Dark Lord: Bride of Vader

Chapter 1: Complications

I do not own any of the Star Wars and DC characters and ideas represented in this work.

"Everybody thought of Darth Vader as this big evil guy, that he had no heart, that he was just evil. But in the end it's not that at all. Here's a guy who's lost everything." - George Lucas​
Space. An absence of creation. A void that exists between moons, worlds, stars, nebulae, and entire galaxies. Its dark arms span its cold, merciless reach across the universe itself. So vast is its domain that light from stars themselves reluctantly crosses the trek to reach and transmit their beams of energy to planets so that beings from all directions of life can observe them.

But they only fool themselves; they tell themselves, their friends, family, and children that the stars above exist for the sole purpose of illuminating the universe so that they can traverse it, so that existence would be less dark and less cold. So that they can dream.

This, too, is a lie. The dangerous journey that lights from stars to reach those who oversee them takes so long because of the vast distances that the star transmitting the ray of light could be already long dead after its light has been cast. Beings who gaze at the stars and imagine them as eternal balls of light against the dark are only kidding themselves. Because that very star that they are looking at right above may not even exist anymore.

Many things could have happened to it. It may have gone supernova, turned into a lesser star, a former fraction of itself, or, maybe rarely, metamorphosed into a black hole, changing and altering reality itself into its own design and will.

All of the causes of a star's death is pointless, for it won't change anything. The star is gone, no longer the glorious dot in the night sky that beings dream of seeing. It is only a shadow of its former self. Existing with no real purpose.

The light it used to shine may still exist, though. But it could abruptly stop at any given moment. Depending on one's location when observing the light, it might take many millennia for the light to cut off. In the same amount of time that led civilizations to rise and fall, religions and cults that might worship the light above might not even know that it is only a trick of reality.

No matter the distance and length of time for the light to die and show the truth of the dark, the light of a dead star is only that—a memory. A memory that will be forgotten by the emptiness of space. Forgotten forever.

While the eternal abyss is one of the cruelest aspects of the universe, there are very few things that rival its own warmless state of existence. Very few of these things are in fact, sentient beings. And a small percentage of those beings are just as cold as space.

These groups of beings were once many, but that was a millennium ago, now there are only two.

A master and an apprentice.

There were, of course, alterations, outliers, and exemptions to this rule. There were pretenders and traitors who wished to make their own dynasty like the ancient Sith. But none of them were as powerful and successful compared to the two current Sith Lords of the modern day.

Darth Sidious, the master of the Sith Order, and his current and most powerful apprentice, Darth Vader. Dark Lords of the Sith.

Both have forged a dream that so many Dark Lords have tried to accomplish, and some even manage to almost accede but ultimately fail: the entire galaxy under Sith rule and the Jedi, their longtime rivals, destroyed. However, this was half the truth, as the entire galaxy wasn't in full control between the unknown regions still consuming the western half of the galaxy and independent governments like Hapes, Hutt Space, and others sitting here and there. But those are only minor footnotes to the grand scheme that was the near millennium of plotting and planning to orchestrate the revenge of the Sith to take full action.

And so was the case with the destruction of the Jedi. Not every Jedi Padawn, Knight, and Master were in the Jedi Temple in Coruscant or fighting the Clone Wars. Some managed to get away, and some were doing assignments in Wild Space or in the regions, among other things. The majority of them, however, went into hiding, their once precious Republic now hating them or simply forgetting them. Forcing them to enter exile. Their temples, their ancient sites, their texts, and so forth were either destroyed or taken by Sith hands.

The very few Jedi left now know what it feels like to be destroyed, what it feels like to have their cherished planets destroyed, much like how the Sith's Korriban or Dromund Kaas were pillaged and looted over centuries. They, too, now know what it feels like to be a memory long forgotten.

The very few Jedi who managed to escape but refused to hide and fight against the Empire only got destroyed. The Dark Side of the Force was too powerful in these so called 'dark times'. In their thousand years of blind arrogance, they allowed themselves to be complacent and let their order be destroyed from the inside out. Their once and beloved 'Chosen One' was the one that helped the Emperor destroy the complacent Jedi. The one who was destined to destroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force only joined the Dark Order and helped enforce the Emperor's shadow grip on the Force itself.

This was the Sith dream, but the dream was starting to unfold.

