Karp
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Jedi Insurgency 075
🕑 Added 2025-07-21 17:32:42 +0000 UTCAN: Recall this is a Legends-verse, and rewatch 2003 clone wars Grievous to see how dangerous droids/cyborgs can be.
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Civilians swarmed away from the town square like panicked womp rats, their screams echoing through the high-rise streets of Eriadu City as klaxons wailed from every public terminal.
Above the skyline, the rising pale moon shone down upon them, revealing faces filled with panic, dread, and terror.
From the upper atmosphere, a miniature mech suit-standing at about 12ft tall-tore into view. Its descent was like a meteor, hot plasma gushed from open ports, brightening the environment up. Jets howled at its back, spitting ion-blue fire as it punched through the clear night sky. It was a technological terror on a level at or above what had been done to General Grievous. Bristling with rotary cannons, shoulder mounted concussion-missile launchers, chest implanted sonic emitters, and a frontal plasma saw, this warmachine was the cutting edge creation of a society that had warred against the endless horde of droids fielded by the CIS.
Inside the cockpit, locked into a web of neural links and sensory feedback cables, sat the cloned, cybernetically resurrected mind of Wilhuff Tarkin. The brain sat within a metal skull covered in synthetic flesh. Although this skin took the shape of his face, he had no other body parts to speak of. For all intents and purposes, the machine was his body.
Once a well respected Admiral, his current form would be considered a walking war crime in the old Republic.
Memories of his demise came to mind as his scanners identified the masked man, and a frothing, stimulant induced hatred swept across his mind like a wildfire. His eyes twitched, and wept a thin, oily black substance. A piercing migraine pierced his skull, as various memories blended into one, and his vision briefly blurred.
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A string of text burned itself across his vision, briefly purging the corrupted memories.
The scientists working on him had called his memory lapses neural cascade failure. A side effect of over-integration with a droid's systems. They said his brain was degrading. That his mind was collapsing in on itself.
But Tarkin didn’t care.
“Clarity at last.” Tarkin breathed.
Remembering his purpose, he recalled the training engrams that he had been implanted with. His new form was firepower and fear made manifest. He had outlived his old flesh, now he was the instrument through which order would be enforced.
Flanking him were twelve Mandalorian shock troopers flying in formation. Their jetpacks roared, and their armor was camouflaged for urban combat. Each bore the sigil of the Mythosaur, denoting their clan allegiance. The famed Jedi killers had been assembled at his father's behest, they would be Tarkin’s instrument for revenge.
Those who hadn't fled the square gawked from mag-train windows. Children froze on skywalks. A news reporter noticed the sigil on his armor, and his enhanced audio receptors caught her words: “Frak, the Tarkins have come to make an example out of Revan!”
Those words centered his wrath, and his guns twitched as he refocused his attention upon the object of his ire. The masked man was almost within range. In a few seconds, he would be nothing less than a broken corpse.
Revan was the Jedi Knight who had taken everything from him. Perched atop a fallen statue, the masked man ignited his azure blade, and waved his hand several times, as if warding away a bad stink in the air.
Tarkin’s metal lips twisted. He had seen Jedi make this motion countless times when they wanted to use the Force.
As soon as he had that thought, Tarkin felt his mental state collapse, a strong impulse to land, and mouth off at Revan took hold of him. It felt like it would only be right to monologue at the Jedi, and espouse the Empire's greatness…!
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Rotary guns twitching, Tarkin felt a spark in his brain, and was jolted out of his revery by the machine.
‘I am beyond such petty powers now!’ Tarkin crowed!
“Weapons hot. Clear this street, remove the rebels from my sight. Fire everything!" Tarkin sternly ordered.
The mech’s cannons erupted with a loud, thumping noise. Laser blasts raked the upper levels of nearby towers. Concussion missiles howled between buildings, vaporizing comms relays and rupturing power nodes. One strike tore through a skybridge, sending a cascade of pedestrians plummeting. Revan moved through the falling debris like a ghost, his speed was almost impossible to follow. The man seemed to be pushing as many civilians as he could to safety. Tarkin’s cold, calculating mind saw that this was a weakness of the Jedi, and exploited it to the best of his ability.
The Mandalorians didn't remain idle, and swarmed Revan, herding him into a kill zone. Unleashing whipcords, stun nets, and thermal detonators in precise waves, they utilized their aerial mobility to move just out of range of any counterattack.
