The cool air of Bakura rasped past Count Dooku as he marched purposely across the landing platform. It was as if the black of his suit was deep enough that, under the sun, the gleams from its blue and white highlights threw in stunning juxtaposition. That cape flapped melodramatically behind him: the CIS insignia glaringly displayed to the scattered crowds—though mostly his back.

As Dooku approached the entrance to the secret Separatist base, the Attraction System flared suddenly to life within his vision. A tactical overlay materialized over his still-functioning Attraction System, pointing out potential threats and points of interest. A feeling that something might go wrong passed over him.

"Curious," Dooku whispered, his voice barely louder than his own breathing, which siphoned through the mechanical attachments on his suit. "It seems our Jedi friends have decided to pay us a visit."

Before he had even finished speaking his last words, two figures jumped from the shadows, igniting their lightsabers with the familiar snap-hiss. Tholme, the long-experienced Jedi Master, was already there, green blade held in defense. Sora Bulq, the Weequay Jedi, had barely restrained himself, holding his blue saber from the low ground.

"Count Dooku," Tholme called out, his voice holding firm under the tension he exuded. "In the name of the Galactic Republic, you are to be arrested."

The former colonel's laughter, amplified through the suit's vocoder, blared out over the platform. "Master Tholme, Master Bulq. How nice of you to meet me out in front. Although, I've got to say, your hospitality could use some improvement."

Sora Bulq stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. "Spare us your wit, Dooku. Your reign of terror ends here."

The Attraction System lit up warning signs in flashes, its computations superimposing the Jedi's power levels with Dooku's own hugely enhanced abilities. The result could have been nearly laughable.

"My dear Sora," Dooku said, a trace of real pity in his voice, "you simply don't know what you're doing."

With a leisurely wave of his wrist, Bulq was thrown backward, his body connecting with the duracrete wall in a sickening crump. Tholme paused a mere instance at the casual strength and catapulted back into the fray.

With supernatural grace, Dooku sidestepped the assault, almost leisurely in his glide. "Surely, you can do better than that, Tholme?"

Tholme pressed forward with his assault, green blade blurring as it did so. But in Dooku's eyes, augmented by the Attraction System, it might as well have been moving in slow motion. With contemptuous ease, Dooku caught Tholme's lightsaber between his armored fingers, the blade sputtering and dying against the impervious material.

"Impossible," Tholme gasped, his wide eyes filled with disbelief.

To this, Dooku responded with nothing more than a telekinetic shove against Tholme. The man skidded along the ground, his lightsaber clattering free.

"Oh, Tholme. Nothing is impossible. You've just neglected to broaden your perspectives."

Behind him, Sora Bulq, who had by now levered himself to his feet, came leaping at him. This time, the Count spared the barest instant to extend one arm back at his pursuer, bearing Sora to a halt with nothing but the Force.

"Admirable tenacity," he commented, spinning to face the floating Jedi. "But ultimately futile."

With a flicker of intent, Dooku bade Bulq's windpipe to constrict. The Weequay's eyes bulged, and he clawed at his throat desperately.

Tholme lurched onto his feet and reached out with the Force in desperation to free his comrade. "Dooku, stop this madness! This isn't you!"

For an instant, the piece of Dooku that remained the college student slowed. But the strategic mind, sharpened by decades of experience and augmented with the power of the Attraction System, knew there could be no quarter given.

"You're right, Tholme," Dooku said softly. "This isn't the Dooku you knew. I am so much more."

There was a sickening crack as Sora Bulq's neck snapped, his body going limp before crumpling to the ground. Tholme gave a hurtful cry and knelt down to try to retrieve his fallen lightsaber.

"You did well," Dooku said, almost gently. "But in the end… this was foolishness."

Dooku's hands shot out, lightning erupting from his fingertips. The Jedi Master screamed as the dark energy coursed through him, his body convulsing uncontrollably.

The lightning disappeared and Tholme hit the ground, smoke rising from his charred robes, his remaining eye showing both pain and incomprehension locking onto Dooku's impassive stare.

"Why?" he whispered, hardly audible.

Then Dooku knelt beside the fallen Jedi, his mechanically altered voice softening. "Because the galaxy is changing, old friend. And those that cannot adapt must fall by the wayside."

With a swift twist, Dooku activated his blue lightsaber, the blade humming with barely contained power.

It thrust down, and Tholme's eyes widened one last time before going dark forever.

Dooku stood, weapon deactivating, looking over them all. Updating: The Attraction System flashed updates of his strategic overview with the elimination of these Jedi threats.

"A pity," Dooku murmured to himself. "Such potential, wasted in service to a corrupt and dying Republic."

Already, Dooku's mind was racing ahead even as he turned toward the entrance of the base, plotting his next moves. The war was far from over, and there was yet much maneuvering to be done on the grand chessboard of the galaxy.

