Dr Doom in Star Wars

 Middle Ring. A planet unknown to the star charts.

 752 DBY.

 14 years before the Mandalorian Purge.

 Two weeks later.

 Darth Doom.

 After the long-planned assassination of my self-proclaimed teacher, I immediately had to deal with thousands of different matters related to the succession of connections and assets that belonged to the madman's numerous personalities. He mostly preferred anonymity, which is why he had almost no dealings with politicians... But he had plenty of shares in various corporations, which brought him a considerable income. Especially considering the fact that the Sith Lord acted reasonably to some extent and destroyed the competitors of companies with his shares.

 Next, I contacted numerous agents of a rather impressive intelligence network, who were paid very generously for their work.

 On Earth, I didn't need such connections and people, because I had my technology, my magic, and my devices, the progress in recreating which I intend to increase in the near future... And the scale was smaller, after all. However, in this galaxy, such spies will be very, very useful to me. Knowing Mephisto and his cunning, I will not find my reincarnated mother with magic or technology alone... I will not find her. So, once again, I will have to combine everything...

 There were no particular problems with any of this. I am intelligent enough, and the madman had prepared practically everything for me, even if he did not expect it to happen so soon.

 I even buried his body properly, which was the highest honour I could give him.

 "Farewell, Darth Varborus. You were mad and foolish, but thanks to you, I gained knowledge and resources. For that, I am grateful to you." — Standing without a mask and folding my metal-clad arms across my chest, I looked at the old man's body burning in the crackling flames summoned by Pyrokinesis.

 Calling fire using the local mystical foundation, which permeated everything even more strongly than magic on Earth, did not particularly appeal to me. But for cases like this, it was indispensable, because all it took was an act of will to summon a flame capable of burning even the body of the gifted, who even after death were more durable creatures than the ordinary intelligent beings of this galaxy.

 When the last bone cracked, charred and turned to ash, I turned and returned to the Sith stronghold on this planet.

 This nameless world, which did not even have a numerical or alphabetic designation, had never been quiet and peaceful. The Dark Side only reinforced what was already there, it did not create anything new.

 Even now, numerous purple bolts of lightning, filled with the Dark Side of the Force, struck the tall, angular building, destroying its outer walls and coverings... Which were immediately restored due to the gigantic saturation of the entire citadel with the Force.

 Destroying and rebuilding itself, this building embodied the concept of eternal suffering, which also strengthened the Dark Side, concentrating it throughout the entire place.

 Despite their own worthlessness, Bane's Sith were able to do something truly interesting. I was able to redirect all this power in a different direction. Although not to myself, I did not allow Varborus to take advantage of it, which, in his madness and the speed of our battle, he did not notice.

 ...However, I don't have time to study the citadel-focuser of the Force in detail.

 After all, I need to speed up the process of improving my reputation as a noble mercenary who cares about his people. Which is not far from the truth, and is not a lie. I have always cared about those who serve me. I give them the best I can, and in return I demand only one thing: complete obedience.

 If someone is interested in ephemeral freedom rather than the material means for a good life, that's their problem. The problem of idiots and fools.

 "Hmm..." I muttered thoughtfully, glancing at the pitiful imitations of my Dumboots — the Dumdroids. The name perfectly reflects their essence. Imperfect, but created by the Mind.

 The multifaceted telekinesis that the Force is capable of better than Dark Magic allowed them to be created, albeit manually, but by the dozens. Their appearance, unfamiliar to the locals and extremely humanoid, would become their calling card in the eyes of intelligent beings. And their perfection would make them a desirable purchase.

 And I will supply them to those who want them. They will become bodyguards. Reliable executors... And my spies.

 After all, with just one order, they would take important people hostage or kill them. Or simply pass on all the information they had gathered. I quickly figured out the principles of the local droid builders' work, which is why I understood where to hide the secret protocols and data storage facilities.

 But it wasn't their appearance that prompted these thoughts.

 To build the reputation I needed, I would need living, organic subordinates. With their help, I could present myself to the common people as a generous man who should be elected king. This time, usurping power... It's possible, of course, but I'll have to fight the Jedi if they decide to overthrow the tyrant. Ha! Indeed, there are more and more similarities with the heroes I know.