Revan leapt up to extreme heights, vaulting between signs and turbo-lift scaffolds, and redirected two missiles with the Force into a Mandalorian. The mercenary screamed as his jetpack failed, and he fell to his demise.
Another pair of Mandalorians came at Revan from behind, their blasters accurately hit him in the back whilst he was falling down, yet a faint shield shimmered, and rippled making their bolts ineffective.
Seeing this, the duo jetted forth, and unsheathed vibroblades. As soon as they neared, Revan twisted, and unleashed a torrent of lightning from the palm of his hands. The pair of mandos seized up, and screamed in enormous amounts of pain.
Tarkin frowned at what he just witnessed. Those men wore beskar armor, it was a highly energy resistant material. Taking note of that, he decided to keep his distance, and save some fuel. Crashing into the side of a skyscraper, his metal boots slammed into glass pane after glass pane as he slid down the massive structure. A million glass shards cascaded down onto the ground below, killing or injuring many. Yet Tarkin cared not. His cannon on the right arm launched burst grenades, whilst the one on his left shot out starfighter grade turbolaser fire.
“Target locked.” Tarkin muttered to himself as his scanners perfectly picked up the arc that Revan was falling at.
Depressing the trigger, he was anticipating a red cloud of blood to explode, yet what happened next defied all logic. One of the electrocuted Mandalorians was pushed into the way of his attack, blocking it. As soon as Tarkin recalculated, and adjusted his firing arc, the Jedi used the other corpse to jump off it! Lunging towards a nearby skyscraper, Revan cut his way into an office space.
“After him!” Tarkin growled!
Booster jets flaming, he rose into the air once more, and directed the nine remaining Mandalorians. They unloaded a series of extreme firepower into the office space. Computers, desks, and other miscellaneous objects flew everywhere during the deluge of blaster fire. One mercenary unleashed the missile on the back of his jetpack, and when it made contact, the entire floor exploded in a dense fog of fire.
Searching with his scanners, Tarkin observed the dust ridden fog with infrared, and saw nothing.
“Cease fire.” Tarkin crisply ordered.
Observing the scene, he saw many bits and pieces of corpses, but none fit the description of his hated foe. Jedi were wily enemies, it was best not to chance it. So Tarkin sent out a message to his family gunship that was hovering in low orbit.
*Fire support mark. Maximum impact.*
Seconds later, a capital ship came into view. Bright green lances shuddered through the atmosphere. The skyline shimmered brightly, and he watched on in glee as terror was struck on the faces of every man, woman and child he saw. A moment later, pinpoint strikes collided directly with the top of the building, forcing its collapse.
When the dust cleared, Tarkin landed in the half broken town square, cratering the pavement. A quake from the turbolasers had collapsed the metroplex terminal across the avenue, and flames spewed in all directions.
His voice boomed through the loudspeakers:
“This city was my cradle. You won’t defile it with your cowardice and superstition, Jedi!”
Civilians ran screaming, but more were silent, unable to move again as their twisted limbs lined the smoky streets.
“Orders, sir?” One Mandalorian asked.
Tarkin was about to reply, when he noticed the faint sound of footsteps. It was too close for comfort, yet his visual receptors couldn't pick it up, his audio could! Recalling the reports of that day, it was almost guaranteed that Revan was equipped with a stealth generator!
Without a word to his subordinates, he opened up with a wide, sweeping attack. Tarkin's arms split open into twin energy projectors. Plasma coils brightened, and a twin beam attack-like the beams a LAAT could unleash-were released in a semi-circle around him.
“Revan, you kriffing coward, come face the future!”
One Mandalorian was caught up in this attack, and his armor sizzled under the high intensity beam, forcing him to take a knee.
“Tarkin, you-!” The Mandalorian got out, but was cut short as his body was floated in front of Tarkin’s beams.
Emerging from invisibility, the masked man had caught a glancing blow, and now was using the beskar armored man as a corpse shield.
“Shoot him!” The Mandalorian held in midair cried out.
The remaining eight mercenaries were quick to react, and shot at Revan from all angles.