* * *

Count Dooku stood at the viewing window of his personal cruiser, his powerful silhouette in contrast with the background of the stars. The innards of his suit ominously breathed as he pondered over recent events; his meeting with Palpatine had been… illuminating.

"Computer," he commanded with a voice resonating with an artificial sense of depth, "show me the progress report."

The Attraction System sprang into life, sending an interface, holographic and viewable to Dooku alone as a sensory enhancement using his eyes. He ran down the data, a slight frown creasing his brow beneath the mask.

"Fascinating," he whispered. "The rate of progression is unprecedented."

Dooku's mind drifted back to that confrontation with Palpatine. The raw power of the Sith Lord at work had been staggering, even to him, with his vastly improved abilities. Yet, the defeat had not discouraged him. If anything, it had ignited a fierce determination.

"Now to think," Dooku ruminated aloud, "mere days ago, dispatched Tholme and Bulq with barely a thought... And now."

He clenched his fist as Force energy flowed through him like a rushing river. The Attraction System had provided him with mastery over wisdoms related to not only the secrets of the Jedi but also the Sith, which, of course, he would have never been able to gain in his lifetime through regular channels.

"Issue instruction: Computer, program training sequence Alpha-9,".

The room around him shimmered, transformed itself into a virtual battlefield. Spectral opponents materialized-Jedi Masters, Sith Lords, creatures of legend. Dooku powered up his blue lightsaber, its hum joining the steady rhythm of his artificial breathing.

As he fought the phantoms, Dooku's thoughts continued to burn. "The power of the Force," he deflected a barrage of lightning with contemptuous ease, "once so mysterious, now laid bare before me."

He moved with inhuman grace, each blow a perfect admixture of Jedi restraint and Sith aggression. The updates of the Attraction System flashed in his vision, focusing on the updates of techniques assimilated, power levels increasing.

"Curious," Dooku muttered, dispatching a virtual Mace Windu with a move that perfectly combined Vaapad with Djem So. "The boundaries between light and dark… they seem so arbitrary now."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

As the last of them dropped, Dooku deactivated his blade. "End simulation," he said, turning the room back to order.

He looked out over the viewport again, his reflection barely visible in the transparisteel. The mask looked back at him, an ode to the persona he had crafted.

"Computer," he said, his voice tinged with thoughtfulness, "theoretical analysis. My current power level versus Darth Sidious."

The system hummed, nerve synapses processing the mass of data. Then, after a few moments, a probability chart appeared.

Dooku chuckled—the sound somewhat distorted through his vocoder. "Still not enough, it seems. But soon."

He clasped his hands behind his back and the cape settled perfectly behind them. The part of him that had once been a college kid marveled at the situation. To have the sum total of Force knowledge at his fingertips, to grow in power through mere thought and focus—it was breathtaking beyond all he could have imagined.

Dooku regarded the Sith in some hard-to-place aqueous element; his gaze roved over his features with interest, then narrowed. "The Jedi," he mused, "sought understanding through meditation and study. The Sith, through passion and conflict. But this… this is evolution."

He turned from the viewport, striding towards the ship's command center. The Attraction System continued to flash updates; new abilities and insights were constantly being added to his repertoire.

"The devil thinks he has glimpsed true power," Dooku said, his mechanical voice echoing through the corridors. "He cannot begin to fathom what I am to become."

* * *

The canopy of Alaris Prime was green, as far as the eye could see; a sea of it, dotted with the massive wroshyr trees that were common to ground cover. Count Dooku stood just at the perimeter of one clearing, his essence alone a sharp juxtaposition to the vibrant excess of life around him. His respirator counterpointed the exaggerated ebb and flow of forest noise.

"My lord." General Grievous rasped closer, the metallic voice of his whirring cybernetic body approaching with predatory grace. "The Force Harvester is primed and ready."

His mask's features reflected in the dappled sunlight as Dooku turned toward him. "Excellent, General. And our… test subjects?"

From the shadows stepped Durge, the towering Gen'Dai bounty hunter. "The Wookiees are contained, Count. They won't know what hit them."

A cruel smile played across Dooku's lips beneath his mask. "Perfect. Let us proceed."

As they made their way to the command center, Grievous cleared his throat—a strangely organic sound considering his mechanical form. "There's something else, my lord. We encountered Skywalker and Kenobi on our way here."

Dooku paused, his cape billowing in the breeze. "Oh? And the outcome?"

Durge chuckled, a low, menacing sound. "We left them bleeding in the dirt. They've improved since Geonosis, but they're no match for us now."

"Is that so?" Dooku's voice betrayed no emotion, but internally, his mind raced. The Attraction System flashed to life in his vision, pulling up data on Skywalker and Kenobi's progress since the Battle of Geonosis.

They entered the command center, and a holographic display of the surrounding area sprang to life. Dooku studied it, his enhanced senses taking in every detail. "Initiate the harvester," he ordered.

