Chapter 1

Reborn

"Ugh...Ouch."

Anakin groaned painfully as he tried to sit up straight. Somehow he didn't have any robes or suits or prosthetic arm on him. He was lying in an alley, naked and afraid. It was hard to tell what sent him to this place he has never been before, but he sure wasn't too interested to find out.

He knew no purpose to be still alive in whatever this place might be, but he still remembered every minute of his last life, and how he had a very unhealthy family because of his lust of power. Now born with nothing, he vowed never to make the same mistake again.

But first thing first. I need some clothes.

He never wanted to steal, but right now his options were limited. So with no other choice he headed outside, where the streets were empty and the sky was dark, and tried to find a crate specified for recycling clothes, a common trait that helps preventing people in the galaxy from creating excessive waste.

The only thing he could find that'll cover him was the lid of a trash can concealed well in the alley. And as he moved on a scent of blood suddenly caught his attention. Without hesitating he hurried to find the origin of the odour, and within minutes his work has paid off when he came across a fresh body with holes punched on it. Apparently he hasn't been paying his debts on time, and someone got upset enough to send a hit crew to tie up loose ends.

Anakin glanced around, and picked up the black leather jacket and worn jeans from the dead body in front of him. His new clothes were still smeared in red and purple, with some grooves of the knee of his pair of jeans, but he couldn't care less about the insignificant flaw, not when he has nothing else to wear.

Soon he was able to stroll on the street with his new findings without having pairs of eyes gazing at him. The dark jedi glanced at the old-fashioned clock hanging above a toy store by the road, and continued down the avenue towards, unknown to him, Central Park of the city of New York.

The following day...

Anakin opened his eyes and scanned the grassy area surrounding him. The sky was now glowing in a faint yellow and early birds were already at the park for a morning jog. He lifted himself up from the wooden bench he fell asleep on, and slowly made his way out of the park as he thought of what exactly to do in this unfamiliar world he doesn't remember conquering at all.

But as much as he was hazy about the place he was in, he was quite certain about why he was here to begin with. During the Galactic Civil war he had led countless genocide operations and had brutally ended the lives of unarmed good men and women without even the blink of an eye. Sins too much to atone for. Now, as the will of the Force has stated during his long sleep, he must pay for what he's done, in this mysterious place.

It wasn't like he was close to any place where a regular nine-to-fiver usually works. And so he decided the best thing to do for now was to move on the same direction he was heading last night, and hope his new life would be less blurry ahead.

He was approaching Times Square from Rockefeller centre when a box van screeched past him. He instinctively retreated from the asphalt and off the edge of the pavement, and simply ignored the van that nearly sent him to a trip to the medical centre at Polis Massa. But that was until he heard the sounds of muffled screams coming from around two blocks away, followed by a series of fireballs erupting into the air.

Anakin couldn't help rushing to the explosion upon seeing bits of wreckage flying up into the air. People were rushing and passing by him at an opposite direction, ignoring that he's in fact heading the wrong direction. He soon caught sight of what he has already been anticipating: a squad of gunmen shouting in a native language, or so it seems, just as the Force has warned him about.

The people terrorising civilians like the Force mentioned. No problem.

The only issue obstructing him right now was he unwillingness to ever use his inside powers ever again, especially what he has already done with this seemingly limitless superpower for absolute evil. There was no way he could go with it, and he wasn't about to think of anything that might change his mind right now. As a result, the reckless Anakin decided he was going to stick with his bare hands until he come across some weapon more powerful than that.

He cautiously huddled behind a sedan parked just between him and a rearguard gunman, allowing him to get up close to the unsuspecting criminal. And before he knew it, his neck was gripped tightly by Anakin, resulting in his inevitable death.

"Wait, who was that? Fire!" The gunners shouted frantically and turned around to repel their attacker, but with his force abilities he couldn't wipe away Anakin was quicker than his foes, and easily dodged their attacks. Those ammunition they use are quite a problem, though. Hell, it used to be so simple to fight them.

Without a lightsaber or virtually any weapon, he had to hide behind car from car to keep himself alive long enough to fight the gunmen with Soviet weapons. By then every civilian in the area were either already dead or have escaped to safety of police checkpoints. News feed were scrambling of reports and raw footages of the recent terrorist attack, the one that Anakin's dealing with right now.

Anakin checked his right arm which felt like it was burning after he dealt with another gunner inside an abandoned box truck. He could see red flowing out of his wound, and he hasn't even taken out half of his foes yet. He stared out the open doors of the truck, and lucky for him none of his attackers were in sight...yet.

"Found him!" One of the gunmen who wrapped his head with pieces of cloth shouted upon seeing the wounded Jedi, attracting the attention of the rest scattered around the junction.

"Then what are you waiting for? Finish him!" Again, their leader yelled in a language Anakin couldn't understand.

Seriously? How long was I here? A day?

Both sides were interrupted when another screech came from the distance, followed by the scream of the gunman and the sight of an armoured truck with a shield-like insignia sprayed on its side stopping in front of him. He heard a series of gunshots and shouts next, and soon found himself staring at the gunpoint of not a gunner he encountered earlier, but a well-equipped foot soldier dressed in black with a carbine rifle in his hand.

"Found him." was the last thing he heard before he was shot unconscious by an ICER.