There has always been resistance and pushback against the Galactic Empire since its creation, From cowardly senators to former traitorous separatist holdouts, resistance and rebellions popped and died occasionally. But the Alliance has proven, just now proven, that it was an established threat, for the small band of rebels now destroyed the Emperor's Death Star. What once was thought impossible by prideful Imperial Officers became possible.

Near what used to be the 'Universe's ultimate weapon' was a lone spinning out-of-control TIE Advance. It spun and spun and spun until it seemed like that was its own meandering purpose until its pilot finally got it back under control.

Its pilot, a legendary one in fact, once was the flaming bright star that used to be Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One. Who might as well have had the power of a star in actuality But now, whatever was left of the 'hero with no fear' was just a memory, with his unlimited potential with it.

This shadow, this memory, Darth Vader, now in the void of space with his personal TIE, was stuck in thought as he flew the starfighter into empty space.

He had failed the Emperor.

There is no doubt that he will be punished for failing to receive the Death Star plans from the rebels. No matter how Vader details the story of the responsibility of this disaster to the incompetent officers and that old fool Tarkin, his master could never let this failure leave. A reassignment to take the Yavin system and destroy the rebels from there seems to be the likely outcome.

Yet despite how Vader should be disappointed in himself for letting the rebels win and failing the Emperor's project, he can't help but feel relieved and prideful at the reality that, finally, he did it.

He killed Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The Jedi master who ruined Vader's dream of taking over the Empire. Who ruined Vader's own body, letting him burn to cinder by a river of fire and forcing the Young Sith Lord to be trapped in his suit. Decades of training himself for a destined confrontation have paid off now. It wasn't spies nor the Inquisitors that brought Kenobi to the fold, but rather the simple old man brought upon himself to meet his fate by Vader's blade. The last of the great Jedi, other than that little green fool, has died.

But in that relief and in that victory, he felt a small sense of terror. For when Vader struck down, the old man who was once his master, Kenobi, disappeared. Only his lightsaber and old robes remain. No blood, no scream, no corpse. The old man willingly let Vader slice him up. The only seeable reason was that he wanted to let those rebels escape in that Correlian YT-1500.

At first, Vader thought the old Jedi had conjured a mind trick—a final attack against the Sith Lord—yet Vader did not sense anything, and his defenses weren't attacked. Anger set in motion that whatever the old Jedi planned worked, and Vader might be powerless to stop it. If only he could reach back to Sidious and explain what happened, his master is sure to know what sort of ancient Jedi technique Kenobi performed. Certainly, he must've learned that one from Yoda.

Another thought entered him when gliding his TIE. The lone rebel pilot that destroyed the Death Star. They had the Force; there was no debate, but whether they were Jedi or not was the real question. He felt their strength and their raw power in it. Unfocused, though, they had so much potential yet wasted it on the pointless rebels.

Perhaps it was a Jedi, after all, some Jedi did join the Alliance, like that old blind fool Rahm Kota or Vader's powerful yet pathetic apprentice. Both are dead now, however, and so are the real Jedi. This needed more investigation when he got to Imperial Space.

Checking to see if his TIE in-built hyperspace drive was damaged, which it wasn't, he primed the hyperdrive with his Navi-computer set in coordinates. The TIE 'boomed' itself out of the abyssal space and into the near-empty world of hyperspace.

Blue shimmering light filled the cockpit, moving and curving like waves in a bright ocean. The trip might take hours, and for that, Vader entered a deep meditative state. His breathing from his respirator filled the small compartment.

Now he needed to wait.

***​
The shaking of the TIE, its alarms screaming out, and the disturbance in the Force worked up Vader's slumber as the TIE rocked back and forth as if it were an enraged Bantha. He gathered himself into reality and got back to the steering wheel. It fought him even when he continued to press controls to keep the situation spiraling to danger.

In a last-ditch effort, before being dragged into a nearby star or planet, Vader threw the TIE out of hyperspace and into the familiar dance of stars circling his cockpit window. It spun while he pressed emergency buttons to get the fighter under his rule.

Yet it defied him when a spark of energy that occurred when the TIE prematurely exited out of hyperspace sparked and connected against Vader's suit. Electricity danced around him as life support systems were being shut down. When the continuity ceased, Vader's mechanical breath drew heavy as the control panel in his chest beeped excessively.