 Since I don't need that... I use the Jedi to oppose particularly greedy senators whose interests in the sector of this body's home principality may suffer as a result of my actions. How?

 Jedi are very respectful of the opinions of ordinary people. And when they see that the situation on the planet is really improving, and when they learn about the crimes of the former government... Tired of the corruption of the Senate they are forced to serve, they will support my rule with all their limbs and tentacles. The rule of someone who is not subject to such a low and widespread vice among all intelligent beings.

 And to counter the Jedi, I will establish ties with the Senate, which, if necessary, can prohibit the Jedi from interfering in my actions. After all, their interests and mutually beneficial ventures, which they have established with a very reasonable and understanding monarch, will suffer!

 What idiots the Jedi are after Rusan. To abandon thousands of years of independence and calmly submit to the most corrupt place in the entire Galaxy? Even if we forget the fact that sooner or later they will definitely stand in my way... Such fools are not worthy of existence.

 "So, subordinates..." I muttered quietly, slumping in a chair in the citadel, which was also nameless.

 My gaze fell on the mirror opposite me, which reflected my new face. It was somewhat similar to my past self... But only a third, no more. The rest was... new. But at least it wasn't disfigured.

 I had subordinates. My inner circle, the minimum necessary to rule the state.

 Christoph Vernard... A magnificent marksman and fighter, quite quick-witted, but still naive enough to consider me his adoptive father and heir, which made him the most loyal of all. I did not dispel his delusions, for they were useful to me.

 Boris Karela... An old administrator and bureaucrat who served me longer than anyone else.

 His daughter is Petra Karela, my Head of Administration. Smart, brave, and bold. But I valued these qualities in them... I hope she can handle ruling Latveria until my inevitable return.

 Larin, the last of the monks who created the first version of my armour, whose design I have not changed for decades... Only in another galaxy, due to different requirements for local technology, did it have to be modified slightly.

 They were loyal to me. But there were also traitors who served me just as long. My Minister of Defence, General Makeev... To think that he would betray his homeland for some foreign woman... What a fool he was.

 These memories made me think that it is desirable to educate subordinates from an early age. Just like Peter...

 "We'll have to pay more attention to the children. And most of all to them..." — A slight touch of the Force on the projector turned it on, displaying a complete map of the galaxy. Probably even more complete than the Jedi have. " — Nar Shaddaa," — I concluded, looking at the colourful hologram of the planet.

 I managed to fix the local problem with the colourless holograms, but that's not important. It's the planet itself that matters.

 Smugglers' Moon. Coruscant Inside Out. The rotting Ecumenopolis.

 A world whose atmosphere had turned a dirty yellow from countless wastes.

 It had many names, but each one perfectly described it as the best place to find desperate, embittered children capable of going against the established world order. Against the Republic. Against the Jedi.

 It was on this planet that children best understood that the galactic hegemon and his loyal lackeys did not deserve to exist. After all, in its entire twenty-five thousand year history, Nar Shaddaa was practically the same age as the Galactic Republic, and they had not managed to clean up the main criminal nest in the entire Galaxy.

 And after that, the Jedi dare to call themselves defenders of the innocent and those who are obliged to help those in need?

 "At least the Sith don't hide their ambitions. The Jedi... They're all hypocrites. Guardians of the Peace, ha!" — I said with obvious sarcasm, laughing quietly. " — Don't worry, I'll make sure they know the depth of their own insignificance before they die.

 The mask was lifted into the air by the Force, landing on my face and clinging to the rest of my armour.

 Enough thinking.

 It was time for action.

 The Middle Ring. The Hutt Space. Nar Shaddaa.

 Later.

 Looking at this world in person, I couldn't help but admire the duality of this planet. It was so strongly tied to the Dark Side because of its corresponding filling, but just as far from the Force because no Sith or Jedi had ever stayed here.

 One of the reasons for this was... the Hutts.

 The main criminal race of the galaxy, consisting of huge and vile slime-like creatures, which were practically impervious to mystical energy, which also hindered the Gifted. But it did not hinder heavy weapons, which the Republicans did not deign to bring here, even when their state was at the height of its power.

 The Sith's enemies have become synonymous with stupidity for me. Yes, it's not like most Dark Side adepts are particularly intelligent... But at least they don't lie to themselves about their ambitions...

