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Will of the Force - Chapter 30
🕑 Added 2025-10-19 23:40:58 +0000 UTCWell, it's been a while, I tried to come back last year, writing a few more chapters for this story and Supergirl, even promised myself I wouldn't disappear again and, instead, depression hit me harder than ever, much harder.
I... made a lot of mistakes in this time, not writing what I loved was perhaps the least of them, but I finally started writing this again, and I hope to continue.
Honestly? I thought about dropping this story (I mean, can I say I didn't drop it after a year without posts? I guess it's just an unannounced hiatus), but in truth, I still deeply love this and Supergirl, so it will have at least a few more chapters, even if I'm very rusty.
I really wish to finish both this and Supergirl, and I'll try, but I honestly won't be giving people a timeline, even before I missed a lot of those, now that I don't have the same time, I'm likely to miss even more.
Saying that, I haven't restarted Supergirl yet, but I already have a lot for Chapter 31 of Will so it's possible it will come in a week, maybe a little more.
For those reading, I hope you all still enjoy it
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The new location was subpar, an abandoned mechanical workshop and warehouse; it had enough space for his goals, but lacked the majority of the equipment and modifications that made the former hideout acceptable.
Disappointing.
Marissa looked around the place, then did her best to move her wheelchair towards a corner, not an easy thing when most of her fingers were still missing, but at least it proved she had resilience.
Anakin just stared at her, causing the woman to flinch and retreat into herself, his anger starting to rise again at the sight of someone even partially responsible for the youngling’s latest wounds.
Turning away, he considered what to do, searching for any distractions. Losing the repulsolift and most of the ship he had been building at the previous workshop was an annoyance; the equipment was probably inside one of the PRT’s warehouses and, while he could recover it, he had no desire to start another confrontation at the moment.
With a glance, he turned on the forge, using Force telekinesis to move a few bars of metal inside while he found a crate of Bakuda’s equipment the ABB had yet to move into his previous location. The wooden container was filled with electronics, from small circuitry to computer parts and precision tools.
In her corner, the woman had enough sense to be quiet, not interrupting his work and doing her best to avoid further drawing his attention.
Grabbing a motherboard with his own hands, he sat down and started tinkering. Creating and modifying equipment was perhaps the only pleasure he had allowed himself after falling to the dark side, and that only because it was also useful.
His own skills vastly surpassed those of anyone he had ever employed and, considering his previous armor, maintaining it was a necessity that even Sidious recognized.
Using the Force almost without thought, he unscrewed the small bolts on a dozen primitive data storage devices, ‘hard disks’ with barely a few gigabytes of memory, harvesting them for parts while using other materials to create an acceptable integrated circuit by hand; those available were far too slow.
Without turning his head, he pulled a bar of metal out of the forge, the material glowing red and perfectly malleable under his power, then he started shaping it, the Force substituting for the lack of tools precise enough for what he required.
Focusing inward, he dove deep into a meditative trance, choosing a semiconductor and using another Force power he had barely touched upon before, a difficult challenge as it was not something he was particularly talented at.
The Art of the Small was an incredibly effective, and rare, Force power, one that even Sidious had only tangentially touched, the ability to use the Force not in grand and overt ways but at the molecular level.
It was not Anakin’s specialty but, with such primitive tools, even the small amount of material he could affect proved invaluable.
Shifting the very atoms of the substance, he changed its nature, transforming the material into something that would require far more advanced equipment than what was available to produce.
For over an hour, he lost himself in his work, the process, the familiar feeling of creating something, letting him relax and center himself better than hours of meditation could.
Connecting the resulting device to his notebook, he downloaded the necessary programming, something he created while working on Dinah’s replacement hand, even if he hoped she’d have no use for it.
“Come,” he ordered the former villainess.
Marissa hesitated, so he simply used the Force to move her wheelchair closer, causing her to release a small yelp, which he ignored.
“Secure the padded sockets to your limbs with the belt, then attach the devices using the magnetic locks,” he told her, handing over the makeshift equipment.
It was a pair of gloves containing substitutes for her missing fingers and two prosthetic feet, each one made to fit the remains of her missing limbs, a makeshift thing reminiscent of a droid.
The prosthetic would be difficult to use and require a cane to allow her to move, at least until the simplistic AI he had created adapted to her body’s movement and learned to make the necessary adjustments, but they were still adequate, and the project had somewhat helped him calm down.
Maybe now he could stop himself from crushing her when studying her power… if only to avoid having lost an hour of work.