Whether it was a mixture of exhaustion on his part, even though he should be awake with his suit drugs pumping in him, the electrical attack on his suit, forcing it to enter a reactive repair subordinate, or both, it was beyond him. Because he drew tired and his eyelids in the shell that is his helmet closed.

The comfortable darkness enveloped him once more.

***​
Captain Kalla, head of one of Mongul the Great's slave ships, only sat in contempt despite his ship's brig being practically full. To some, like Gordanians, Sangtee, Khund, and other races that took part in the particular institution, it was a paycheck waiting to be cashed yet. For Kalla and his men, it was a meager income at best. In the Vega System, they could easily be set for a couple of weeks, Monguls Empire? Days at best.

The cargo on board isn't in really bad condition or consisting of anything no one would want. But for Mongul and his demands, it's never enough. It seems like one could stuff an entire planetary population to a ship and sell it to Mongul and it wouldn't be enough. Because of his games and such he has on Warworld, it seems like Kalla and his crew's effort is wasted when one of their products doesn't even last a single minute in the arena.

As easy as it might sound to skip the sector in pursuit of higher horizons, Kalla found it very difficult when Mongul himself took an interest in him and revered him as the best slave carrying captain in his personal fleet. Though one would suspect Mongul would personally see to it that he would get paid for his efforts, Mongul, especially nowadays, likes to cut costs left and right.

He rubbed his red, hairless chin when deciding whether or not desertion was acceptable rather than getting broke. Currently on his bridge, sitting in his captain's chair, and watching his crew conduct their duties on the ship, one of his crewmen hailed him over. "Hey boss! Think we got something."

Coming out of his doubtful stupor, he walked over to the scanning detection station and asked, "What's it this time?" He asked disinterestedly, thinking it's another freighter filled with hapless space travelers.

His crewmate showed him a screen that indicated a ship near their location, "Got a ship here," He turned to the screen, which digitized more information on their potential prey, "Starfighter size, single occupant, no life support systems," the crew explained, "Huh, never seen a ship that size before with a hyperspace engine before. Getting weird readings on it though."

Kalla clicked a side button that activated a blue holo-scan image of the small ship. With a pod-like capsule as a cockpit, and angled wings that were more like solar panels, the starship floated aimlessly in space. Though he doubted that any being in that ship would be worthy of putting them into the arena, the ship's configuration, however, piqued Kalla's interest. If they were to conjecture that the payment that will be received will be small in this time's delivery to Mongul, then maybe the sale of his interesting small starship would prove otherwise.

"Alright," Captain Kalla said finally and confidently, "bring her in; tell the hangar that they're going to have a guest soon."

"Right boss," the crewmate said and followed as instructed.

Kalla got himself out of the bridge and into the freighter's corridors. When entering the hangar, the small captured fighter was already pulled in by the ship's tractor beam and pulled down by a crane integrated in the ceiling. With a crewmate holding blasters in case the pilot did something funny to only find the pilot unconscious with some interesting cybernetics, he could help but smile as though he could already smell the cash flow.

***​
Darth Vader found himself horizontally inclined, and blinding artificial light pierced his comforting darkness. When opening his eyes, he felt his skin irritated by the glow, and his mouth was hugged by a foreign object. Looking around, when his vision cleared from the blazing whiteness, he found two red aliens in the same room he was in. The foreign object was actually an aspirator, and it was obvious that his helmet was off, explaining the lights bombarding his defenseless gray skin.

"Geez," one alien said, his attention away from the now awake Sith Lord, looking at a hologram of Vader's vitals. "This guy is a more practical toaster than a man."

The other alien shook his head and said, "Krodar the terrible on Warworld? Now that's a toaster."

"Yeah, but looking at one up close and personal is different, you know?"

The other alien messed with medical equipment on a table and replied, "Well, if you're interested in cyborgs, why not be one?"

"Now wait a minute." The alien objected."

This pointless and annoyed banter continued with Vader ignoring the loudmouth aliens and onto the surgical robot arm that was attached to the table he was on and was close to his chest.

Anger brewed in him; no one should ever dare see him without his helmet. Regardless if they were rebels, imperials, or bystanders, no one shall ever see his true face. Their curiosity had fated these aliens to die.