 Hmm, my thoughts have wandered again.

 The local situation is too conducive to philosophical musings, which could be the subject of a hundred or two meditations.

 Lowering the ship into one of the countless spaceports, I activated all security systems and descended the gangway with a squad of six Dumbroids. I was immediately surrounded by representatives of countless races, too many for even me to remember. There were tens of millions of them, after all...

 "Look at those...

 "New droids?

 "Unusual...

 "They must be worth a fortune...

 "Some rich kid's son decided to play mercenary or bounty hunter?

 Thanks to the Force and my armour systems, I could pick up every little whisper of the intelligent beings, which was translated into the Latverian language I was familiar with in real time.

 I was attracting attention. The plan was working... The negativity and contempt for an atypical mercenary, who, dare I say it, was using a squad of droids, would dissipate after the tasks were completed... And in the end, this would help me come across the jobs I needed — those involving influential people and mass rescues. Reputation, again. I have to endure it for her sake...

 And for my mother, I am ready for anything. Whether it be joining forces with fools and my worst enemies, or even the humiliations I have been forced to endure in this galaxy until now.

 With my hands behind my back, I looked around at the world full of bright lights and vice, somewhat reminiscent of Earth's giant megacities like Tokyo and New York.

 Shaking my head and shaking off a slight nostalgia for my home planet, I headed straight for the lowest slums. According to the information gathered by the Sith, that was where most of the street children were. The Dumbroids also split up, leaving only two with me, while the remaining four began to expand the search area. I could have taken more metal helpers, but I didn't want a reputation as a child abductor. Rumours spread quickly in the slums, and I didn't want my reputation to be dragged through the mud like a Jedi's.

 "Hey, you..." — A group of teenagers ran up to me, pointing their old blasters at me. "Iron dick, come on..." — I didn't bother listening to their ranting, quickly assessing the company.

 Too old. Too stupid. Attacking unknown droids with unknown capabilities head-on? Idiots. Their life on this planet has taught them nothing.

 "Destroy." — interrupting their self-assured chatter the leader, I said laconically, taking my right hand from behind my back and pointing at the targets with two fingers — index and middle — in a downward motion.

 The droids immediately mowed everyone down with two rapid-fire blasters, firing about three dozen red blaster bolts.

 "Slow too." — I shook my head indifferently, returning my hand behind my back.

 ... Immediately after this gesture, I sensed a certain threat. The Force made it clear that it existed, but it did not pose any particular danger to me. Why did I remain standing there, waiting for the outcome? As one of those who could see possible futures, I understood perfectly well that trying to avoid the outcome I had seen would only bring it upon myself... And most likely, it would be even worse.

 So when several fragmentation grenades exploded, I simply activated my armour's protective systems, which covered all exposed parts of the armour and made it completely airtight.

 However, to my slight surprise, during the flash of the explosion, whose fragments were hitting my armour, the Force cried out again, now speaking of a very real threat. Not too high, but... I wasn't going to get even moderate injuries.

 Yes, even if my face was disfigured again, I could heal it, because the magic of the strongest demon of the Underworld would not be involved... But I had no intention of awakening unpleasant memories under any circumstances.

 But I didn't back down. Dumne was running away.

 Clenching my hand into a fist, I activated the Force Barrier, a neutral technique that doesn't resonate with the Dark Side. Although it can be used on this planet — it will only be noticed a couple of hundred metres away.

 A semi-transparent sphere surrounded me from a new, much more powerful explosion. Or rather, a series of explosions. My scanners registered that the small spheres falling from above were using nuclear fusion. At least as a basis, and they were not using radioactive materials familiar to me, but a safer, albeit unimaginably explosive, baradium.

 A thermal detonator.

 Several of them, in fact.

 They didn't skimp or underestimate. That's good. I like that.

 Waiting for the explosion to finally pass, I recalled some of its properties. I remembered that there was also a special field of particles that formed on the outer surface of the explosive sphere and was sustained by so-called decay energy.

 Simply put, this field served to contain the destructive energy within a certain perimeter, otherwise even a small sphere that could fit in the palm of your hand would blow up not just twenty-odd metres away... but two hundred, with the same effect on single targets.

 Although... How are the local fools going to kill hundreds of enemies where the greatest radius of destruction is needed?