The woman first put on her gloves, testing the fingers and seeing them move with rigid twitches, then carefully adjusted her new feet and tried to get up, the movement awkward, her balance failing several times and causing her to fall back on the chair before she managed to take a step.
“Ack,” she cried out, putting a hand on the desk to avoid another crash. “This is harder than I expected.” Holding on to the desk, she lowered herself into the chair again and released a long breath, both her arms and legs shaking from the effort, days of being asleep having taken a toll on her fitness.
“Repeated movements will improve your coordination, the AI is already adapting to you and making adjustments.”
“Wh-What are you doing?” the girl asked as he approached her.
“Fulfilling my part of our deal,” he said, using the Force to look deeper into her mind.
Some sentients believed Force users were able to perfectly read minds, that belief was incorrect, but it was not wholly without a base, although their power was far more empathic and impressionistic.
It meant that he couldn’t delve into her mind as if it were a book, at most being able to read her most surface thoughts, but sensing the impressions left by a foreign influence was much easier.
For a moment, he thought about her attack on Dinah, the moment Trickster switched his cane with a blaster and shot her, the look on the youngling's face as she tried to respond in kind.
Relaxing his muscles, he managed to avoid scouring her mind, using the Force to take everything she was and leave an empty husk behind, to force her to experience every terrible thing she had done over and over again as punishment.
After days of meditation, resisting the whispers of the Dark Side had been getting easier.
“What do you me-mean?” the girl asked, flinching when he brought an open hand closer to her head.
“The ‘Endbringer’s’ influence in your mind appears obvious, a minor compulsion that would work with your nature, relying more on prediction than domination for its goals; however, it is not impossible that the creature has left other, more subtle commands. I will check for such things before expurgating them altogether.’
“Will it hurt?”
“Unlikely.”
Usually, Anakin would not require any overt gestures, but it had been years since he tried to avoid causing damage, so he left his hand only a few centimeters from her temple, closed his eyes and focused on asking instead of demanding through the Force.
Subtle but overwhelming fear, a sickening miasma that permeated her every moment, making her subconsciously suspect every thought, every action of being controlled.
Regret, a heavy layer filling her mind, not recent but lingering, building with every action for months or even years.
Hope, a recent and small thing, even if heavily colored by a more immediate fear, she did not want to die.
It seems the creature was as competent as he first expected. There was no modification to Marissa’s brain, nor did it leave a psychic compulsion or any obvious working he could break. And yet, its influence was still there, using lingering fear and the inevitable result of a few, years-old prompts to guide her decisions.
The Simurgh had used a combination of an overwhelming first impression, trauma, her own reputation, and the girl’s circumstances to create a lasting influence in her mind; there was no active effect, just expert manipulation. Sidious himself would have appreciated the precision of the technique.
Regardless, he had agreed to break the beast’s influence, so break it he would.
Releasing the hold he had on his power, Anakin allowed the girl to feel, even at a subconscious level, a small part of it, sharing with her his own disdain for the Endbringer, overwriting some of her fear with the absolute certainty that, whatever it was, the Simurgh paled in the face of the Force.
For a single moment, less than a second, he forced the girl to feel the full effect of his presence, to sense him as a Force user would.
“Ahhhh!” Marissa threw herself away from him, her newly created limbs stumbling over her wheelchair and sending her stumbling to the ground, then scurrying backwards, eyes wide and her entire body shaking.
“Enough,” Anakin said. “It is done.”
He could not break an inexistent connection, but he could adopt the same tools, using his own power and influence to counter the creature’s fear; already, he could feel the fear she felt for the creature diminishing in the face of a new one and, ironically, the sliver of hope growing.
Even at such a base, unconscious level, knowing what he was capable of would make her fear him more, but that same fear would counter the Simurgh and give her confidence that he had done what he claimed.
“I’m… you…” Marissa started to say, her pupils dilated into wide circles, and her breath coming hard, a tickle of blood running down her nose.
A light warning in the Force made Anakin turn his gaze slightly out into the bay, the echoes of something brushing his senses. He tried to grasp it, but it faded as if it had never been there.
“Excuse me, Susanoo-Kumichõ,” an old man dressed in a suit said, but froze as soon as he entered the workshop, eyes going from the fallen girl to him, then bowing at the waist. “I… apologise, I can come later?”
“Approach, we are finished for now,” Anakin said, putting both hands behind his back and adjusting his posture.
He’d let the girl recover for a day before starting to study the connection to her power.