The surgical claw machine shook and then broke apart when Vader gripped it with the force. The sudden explosion made the aliens look at Vader to see their expressions of surprise turn into horror. They gasped when they saw the sickish yellow eyes of the Sith Lord, as if their worst nightmares had been summoned into reality. One went to draw a blaster from his hip, while the other attempted to flee to the door where a nearby communication station was. But both were not successful, for the dark side, as already sealed their fates. Vader held up a hand, and both aliens floated upward; the blaster in one's head dropped to the floor. Now suspended up in the air, before any of the aliens could cry for help or beg for their miserable, pathetic lives to be spared, Vader flicked his wrist, and both of the aliens' necks snapped like twigs.

Their bodies dropping into heaps, Vader, with the respirator that wasn't his own still on, took a moment to search for his own helmet. Finding it across the room, he commanded the force to bring it to his hands. The alien respirator, which sparked a moment of lack of oxygen, was cut short when he put on his mask and sealed it with his helmet cowl. His heavy breathing turned into the cold, steady mechanical breathing he has come to know off.

Now that his well-being is not in question, Vader backpedals on his recent memories in order to figure out what has happened. The last thing he properly remembered was his accident in hyperspace, which led to his cockpit sending a volt of electricity to his suit, which knocked him out of consciousness. Clearly, these aliens took him in and were examining him. He has never seen this species of alien before, but that has no concern for him. What did concern him was that his lightsaber wasn't on his belt anymore. Searching through the force, he found its location somewhere close to where he was, but that wasn't the only thing that he found.

The force felt different. He wasn't quite sure why. Was it the backlash of the destruction of Alderaan, the Death Star? Was it one of Obi-Wan's tricks against the Sith Lord? Vader can't find the answer at the moment, nor will he, as there are more pressing matters to draw attention to.

These aliens dared to be Vader, a Sith Lord, an enforcer of the Emperor's will, and try to dissect him like a bug. Not only that, but they took the lightsaber as well. They should have known better not to disrespect the Empire so blatantly. These aliens won't escape his wrath and judgment. He shall now search to find his lightsaber and take on these aliens. They will, of course, try to resist, but their pathetic weapons are no match for the power of the dark side. For it is now that these scoundrels were bound to a single fate the moment they dared to cross paths against Vader and the Empire.

One fate that the dark side will enforce.

***​
"Captain," The Great Mongul, ruler of his own empire, in this throne world in Warworld, in his grand palace, greeted his prestigious captain on a holo-projecter. "I want you to hear something..."

With a tap of the button on his throne, Mongul sent a recorded message from the arena's latest fight. The sound is a mere aftermath of it; it was the sound of his subjects booing their disappointment after Draaga finished off another worthless opponent. An opponent that, oh, so happened to be the last specimen Kalla brought in.

The red skinned captain shifted his tall collar so he could breathe easier as he heard the cries of disappointment and outrage through the holo-screen. "Great Mongul, please-," Kalla said, raising an arm for forgiveness with his voice adopting an appeasing tone.

Mongul had enough excuses among his top lieutenants. "A dozen creatures you've found," the Warlord snapped with annoyed fury, his voice booming across the holo-transmission. "And not one of them has been able to last more than two minutes with Draaga!"

Kalla pleaded with his lord, "I promise, the next one will be different!" Mongul shifted his look as he stopped his irritation. "He's a cyborg like Krodar the Terrible! With blackened armor that I have never seen before! And a weapon that we've tested that can cut through anything!" Kaala brought a fist forward for a threaticla emphasis, "That will surely give Draaga the fight of his life!"

Mongul arched his hairless, yellow brow and landed on the back of his throne. Kalla will always boast about his catches once in a while. Whether or not to believe in Kalla was in Mongul's mind, "Let me see him then," the warlord demanded to see this cyborg himself.

Kalla bobbled his head up and down excitingly. "Of course, my lord, of course!" The captain pressed a couple of buttons in his own chair, and Mongul assumed he was trying to bring up the screen where this cyborg was. But he didn't when the captain pressed the button over and over again and then hailed over someone off screen, "Where are those two idiots at?!" He barked at his crew, "I ain't getting a single response from those two from the medical bay!"

An off-site crew member replied, "Sir! No one's responding to that part of the ship!"

"What!?" Kalla exclaimed, "Thats not!-" Kalla's voice disappeared and was disrupted when Klaxions yelled all over the bridge and muffled Kaala's surprise.