 Could it be the same as with human crossbows on Earth, when they were banned because of their excessive effectiveness?

 I hope not. I don't want to be even more disappointed in the locals.

 After about five seconds, the Force stopped reporting any danger, and I removed the dome, glancing at the utterly destroyed Dumbroids. Although... An explosion like that would have torn my full-fledged Dumbots to pieces.

 "Very good," I said with interest, my lips curving slightly into a smile.

 A small use of the Force and confirmation from the hypersensitive scanners showed me who had thrown such dangerous things at me. Glancing around, I noticed that the saboteur was clearly not bothered by collateral damage in eliminating his target. I liked that too, because there was no room for sentimentality or choice of means in this business. There are only two options. Either you destroy the enemy, or they escape.

 And reputation? The average local mercenary doesn't need it. The galaxy is too big, and employers will always be interested in the completion of the task, not collateral damage.

 Nodding in agreement, I threw an identical thermal detonator at the remains of my droids, set for twenty seconds to cover my tracks, then with a few powerful jumps, easily attributed to my exoskeleton, I climbed onto the roof of one of the buildings.

 With a casual glance, I noticed only a thin tail disappearing somewhere below, while all the other means of observation in my arsenal detected a small figure of some kind of humanoid intelligence. It began to nimbly run down numerous ledges, rivaling the best acrobats I had ever seen. But unfortunately for him, no one can escape me. Especially when I'm interested in something.

 Especially... But this is interesting, though...* * *

 Nearby.

 One of the many female mercenaries of Nar-Shaddaa.

 A young girl, whom some idiots for some reason insist on calling a little girl, was running away from a very strange target.

 Not that she had much experience, she was only thirteen Coruscant years old, but as a rule, the trick that had failed now always worked.

 First, she would set some shabby gang on her enemies, then throw a few fragmentation grenades from a high place to neutralise their primary means of defence... And then she would finish them off with a few thermal grenades of her own design.

 The young saboteur managed to make the particle field surrounding the explosion disappear. This allowed her to use much less baradium in her grenades, so she didn't go into the red after every mission.

 And in general, the owner of an almost human appearance followed the principle that there are no unkillable enemies, only too little explosives.

 And only now did her confidence in this statement waver, for the intelligent man in unusual, but clearly not Mandalorian armour, had some kind of unknown means of protection. Six of her detonators, each with the explosive power of a normal one, had failed to take him down!

 "Hoo-oo..." she exhaled, because even her race needed time to rest, despite their amazing endurance.

 And she had not yet reached the peak of her physical abilities due to her age.

 ...That was what allowed her strange target to catch up with her.

 "The saboteur turned out to be a female saboteur." — said a very commanding voice almost in her ear, whose owner was clearly used to giving orders and demanding obedience, and was not without a considerable amount of pride.

 At the same time, he somehow managed to send a chill down even her spine — she who was accustomed to thousands of victims and had grown up in the slums of this cursed planet, forced to fight for her life in conditions that would cause the entire Senate to faint.

 Turning abruptly, she tried to stab her opponent with a small knife made of beskara, a gift from her mentor, who, even on his deathbed, never revealed his identity, but the mercenary suspected he was of Mandalorian origin.

 ...However, the knife was caught between two fingers, and the thirteen-year-old representative of an almost extinct race shuddered as soon as she met the piercing gaze of poisonous green eyes, in which a witch's flame flickered, similar to that described in various tales on Smugglers' Moon.

 "No-o-o," she hissed, dropping the knife and jumping back. "You won't take me alive!" — Knowing full well what awaited a young and rather pretty female on this planet, she quickly fumbled with her belt, activating as many explosive devices as possible.

 Even if it didn't kill the steel man, it would definitely tear her to pieces, and they wouldn't be able to torture her for the failed assassination attempt.

 That's why the mercenary's surprise, even shock, only increased when all the activated bombs suddenly took off from her belt and flew high into the air, where they exploded impressively.

 "Beautiful..." — the bomber muttered unconsciously and admiringly, long fascinated by the beauty of large explosions, which also reminded her of fireworks. "Oh, hatt!" — she quickly came to her senses, glancing warily at the motionless man standing nearby. "Lucky to run into a Jedi..." — sighing doomfully, she remembered those who could levitate things in this way.