The man was older than expected for a gang member, his hair completely white and combed back, but his full goatee was pitch black, and he still had vigor, his body maintaining muscles despite being around sixty years old.
Inugane Kimanjirou, the one Tae-Soo had put in charge of building the workshop.
“Susanoo-Komichõ, the report you requested,” the old man said, offering him a so-called ‘pendrive’ while still bowing. having arrived from japan only a few months ago, he was still unused to the United States.
“Anakin,” he corrected, receiving the data storage device and using the Force to start organizing his worktable, putting away the equipment he had used. “Without the youngling, I tire of those ‘parahuman’ games.”
“Of course, Anakin-komichõ,” the man quickly said, finally raising his head. “Regarding your tinkering…one of my underlings was in charge of the ABB’s dealings with Toybox. Do you wish to restart communication?”
Anakin thought about the offer. From his observation, Tinker creations were inherently flawed; every device created to fail within a year unless maintained by a parahuman, likely a means to prevent the technological elevation of the populace.
“Yes, I may require their cooperation. Provide me a list of their specialities.”
He would need to modify any device he acquired to eliminate such flaws, but the purchases could still accelerate his projects, especially if they provided superior tools or components.
“It is included in the pendrive, sir,” The man said, reaching for something in his pocket out of habit before thinking better of it and continuing. “I’ll make contact with them at once and inform you when they answer.”
Competency, how unexpected. “Very well, anything else to report, Lieutenant?”
“Your former neighbor, Mrs. Aikawa, approached some of our younger members,” he said, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Her house was damaged during the confrontation at your previous workshop, and she demanded restitution.”
Turning away from his work, Anakin focused on the older man even as his equipment continued to float behind his back, electronic parts neatly sorting themselves, and his notebook turning on.
The girl had grown fond of the old woman and her sithspawn cats, he could spare her some consideration.
Inugane swallowed at his look but quickly continued. “Tae-Soo-wakagashira passed the deed to your former workshop back to her since, with the PRT knowing about it, the ABB had no more interest in the location. He also arranged some temporary housing for the woman.”
“Understood, Lieutenant, you’re dismissed,” Anakin nodded, then turned away from the man.
Bowing again, Inugane left the workshop, waiting for him to close the door, Marissa finally spoke. “What did you do to me?”
“As agreed, the Simurgh’s influence on you is broken,” Anakin said, only briefly looking her way before continuing to study Toybox details. “Tomorrow, we start studying the source of your powers.”
Interesting, most of the Tinkers in Toybox were unimportant to him, but both Cranial and Dodge showed promise, particularly in his search for answers.
“... Thank you, I’m sorry about the…” Marissa started to say, then hesitated, swallowed hard, and seemed to gather her strength. “I’m sorry about the attack. If I knew what Trickster was doing, I’d never have agreed to it. I read that Panacea got to the girl in time? She’s doing fine, right?”
“That is correct,” Anakin said absentmindedly, finding one of the last Bakuda bombs he had and starting to disassemble it. “Pray that she remains that way.”
Despite her previous choices, Marissa wasn’t wholly unintelligent, her survival instincts making her retreat closer to the exit with her wheelchair and stay quiet, simply testing her new prosthetics and slowly letting the AI adapt to new movements.
Hours later, Anakin stepped away from the new holoprojectors, two table-sized devices that would act as his new centers of command. Lying on top of it were five wrist-mounted comlinks, the sixth already resting on his wrist, all that he could build with the materials at hand.
With him firmly in charge of the ABB and Dinah’s current situation, leaving the planet was no longer a priority; as a result, he could delay the construction of his ship to focus on improving his new troops.
Fortunately, with how primitive armor technology was on the planet, the low-tech slugtrowers available were sufficient; even the most advanced blaster models would provide only minimal advantages, much less the kind he could produce with available materials, so he chose to focus on securing communications.
An independent hololink network would be both an improvement over the current ‘cellphones’ used by the gang and completely isolated from hacking. They’d also not require him to take off his gloves just to use those primitive screens.
Feeling stiffness in his neck, Anakin frowned at the unfamiliar sensation. It had been so long since he had felt anything but pain in his body that he’d forgotten it was even possible.
However, more than the physical discomfort, it was his ability to tinker without interruption that bothered him; the younglings’ constant interruptions had been irritating but helped ground him in the moment, without it, he had been free to think about the past. It was not a pleasant experience.
Opening the doors of the workshop, Anakin found Tae-Soo and Jun talking in the reception area; they immediately stopped, Tae-Soo lowering his head in greeting. “Boss?”