Mongul tapped his finger over his throne's arm piece. "Kalla," he said annoyingly. "Talk to me, Captain, what's going on?"

Kalla looked back and forth between the holo-projector's camera and something off-screen. He gulped, "The... The cyborg, my lord, he's..."

"Sir!" Kalla's crew yelled out off screen, "He's at the main deck now! He's heading towards the bridge!"

Then a faint but hearable blaster fire could be heard. From the way it sounded and how Kalla looked back at the bridge's main door, it was coming fairly close. "Close the blast doors!" Kalla demanded, "Get's those security robots online!"

One crewmate was the bearer of bad news, "Boss, he already took down the bots."

"What!?" Kalla shook with horror, "Bring up the screen!" Kalla looked something across the room for a moment, and suddenly the alien's crimson-red skin turned a sickly pink with his eyes going open. Because of the security came's proximity to the holo-projector, Mongul could hear louder blaster fire, the sounds of a distinct humming noise of 'swooshing' and the intense cacophony of screaming.

"Now this was getting interesting..." Mongul murmured to himself. Of course, being capable of taking on an entire platoon of his security automa and his men is not noteworthy compared to what Draaga could do, but it was an interesting development nonetheless. He silently motioned for his chancellor, his trusted assistant, to record the holo-transmission so he might watch this again or perhaps even show the footage in the arena.

Kalla looked at Mongul through the holo-projector's camera with abject urgency and terror as his bridge crew got around equipment and bridge stations to train their blasters at the bridge's closed doors, "Please, my lord, send help! My men won't be able to take him!"

Mongul's feature's turned into a sly smile, and he tried to hide the best he could. "Of course, captain, help's on the way. I'll be sending my fatest ships to your location."

"Please, my lord," Kaala begged him, "You have to-" The moment Kaala began his pleading, the sounds of slaughter just outside the bridge went silent. Vaguely, the last poor bastard outside of the bridge seemingly dropped dead with a gurgling sound.

Then the bridge's doors moved forward a bit, as if they had willingly moved. One of the crewmates yelled out, "HE'S COMING IN!!" followed by the bridge flying forward, causing mayhem. Hitting crewmates and turning them into meaty paste or destroying control stations, one of the doors pointed straight towards the holo-projector, which caused the camera to fall out of place. The camera swayed from side to side, making the picture of the battle murky as the video feed buzzed with interference.

Mongul shifted himself forward to get a better picture. Despite the buzzing, the feeding coming in and out from clarity, and it's angle pointed downward to the floor, he could hear the battle regardless. Blasters firing all around, crewmembers yelling and screaming at each other, and whatever this cyborg was, what might have been the cyborg's weapon was active as he heard it 'whoosing' and 'weaving' around the scream of the crew. He heard the unmistakable sounds of heavy footsteps being made with mechanized breathing as well. The crew begged and pleaded with the cyborg as less and less blaster fire was made.

"Please don't NOO!"

"Wait WAIT!"

"I have a family!" one screamed out, "I HAVE A FAMI-AHHH!" All of their pleadings were cut down by the cyborg's weapon.

Unfortunately, when it was getting interesting, the feed finally gave up and the screen turned from a buzzing blurry image to a "Transmission Lost" image popping up on the holo-screen.

Mongul whirled his face at his chancellor, who was already trying to get the feed back, and spook through his earpiece comlink that was linked to the communications center, working their damn best to get Mongul's show back on track. He waited for at least thirty seconds by tapping his throne chair and drinking some wine from his goblet. Finally, the feed got back to the ship's bridge.

Despite the camera pointed at an angle where it would only show the floor and maybe the crememebr's waist and below, he saw enough. Bodies littered the floor, limbs smoking from cauterized stumps where they used to connect to people. Bodies with no arms or legs, everything chopped into bite-sized pieces. A thin layer of smoke lingered on the floor. There was no more blaster fire, no more screaming or whining. There is no life other than two.

When the camera regained control of itself, it's view showed two beings in front of it's sensor, though with its angle only the legs were shown. One being was most definitely not part of his crew, for it was covered in black polished armor. With gleaming black metallaic boots and padded black fabric material and a black cape touching the floor behind it, the being stood tall as its waist, and below was the only thing seeable at the moment. The mechanical sound of a breathing apparatus, with its heavy inahles and exhales, was the dominant sound in the bridge. The other being was suspended right in front of this cyborg, its legs trying to find ground with the sounds of choking that Mongul is very familiar with. From the uniform, Mongul knew that his other was, in fact, Kalla, most likely getting his life choked out of him by the cyborg.