 "I'm not a Jedi, you idiot. Have you ever seen Jedi walking around with droids guarding them?" — Her probing, coolly curious eyes began to express contempt.

 "Then what is that... Not your... their Force?" — The owner of the scarlet eyes corrected herself, deciding not to provoke such a dangerous intelligent being.

 Maybe he really wasn't a Jedi, but some kind of... Sith. There were lots of stories about them. The Jedi said they had destroyed them... But even the most drunken fool wouldn't believe their words.

 Or maybe he's trying to deceive her and he is a Jedi after all, lying once again. Better to show obedience and get a chance to survive. That's the basis of life for any sane creature on this planet. Moreover, something told the mercenary that this time, luck, which had helped the lover of all things explosive survive many times before, would not help her. A feeling that chilled her to the bone emanated from the monster hiding under the layer of steel.

 "This is the Force," he confirmed calmly, holding the red-eyed creature in place with a single glance. "But there are many different groups of intelligent beings capable of using it. If you were more inclined to do so, you could also use it. But your maximum ability is a small amount of telekinesis when you exert yourself to the utmost."" — Stunning the very young girl or young woman who had realised what he had said, he had no intention of stopping: "Not all mercenaries belong to the Bounty Hunters' Guild, just as not all those capable of using mystical energy belong to the Jedi Order. Is the analogy clear?

 "Y-yes..." — No other answer was possible in his oppressive presence. Don't be stupid, she understood that.

 "That's good. You're not completely hopeless... Introduce yourself, and rest assured, I will detect any lies. Even the smallest ones." The stranger emphasised the last word.

 "I... I don't have a name. I don't remember my parents, there was no one to give me one. Only my mentor... He gave me a call sign..." — The mercenary swallowed and shivered from the cold air. "Vi. Just Vi..."

 "Next question." — The non-Jedi continued demandingly... It seemed that her mentor called them dar'jetee. — Your race? I can't find it in the databases.

 "We're almost extinct, and there weren't many of us to begin with... Zakras..." — Vi shrugged cautiously, seeing no reason to hide it.

 "And how do you know them, since you didn't know your parents?" — he asked in a more threatening tone, a hint of suspicion slipping into his voice.

 "My mentor... He worked with them. For a long time. That's why he took a completely useless girl as his apprentice, allowing her to survive on this planet." — She chuckled with a hint of irony, suddenly finding some courage within herself. No, enough of her patience...

 "Continue." — The armoured man interrupted her musings, his gaze knocking all the foolish thoughts out of the saboteur's head. "Your mentor."

 "I don't know much about his... past." "Once again shuddering, Vi began to answer obediently. "His name was Canderus. He was a mercenary who knew his business well. But by the time I was training, he had suffered too many injuries and grown too old... To continue his usual work, yes..." The rebel began to explain somewhat incoherently. "He taught me everything I know... And he gave me this blade from the bekar..." She nodded towards the cold weapon she was still holding in her fingers. "I suspect... Well... I think... He was one of the Mandalorians, even though I never saw their armour on him..."

 "I see." — The man, who appeared to be human, replied briefly, suddenly throwing the sword into her hands. — "My name is Victor von Doom. And I am giving you a choice that you must answer for yourself. Will you obey me, or will you die for daring to try to kill me?..

 "As you wish... I may not be very smart..." — she snorted, gathering her courage from the realisation that she had a chance to survive. "But I'm not as stupid as those morons I sent after you, Mr... Doom. And... Heh... I gladly accept your offer.

 "Don't be sarcastic and don't be insolent." — The stranger shrugged. "I don't need flattery. I only value honesty." — he said, eliciting a reflexive sceptical look from Vi, who was not used to believing anyone's words after living on this planet. "And only from those who deserve to say it in my presence." — he added with a slight smile. "You deserve it. For now. And that's a generous gesture on my part. An advance.

 "I... understand. Mr. Doom." — The mercenary nodded briefly, showing deference.

 "Excellent. Come with me. The explosion attracted attention we don't need." — These words also implied refusal, and Vi, who was already beginning to understand her reluctant master, instantly understood this.

 Shivering under the last glance that Doom cast at the owner of the horns and tail, the saboteur cautiously followed him.

***

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