With only a glance, Anakin floated five of the comlinks towards the man. “Distribute those to the other leaders of the ABB; they will allow secure communications, then transport one of the devices inside into my house.”
“Yes, boss,” he said, then glanced towards the younger man, causing Jun to start moving. “Sir, I believe we have a new development you should be aware of.”
At Anakin’s nod, the man pulled out his phone and transferred an image to the security monitor on the wall, a low-resolution video of three men robbing a gas station.
“About two hours ago, one of our men received this video from a family member, since they weren’t on our territory and none of their capes were present, I didn’t think I should interrupt you, but it seems likely the Teeth have arrived in town.”
Who? He had thought their spiked clothes were simply another custom of this primitive planet, likely a more tribal subculture, but was it another of those parahuman costumes?
It took him a second, but Anakin briefly remembered the name from his initial search on parahumans; their leader should be the Butcher, an interesting phenomenon where both the being's powers and personality were partially inherited by whoever killed it.
Perhaps this was a second stage to whatever experiment those parahumans were. A way to imitate the goal of the rule of two? That would mean the experiment was created after the time of Darth Bane, a survivor from his purge? Or it could be simple coincidence, there was no need to form premature conclusions.
“Very well, Lieutenant, inform me the moment they’re sighted again. Capturing this Butcher will require my personal attention.”
Tae-Soo hesitated for a second, but then he nodded. “Understood.”
Considering everything he had learned, it was obvious there would be protections to prevent the study of parahuman powers; however, allowing said powers to be passed on may require the existence of less protection or even a temporary lowering of them, even if not, a second subject he did not mind damaging would be useful.
Looking back at Marissa, he noted that she had spent the time well, the prosthetics having reached a point where she could move without any trouble.
“Arrange for someone to lead the girl around. Do not allow her to escape, but provide her with whatever she desires, within reason.”
“Yes, boss.”
Left alone, Anakin stood in the middle of the workshop. Having exhausted all of Bakuda’s remaining equipment, he could start disassembling common electronics and equipment, but that would simply be busywork; anything gained that way could be easily bought by the ABB.
Instead, he released a long breath, letting his senses expand through the Force, his power spreading through the city, touching everything but influencing nothing.
He felt better now, almost as stable as before his confrontation with the PRT and Travelers. He finally felt like he could reach for the youngling without staining their connection with the Dark Side.
Their Force-bond was still there, a thin connection thanks to the youngling's lack of presence in the Force, but no less powerful for it.
For a moment, he felt her inside the PRT rig, a thin spot of light in the middle of the bay. She felt tired and angry, but not hurt, her emotions coming from frustration, the desire to do something when forced to remain in place.
Anakin smiled, reminded of his time as a padawan, of how many times he wanted to move, to act, to pursue an objective while his master preached waiting… more often than not, Obi-Wan had been right.
Like him, Dinah wasn’t a particularly patient girl, using her Matukai training to exhaust herself as a distraction.
Using his power to widen the connection, he unclasped the lightsaber from his waist and laid it atop the table, then took a deep breath and adjusted his feet, entering into a Matukai stance.
The girl couldn’t use the connection, not like a normal Padawan could, but she could still sense it, even if only at the most superficial level, nothing more than hints and suggestions like the feeling one gets when being observed or resting in a safe place.
Feeling the echoes of her movement through the bond, he moved his feet, accompanying her through the routine, correcting her.
For half an hour, Anakin fully embraced the Force, letting its power flow through him without any demands, releasing his absolute control and accepting its guidance to act as a conduit, not a master, his unwillingness to taint her with the Dark Side helping him resist its temptation.
“You know, for some reason, I had hoped you’d have made more progress, certainly left fewer corpses at least. How foolish of me.”
Opening his eyes, Anakin stared at Obi-Wan, the old man sitting on the table beside his lightsaber, his body formed entirely by the Force, his presence filling the entire room. “... Master.”
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... Not the strongest chapter I ever wrote, but it was enjoyable to write, and necessary to set up things to come.
Also, I didn't actually intent for Obi-Wan to appear in this fic, (not out of those non-canon omakes at least) but he somehow sneaked his way in and... well, it felt right.
Still, I don't expect him to be a constant presence here, appearing only in key moments, if he ever appears again after next chapter.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1uA2ucJOi8w-keXR-tNhH93lw36sFUeKqy0QSz9eKg0k/edit?usp=sharing
Comments
Dallas
I'm Still enjoying reading this story
Dragonace6489
I'm glad to read this story again and it's good to hear from you