Very interesting, or, to be more accurate, entertaining.

The cyborg finally spoke, its voice a hard and deep one with a layer of mechanical boom. "What system am I in? What sector have you taken me in!?" The cyborg demanded in a cold yet angry manner.

Kalla, with his face above the screen and being strangled, whimpered out, "We've...picked you up...on the end...of the omega...quadrant!"

"That has no meaning to me! Where is the nearest point of Imperial space!?"

"I...don't know...what.." Kalla tried to gasp for air, but it was fruitless. "Don't know what you're...t-talking about."

The cyborg paused and, understanding, said, "Then you have no use for me." Then Mongul heard the audible sound of a 'snap' that closely resembled the sound of a twig breaking. Followed by Kalla's lifeless body dropping onto the metal floor.

The cyborg stood there for a few moments and turned his body towards the camera. The camera, floated up to the cyborg's hand, to finally show the black figure's face.

"Psionic powers?" Mongul said inwardly, "How intriguing."

The camera, still rather buzzy, transmitted through interstellar space from what used to be Kaala's ship to Mongul's thrown room so that it could pixelate a picture of the figure. And it was glorious.

Holding the camera up to his face, the cyborg, like his bottom half, wore nothing but shiny, polished black armor. The mask had the same appearance of a skull, with two black glossy eye pieces, curved metallic cheekbones, a sunken nose piece, and grill vents that could be mistaken for teeth. All of it was topped off with an angled helmet cowl covering all but the front of the face. Below the neck was a chain that held together the black cape that was on top of the mantle of hardened armor.

By the looks of the cyborg and the skills that were shown in the slaughter, he would be a crowd-pleaser for sure!

"If there are eyes behind this camera," the cyborg said, "Then I demand them to speak!"

And straight to the point. "Well," Mongul replied back, "This is rather unexpected. May I ask whom I am talking to?"

The cyborg went silent for a moment, "I am Darth Vader, if that gains back your memory."

Never heard of him, "I'm sorry but that name doesn't ring a bell," he introduced himself. "I'm Mongul, Lord of Warworld. I'm sure you've heard of me?"

The cyborg, this Darth Vader, let his mechanical inhale and exhale cycle through before speaking, "Your name has no relevance to me, but your affiliation with these bandits will."

"Bandits?" Mongul repeated, "Well now, a hard and bold claim, the men you ruthlessly slaughtered were simply cargo transported in my personal fleet, surely you-,"

"THESE MEN!" The cyborg rudely interrupted Mongul, anger spewing, "Took in a loyal servant of the Emperor and tried to use me to their advantage and for that, they deserved death for their crimes against the Empire!"

"Do you know how little that narrows it down?" Mongul bluntly objected, "Do you know how many emperors and empires there are in the galaxy?"

"There is only ONE Emperor and ONE Empire!" Darth Vader stated, "Your ignorance proves your lack of usefulness, and whatever planet you're from will suffer against the Empire's wrath!"

Mongul grinned, he will no doubt make Darth Vader pay for being rude amongst his presence, yet he will make sure his subjects will see it, for a fantastic show. Yes he will indeed. "I'm sure you will do that, Darth Vader."

The cyborg didn't reply, the last thing the camera caught before it was destroyed was Darth Vader's black glove hand pressing its fingers on the lenses, then buzzing out of existence with a crackle, and then a "Transmission Lost" sign appearing.

***
Notes
Yep, another JLU Star Wars fanfic, this time involving Darth Vader, who clearly will involve Queen Maxima of Almerac soon. I just thought it would be fun. See a lot of vader fics but feel like they make him too sympathetic, I know vader is kinda like that but I feel too many fics just make him an anti-hero when clearly he isn't in the main story. You'll see a lot of fics have Vaader free slaves or whatever and that's fine but I feel like that's too much of Anakin when we know that he struggles to keep that side of him dead. I'm using the Vader suit from ROTS because i think it fucks hard. Comments are appreciated. This will draw upon Legends and Canon. We will definitely see Vader change up the DCAU universe for better or worse. See ya!​