Revan then pushed the slowly melting merc at Tarkin, and began to dance. His movements were like the flow of water. Smooth, wild, and surprisingly fast. No matter where the angle of attack came from, it was as if he had eyes on the back of his head! Bolts passed over or over his limbs by less than a hair, missiles that were about to impact had their trajectories altered so they were shot back into the air. Whatever wasn't dodged was redirected. Twin lightsabers flickered left to right, front to back, top to bottom. Revan's movements were chaotic, and unpredictable. The droid systems hooked to his brain calculated thousands of possible permutations, and the ‘most likely’ move that would be taken next, yet they were only accurate 60% of the time!
It was inconceivable!
‘No, I was designed to be the doom of the Jedi. To replace their failed religion with order and precision!’
He charged through the collapsing plaza, cannons blazing, Tarkin unleashed his plasma saw, and revved his engines to a high pitch. Engaging his boosters, he flew horizontally at the Jedi, his speed briefly matched that of a starfighter as he overclocked his systems.
Revan stopped his advance at the far edge of a monorail platform. Despite everything they threw at him, he was calm amid chaos. Twirling his twin lightsabers, the masked man prepared himself in a cool, collected manner.
For a second, even the Mandalorians held off their assault. Pulling back, they watched on in curiosity, eager to witness the clash between cyborg and Jedi.
And the people, those still alive, at least, watched on in awe as the pair of monsters tore through their skyline. Caught in a war not of their making, they prayed to whatever might listen. That this conflict would end before it consumed them all.
Speed, mechanical precision, enhanced reflexes-the best science could modify, and money could buy-it was just enough to keep up with the Jedi!
Tarkin's energy weapon repeatedly clashed again and again with Revan's. The twin blades moved side to side, constantly parrying away his bulk, and overwhelming physical power with speed and precision.
A twirl of the blade, and Tarkin saw his rotary cannon collapse to the floor. The training engrams helped, and his experience as a fencer also played a part in his skill, if he didn't have these two factors at play, that would have been his head! No matter, it was a worthy sacrifice as he had a surprise of his own. Chest panels opening up, a pulsing sonic attack was unleashed nearly point blank. The shield that covered Revan rippled, and it looked like it was on the verge of bursting!
‘I just have to keep him here, and grind him down through attrition!’ Tarkin thought to himself as he made this realization.
“Troopers, engage!” He growled.
The Mandalorians responded, and moved like a single organism.
Their HUDs were synced via encrypted microburst transmissions, filtering targets and angles with military perfection. They began to swarm Revan with efficient precision.
Two dropped stun nets from above while another fired an adhesive cryo-grenade near Revan’s feet, aiming to immobilize him. Two more scaled the building across from him, directing flanking suppressive fire into his predicted evasion path. They weren’t here to watch a duel, they were here to perform an execution!
One Mandalorian-Commander Vekk-landed on a busted traffic pylon and barked in Mando’a:
“Osik! He’s channeling the Force, cut his line of sight! Smoke him!”
“Yes brother!” Came the response.
Seconds later, a dense cloud of smoke fell around the Jedi, and one of his men-who was about to meet a brutal end-was saved by the cloudy substance.
After all that they had thrown at him, Revan was seemingly beginning to lose his touch. Fatigue was the weakness of every man, and Jedi were no different. This was it! This was their chance! Supporting Tarkin from afar, the Mandalorians pounced like beasts smelling weakness in their prey.
For every missile the Jedi redirected, two more forced him into tighter and tighter confines. He was penned between a collapsed mag-train terminal and a partially burning skybus station. His robe was singed on the edges due to so many near misses, and his maneuverability-Revan’s greatest strength-was slowly being taken from him.
At first, the Mandalorians thought this was going terribly, yet to face a Jedi Knight and win was what all true blooded Mandos strived for in life!
Just when it seemed that Revan could evade every last attack, an ion attuned wrist rocket took him across the chest.
The explosion sent him reeling back into a half-standing support beam. It crackled violently on impact, temporarily shorting his sabers. Without his signature weapon, Revan was open to attack!
The Mandalorians were ecstatic.
Three of them moved in, their wrist flamers gushed out jets of flames.
Yet all three of them were met with horrible deaths.
Revan’s hand lifted. A Force pulse, surged out in a blast-wave that snapped necks and shattered internal organs. The nearest Mandalorian hit a transit beam at incredible speeds, his helmet twisted at an unnatural angle. Another had his tubes tied, and the fuel mixture in his jetpack became unstable, exploding him into Tarkin’s mech suit. The third mercenary had the flames he spewed go back up his tube, resulting in immediate destruction.
“Three down!” Vekk called. “Tarkin, he’s not boxed yet!”
