. Kinn had dived forward to protect her, and now there was a smoldering gash in his armor, his own WESTAR cloven in two and lying next to his unmoving form. She looked up at the monster with fear and anger in her eyes.

“Prepare to join your friend,” Grievous growled as he raised his other saber.

“HEY!!”

The voice was so loud and so sudden that even Grievous jumped. He looked up to see a familiar Jedi standing in front of him, a large hole recently cut into the wall. The rest of the Squad stood behind him, their blasters leveled at the droid general.

“Step. Away. From my. Little. Girl,” Bahsé growled, his voice low and deep. It sent shivers down Kuma’s spine, but the feeling was suddenly lifted when she registered what he had just called her.

“The Sentinel,” Grievous chuckled. “We meet agai–” he grunted as he was hurled back down the hall with the Force.

“Get to the shuttle,” Bahsé said lowly, stalking towards his new throwing toy. Kuma stowed her sabers and lifted Kinn up with the help of Stitch and Mack.

“Kick his metal hide to Mustafar, boss!” the ARC captain in brown hollered over his shoulder as they made their way through the hole.

“You can try,” Grievous snarled, unlatching his arms and twirling his four blades. “But you will merely be a–”

“Let me make something perfectly clear,” Bahsé interrupted, igniting his yellow knife-bladed saber and his crystalline one. “You will never look at, much less think about, any of us ever again. You will never come within eighty parsecs of me or my family again. And I’m going to make sure you remember that right now.”

***********************

A.V. and Gunny stood in the entrance of the shuttle, their blasters in their hands and scanning the area. R1 stood between them, his dome and scanners pivoting as he searched for life forms. Several of them were coming their way, and his dome halted in a forward position, squawking hopefully.

“Get that shuttle prepped for takeoff!” Mack bellowed as they came into eyesight. The pilot and gunner relaxed for a moment before heading back to their seats, A.V. raising up into the cockpit first.

“Where’s the general?” Gunny asked before ascending.

As if on cue, the rock wall on the east side of the hangar burst apart, and General Grievous came tumbling through, coughing violently.

“That’s…not the one I meant,” the gunner said, an eyebrow raising beneath his helmet.

Bahsé stepped through the hole, an eerie calm in his stride.

“Ah, that’s the one,” the clone said, punching the button to ascend. “Looks just peachy to me, I’ll be up here, thanks.”

Grievous looked up to see the Shadow Squad boarding the shuttle and scrambled at them, his six appendages clacking along the ground. He didn’t get five feet before he was flung back into the wall above the main entrance tunnel. Bahsé had dashed forward, clenched his hand around the Jedi hunter’s foot, and hurled him back, the wall cracking from the force of the impact. Grievous staggered to his feet, snarling as he spun his lightsabers wildly and advanced, growling as he swung at the Jedi Sentinel.

Bahsé sidestepped to his right, avoiding the two green blurs of light, and then swung his yellow saber up, slicing the two right arms off of his foe. What he didn’t plan for, however, was the opening he gave to Grievous’s left arms. The droid general cackled as he took his chance, plunging his lightsabers forward.

They bounced harmlessly off the Jedi’s back.

Bahsé turned around to look at the sabers that had just attempted to skewer him, and then into the wide yellow eyes of Grievous.

“Forgot I had phrik armor, didn’t you?” he asked casually.

“Unfortunately,” Grievous said slowly.

“Well, that happens,” Bahsé admitted. He abruptly put his lightsabers on his belt, causing the droid general to draw his head up and back in confusion. Before he could blink, the Sentinel drew his right fist back and drove it forward, the black phrik glove smashing into the ivory-colored faceplate of the infamous Jedi slaughterer, a spiderweb of cracks spreading from the point of impact. Grievous stumbled back and fell, his arms rising up to shield himself.

The crystalline blade ignited again, both of Bahsé’s hands gripping it tightly.

“After all this time, after all the Jedi you’ve hunted, slaughtered, and murdered for sport,” Bahsé said lowly, drawing the saber to his side and leveling it, poising it to strike.

“It ends here.” The blade plunged forward.

A red blaster bolt knocked the blade away, allowing the crippled metal form to plant one foot on his enemy’s abdomen and push, throwing him back to the Shadow Shuttle. Bahsé landed on his hands, pushed off, and landed on his feet, the armored boots clanking against the ramp of the shuttle. Dozens of probes had appeared out of nowhere, swarming the hangar and cutting the two generals off from each other.

“Get us out of here!” Bahsé bellowed, stepping in as the door raised shut. The shuttle lifted off, turned, and burst out of the hangar, a few unfortunate droids attempting to hitch a ride getting incinerated in the sudden burst of fire. The craft reached open space, and A.V. engaged the hyperdrive, jumping the Shuttle to lightspeed and heading back to Coruscant.

“Well,” Ripper huffed, plopping down in a seat. “That went well.”

“How’s Kinn?” Bahsé asked.

“Stable,” Stitch reported. “Thankfully his rifle took the brunt of it. The scar’s deep, though, but he was throwing himself in between Grievous and Kuma like a heroic imbecile at such a speed that it didn’t hit anything vital. Missed his spine by millimeters. It’s going to burn like the core of Mustafar, though, so we should get him in the bacta tank.” The medic went over to the rear wall, pressing a hidden panel and stepping back as the seats folded up and the wall slid up with a hiss to reveal a one-person bacta tank that Gidget and Bahsé had installed for just such occasions. Within minutes, Kinn was stripped of his armor and bodysuit and inserted into the tank, the gel beginning to heal the cut as much as possible.

Kuma walked over and put a hand on the glass of the tank. “Köszönöm,” she said softly, whispering a few other words in her mother tongue.

“What’s that?” Foxx asked quizzically.

“Thank you,” Bahsé told him. “She’s thanking him in her own language.” He took his helmet off and gently put a hand on his Padawan’s shoulder. She looked up at him and hugged him, her arms wrapping around his middle.

“Köszönöm, Apu,” she whimpered as she shook, tears coming to her eyes. Bahsé stood there, blushing as he looked down at her.

“Alright, we got the first one, what was the second?” Clipper asked.

“Father,” Stitch said, smiling warmly as he and his brothers watched their general slowly wrap his larger arms around the crying young Nelvaanian. “She called him father…”