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(SHATTERPOINT) EASIER SAID THAN DONE
🕑 Added 2025-06-05 08:49:58 +0000 UTCThe clang of metal echoed through the garage as Anakin tightened the last bolt on a battered engine block. The machine—a rust-colored pickup from this world’s previous decade—rattled like it wanted to fall apart just out of spite. Still, it ran. He made sure of that.
He wiped his hands on a rag that had long since lost the battle against grease, then leaned back, breathing in the heavy scent of oil and scorched rubber. The smell reminded him of the maintenance bay aboard his TIE fighter. Back then, he had droids and technicians at his beck and call. Now, he worked alone. Mostly in silence. Among people who barely remembered his name on a good day.
Dorothy walked past, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning the inventory list. She offered him a nod as she passed, and he returned it without a word. She didn’t ask questions, and he appreciated that. She thought he was ex-military or maybe some cape—what this world had as a substitute for Force-sensitives—laying low. That suited him just fine.
He glanced around the shop. One of the new kids was arguing with a customer over a botched brake job. A pneumatic drill hissed and groaned from the far bay. Someone had left the radio on, the volume just loud enough for him to hear a tinny voice reporting another cape fight in Downtown. Skidmark again, being a nuisance for reasons only he knew.
None of it involved him, not yet.
So Anakin turned back to the engine.
The Force had always guided him, even when he didn't realize it. A gentle pair of hands beneath everything. Beneath his breath. His pulse. Allowing him to feel intention in motion, to sense life in all its shifting complexity.
Without it, the world was... flat. He could see, hear, touch, but not feel the way he used to. No precognition to guide his movements, no quiet whispers of danger. Just instinct and memory, and that wasn't enough.
He’d told himself, when he first woke in this broken city, that this was his second chance. A place to atone. A world without the Force meant fewer excuses. No prophecy. No Jedi Council. No Emperor. Just Anakin Skywalker and a choice: protect, or let it all burn.
He'd chosen to protect.
But that had been easier to promise in silence, standing on a rooftop with no one watching. No one to hold him to it, or tell him otherwise.
Now?
He was starting to realize how much of that had depended on things he no longer had. The Force was gone. So was the authority of a Jedi’s robes, the awe of Vader’s armor, the terror of his name. In this world, he was just a man with grease-stained hands and a mysterious past no one would believe if he told them.
No one important would listen when he spoke. No one would look to him for leadership.
For the first time in a long time, Anakin Skywalker was invisible.
He closed the hood of the truck with a heavy thud.
“You okay, Skywalker?” Dorothy’s voice cut through the droning of the radio.
He turned. She stood with a hand on her hip, watching him with that same guarded concern she’d had since day one.
“Fine,” he said.
“Looked like you were about to knock that truck out for good.”
“I wouldn’t waste the effort,” he muttered, dryly.
She huffed a laugh and moved on.
He let the silence settle again. Then, slowly, he drifted to the back of the shop. The alley behind it was cluttered with busted tires, shattered glass, and the sharp bite of wind off the bay. It stank of salt and rot, like everything in this city.
He leaned against the wall and looked up.
The sky was always gray.
And for the thousandth time, he caught himself wondering: How?
How do you protect a world that doesn’t know you, doesn’t trust you, and doesn’t believe in anything you used to be?
He thought of Luke. Of Padmé. Of Obi-Wan, voice full of heartbreak as Darth Vader screamed in agony as he burned—“You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!”
He closed his eyes.
“I don’t know how to do this without the Force,” he whispered.
And the world gave him nothing in return.
No directions. No promptings. Just the wind, the stink, and the distant wail of sirens.
Atonement, he was learning, was easier said than done.
Comments
OnAHiatus
Thank youuuuu
Dragonin
Technically, they aren’t wrong about him being ex-military. Also, you did great describing the lack of force-sensitive senses
OnAHiatus
Yeah, but for now, I need him to be a normal—albeit—intelligent man. It makes the plot I have in mind easier, and if you are paying, I dropped a hint as to the story’s other major character
Ronin Katarn
Interesting so far. I assume that eventually he gets the force back, most likely after some traumatic/self discovery type moment and it will open up even more scars and trauma for him. Can’t wait to see if it happens. Lol
