Without a Mask

(((Rewritten and Revised Version)))

Prologue:

One would think that if you were the most feared man in the galaxy, you would not only have power over every single being in it, but you would have power over yourself.

He was an exception.

On the outside, he was calm and collected, most of the time, that is. The only time in which he wasn't calm and collected was when he lashed out at someone or at himself even…

On the inside, he was a mess. By the time he was nine years old, he'd already seen far too much to retain innocence. He eventually became a good-hearted young man, yes, but not innocent. Never innocent. Never again. Now, he was no longer that young man with a heart of gold that he had once held.

Just before he had turned, he'd been in utter turmoil, both in mind and soul. But now, he was indifferent, his words as cold as the biting wind of an arctic tundra. And those pale blue eyes that had once held such warmth and joy turned steely and cold. His boyhood was long gone.

As he stood on the command deck, he gazed out of the large window that stretched from one side of the Star Dreadnought to the other. The constantly winking stars seemed to be mocking him. Their brightness contrasted greatly with their swirling black background, making them appear brighter.

Dantooine was in full view. It supported beings that were part of the rebellion. He hoped that in crushing this small base that he would be that much closer to his goal.

He hoped one day to relieve himself of his master. You'd think that people would fear their emperor more than their emperor's right hand, but this wasn't the case. The Emperor was a scheming man, very twisted and good at acting as if he was doing all that he did for the greater good. What his master didn't know what that his apprentice was just as good at scheming as he was.

Darth Vader, Admiral of the Galactic Fleet, was a patient man, he could wait, and he would wait as long as it took…