"No, that man was a fool. He got what he deserved. In fact, he deserved even worse," the Emperor replied, finally looking the other man in the eyes. "Remember, Lord Vader, your anger gives you strength. You demonstrated your power to them. You showed them why you are superior, and why they should fear you." Vader nodded. "Yes, my master."
"Now," his master said, returning to the true subject. "Who are our suspects?"
"Everyone you suspected," Vader replied. "They were onto us the moment I stepped through the door. There's no doubt they trained themselves to build mental walls against powers like mine."
"Trained by existing Jedi?" Sidious asked, sickened by the thought.
It sickened Vader as well. The younger Sith suppressed the growl that nearly escaped his lips at the mention of the Jedi, the statement reminding him of his failure to eradicate their existence completely from the galaxy. He had failed once, but he wouldn't fail again. It was only a matter of time before they were all dead, before they became nothing more than a myth.
"Perhaps," he conceded, setting aside his ego. "It's possible." His master frowned. "So, you didn't gather any information?"
The statement made Vader smile with arrogance. "Of course I did, my master. They were no match for me."
His master smiled, a genuinely hideous and carnivorous grin. "Of course, they aren't my young apprentice."
"Should we take action now?" Vader asked.
"Patience," Sidious ordered. "Patience." He took a few slow steps forward, his hands gesturing toward the younger Sith. "My plan is clear. Tomorrow," he stated. "Tomorrow we act."
Vader nodded. "Yes, my master."
The Emperor's sinister laugh echoed through the Imperial Palace as his apprentice recounted the information he had gleaned from the guests' minds. It was true; despite their fragile hopes, they stood no chance against the young Sith. It would be far too easy to eradicate the Rebellion from the galaxy. It was only a matter of time, but soon… soon they would face their end.
While the two Sith discussed their plans, a handful of senators and delegates lingered in the Imperial Ballroom long after the party had concluded.
Those who stayed dared not to ask Padmé about her actions, but it didn't matter whether they asked out loud or not, because Padmé knew what they thought of her. She was aware that they believed she had been young and foolish. Bail had told her that he considered her brave, but Padmé understood that even within him, there was a part that disagreed, believing she had been foolish.
"Um–Agh," the drunken man stirred, his eyes snapping open as he took in a deep breath. The air surged into his lungs too quickly, slamming against his aching and nearly crushed insides, sending him into a fit of coughing. A young delegate held onto him as the coughs propelled his body forward until he finally caught his breath.
Bail was the next to assist the man; knowing the younger man had sobered up, he leaned down beside him, handing him a glass of water. "Glad to see you coming around," he said. "You're very lucky to be alive."
The man said nothing as he took the glass from Bail and sipped the drink in quick gulps. The large bump on his head was visibly throbbing, and Padmé silently wondered how much of the party he would remember, or if he would recall what she had done for him. She quickly got her answer as his eyes shifted to her after he finished the glass. He breathed heavily, placing the empty glass on the floor before turning to her and reaching for her hand. "I want to thank you for what you did," he whispered, a warmth in his throat. "You saved my life."
Padmé politely pulled her hand away, recognizing his tone of voice, which she knew all too well. "You're welcome…" she paused, unsure of his name.
"Clovis," he said, completing the unspoken part of her sentence. "Rush Clovis."
"You're welcome, Mr. Clovis," Padmé said, managing a polite smile.
"Rush," he corrected swiftly, almost too swiftly. "Call me Rush."
Padmé's smile faded, but she nodded once more, hoping to satisfy the man and finish the interaction. "You're welcome, Rush."
A feeling of awkwardness washed over her as the man continued to stare. No matter how much time passed, he kept his eyes on her. It became so unusual that she started to wonder if he had lost control of his mental faculties or if he was just a pervert ogling her body. Regardless of the reason, she could no longer endure his gaze. Trying to act as normally as possible, she rose from the floor and nodded to Rush.
"I'm glad to hear you're feeling better. It's nice to meet you," she said before turning to her colleagues. "Unfortunately, it's time for me to leave. I'll see you all tomorrow."
The senators nodded their goodbyes to Padmé as her bodyguard approached and led her from the room, but she didn't need to have eyes in the back of her head to know that Rush Clovis was still staring at her. It was something that should have made her feel uneasy, but in reality, it hardly mattered to her at that moment. She didn't care for Rush Clovis—or any other man for that matter. Her mind was too much of a buzz, filled only with one man: the mysterious figure from the party, the man she didn't even know whether he was truly a man at all: Darth Vader.
But her message was not clear to Rush Clovis, as he smiled brightly while watching the retreating senator. His eyes were glued to every part of her body, admiring how the dress fit perfectly on every curve, accentuated her bottom, and moved like skin as she walked away from him.
"Oh yes…" he purred, delighted. "She will be mine."
A thunderous noise erupted, a deathly symphony featuring a stampede of the largest and wildest beasts, yet it was far worse than anything imaginable. The deafening sound struck terror into the hearts and minds of those nearby, leaving them hopelessly watching the storm of white slowly approach and engulf them. It sparked absolute chaos for everyone except one: Darth Vader. To the Sith, it was a pleasant sound—a righteous noise, his perfect battle symphony. From the hovering ship above, he watched as his troopers began to storm the grounds of the Imperial Senate building, marching in sync up the long stone steps and into the grand structure. Their footsteps echoed into the future, signaling the progress that awaited them.
The sight was reminiscent of another pleasant memory conjured in his mind—a time when Darth Vader was first revealed, not so much to the public but to the atrocities known as the Jedi. It was a moment that straddled both the future and the past, even if that milestone came in the dead of night as he led the march. It was finally his time to emerge from hiding and begin the mission his master had trained him for throughout his life. It was hard to believe that only two years had passed since he first led his squadron of troops up those long stone steps. He could still see the horror and betrayal in those fools' eyes as the men they thought were their comrades in war turned their blasters in their direction, finally revealing their true purpose and, at last, their true target.