From his throne-like cockpit, Tarkin exhaled a mechanical sigh.
“Keep attacking. It doesn't matter how many die so long as the Jedi falls.” Tarkin ignored the closed channel, and his voice boomed across the square in a cultured, aristocratic tone. “Burn him to the bedrock.”
The mech’s shoulder plates opened again. This time, cluster missiles deployed, scattering into micro-explosives that blanketed a full block. Explosions rippled outward, folding air pressure like tinfoil. The superstructure of the metroplex groaned, and what glass hadn't shattered during this cataclysmic battle finally broke apart.
Another Mandalorian was caught too close to Tarkin's attack. A redirected blastwave sent him spiraling into the side of a building, and skewered him on a sharpened piece of loose metal.
“Kriffing Jedi’s still standing!” Vekk cried out in alarm.
Smoke curled off Revan's shoulders. Blood leaked from his robes. His twin lightsabers sputtered to life again, rebooting from the ionic disruption. He limped toward the north corridor where a partially-collapsed service duct might offer escape.
Then a voice echoed from above. A honeyed snarl transmitted through the floating mech’s speakers:
“Turn yourself in, Jedi, face justice. Your war crimes deserve to face the light of day.”
Revan paused in his step, and let out a low chuckle, his head swept from left to right, taking in the carnage that had once been a bustling street of people and commerce. No words retorted Tarkin’s claim, but the mockery was obvious.
Tarkin curled his lip. “Every death is a result of Jedi malice. That is how the public will see it.” Tarkin airily declared before he launched himself forward.
Landing directly in front of Revan, Tarkin blocked his path with a wall of hyperalloy plating.
Revan raised his weapons in a defensive stance. His shoulders were heaving, clearly exhausted after fending off attacks from every conceivable angle.
A cruel, gentlemanly smirk that had once encouraged the genocide of lesser beings graced his cold, mettalic face.
“You Jedi had your principles. But principles are like cityscapes. Fragile. Ornamental. And utterly flammable.”
The plasma saw revved to life once more, and lashed out. Revan blocked it, but the blow sent him flying. The Jedi seemed to have angled himself in just a way that it would only be a glancing blow. Borrowing the force of Tarkin's attack, he jumped up, and flipped directly over Tarkin’s 12ft frame!
A pair of sabers diced into his armored frame, and several audio sensors were taken out, as well as the attachment holding his power saw. All he had left was a laser cannon, which he began to blast at the falling Revan with great prejudice. The bolts slammed into his lightsaber, and were deflected all around Tarkin’s feet, churning up great clouds of dust.
Thermal vision blaring, he watched his quarry disappear into a maintenance shaft.
“Revan’s down.” Vekk muttered. “Shall we confirm the kill?”
But Tarkin only closed his eyes and tilted his head to listen for any more footsteps. Broken static met his ears, and a strong tinnitus induced ringing pierced his psyche. He almost went mad as numbers, and the phrase energy reserves low flashed in the corner of his vision.
“No, no. Let him crawl. Let him feel the dirt of this world in his lungs, as I once did. I want him alive enough to understand the cost of a Jedi's folly.”
Revan was gone.
Vanished into the lower levels, the flea had disappeared.
“He escaped.” Vekk growled.
“Did he?” Tarkin mocked, during their confrontation, he had managed to hit the edge of Revan's robes with a tiny-thumbsized-tracker.
He then leaned his head back, and regarded the vast amounts of destruction that his suit had created. Pride pulsed through his system as the excitement of the hunt sent his chemsoaked brain into a delusional state of grandeur.
“The game continues. Excellent.”
Comments
Basically God
I have to say that Grievous was dangerous due to who was forcibly converted not because of the augmentation itself. From what I remember the tech wasn't anything special.
Karp
It's the T-1000
Jar Jar Bingus
Ah yiss, thanks for the chapter!
Sin Vergil
I kind of hope he "heals" the brain while its inside the machine so the rest tries to grow back
conor webster
Thanks for the update I hope Corvus comes up with a plan to kill Tarkin soon
Sin Vergil
Tarkin-209 was definitely not high on my list of things I expected today but, it'll certainly be nice to see Corvus flash fry it. Also those Mandos must be getting paid massive stacks to stay that loyal after it seemed like Tarkin killed as many as Corvus did.
GOD KING AQUA
Cool chaptet
firerock laser
Thanks for the chapter