The air crackled with energy as the Force Harvester hummed to life. On the display, Dooku watched as the life force was drained from the captured Wookiees; their anguished roars echoed through the forest.

"Magnificent," Grievous hissed, his eyes glinting with malevolent delight.

Dooku nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. The Attraction System was providing a most graphic illustration of the rapid advancements in Skywalker and Kenobi's skills. Their development truly was immense, even more impressive than he had calculated.

"My lord?" Durge's harsh voice cut into his reverie. "What do you sense?"

Dooku turned his eyes on his lieutenants. "I'm just... considering a particular consequence of your meeting with the Jedi."

The General moved his eyes into slits. "They are no threat to us, Count. We've proven that today."

"Mmm," Dooku mused, the sound hollow and contemplative in the depths of his mechanical voice. "But underestimation is a luxury none of us can afford."

He turned back to the holodisplay.

The Force Harvester continued its grim work. The Attraction System placed a tactical overlay over the image, bringing to mind the Hearts of Iron interface. Resources, troop movements, potential strategies—all at his fingertips.

"Grievous, I want a full report on your engagement with Skywalker and Kenobi. Every detail, no matter how insignificant it may seem."

The general cyborg nodded curtly. "As you wish, my lord."

As Grievous began his report, Dooku's mind drifted. The college student part of him marveled at the situation - standing here, commanding armies, wielding powers beyond imagination. Yet, the data on Skywalker's progress was… concerning.

"I can see why my old self fell to Skywalker," Dooku thought. "The fellow's potential is incredible." The Attraction System flashed a warning - if Skywalker's growth continued at this rate, he could become a significant threat and he already couldn't kill him thanks to the damned Force.

"Durge," the Count interjected as Dooku disrupted the report of Grievous, "I have a special assignment for you. I want you to shadow Skywalker and Kenobi. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. I want to know everything: movements, training, interactions, everything."

Durge nodded, a savage grin spreading across his features. "It will be my pleasure, Count."

That left Dooku alone to watch the silvery beams of the Force Harvester drain the final vestiges of life from the Wookiees. His Attraction System continued to hum in his mind, updating and installing new abilities and knowledge to his mind's development.

* * *

There is the silhouetted figure before the blood-red Thulean sky atop the ancient Sith ruins of Thule itself—Dooku. Huge was the outline of the Dark Reaper, his size almost inconceivable, which loomed over Dooku, bearing silent witness to the vision of the Separatists. His eyes were sharp and calculating, as the land through which he observed fell into darkness.

Heavy were the footsteps—their thuds symbolizing the arrival of Durge, the Gen'Dai bounty hunter, armor flaring light in this dimmed scene.

"My lord," Durge started almost excitedly, an edge of eagerness finally making his grated voice sound like it held that note, "our scouts have confirmed the Jedi's approach. Skywalker and Kenobi lead the charge."

Dooku turned as well, and was, in point of fact, smiling as he responded, "Excellent. And the Force Harvester?"

"Fully operational, Count. It needs nothing but your command."

Dooku nodded as a flood of possibilities rushed through his mind. The Force Harvester, which was a major component of the Dark Reaper, would suck the life energy out of their opponents, leaving them extremely weak for the final blow.

"What did you see with Skywalker and Kenobi as you were working on your surveillance, Durge?"

Durge chuckled; it was a low, dark sound. "Skywalker is brash, of course, but it would go without saying. He has assuredly become potent but in discipline, he is sorely lacking. Kenobi is thinking again, as always."

Dooku pointed up at the debris of the demolished structures. "Bring up our forces here and here. We'll have them converge on the Dark Reaper, where we can place Skywalker and Kenobi in a position isolated from their forces."

As Durge went to do his bidding, the Count's full attention was shifted back to the horizon from which the Jedi were due to arrive very soon. It stirred something in him—something between anticipation and nostalgia? He shook it off, putting his mind back to the task at hand.

The distant hum of Republic gunships grew louder, and then, at last, the first signs of battle broke out on the fringes of the ruined city. Dooku waited, the commotion drawing ever nearer.

Finally, there at last, emerging from the dust and the flying debris, two figures - Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi - appeared, lightsabers drawn.

"Dooku!" Anakin cried, anguish and resolution animating his voice. "I've come to the end of your reign of terror!"

The Count activated his own lightsaber, the blue light cutting a brilliant contrast with his blackened armor. "Ah, young Skywalker. Still so sure of yourself. Has anyone ever taught you anything from before?"

Obi-Wan stepped forward, his posture cautious. "We're here to terminate your operations, Count. The Dark Reaper will remain dormant forever."

"Oh, but you're too late, my old friend," Dooku replied, his voice almost sorrowful. "The Force Harvester is already at work. Can't you feel it? The very life being drained from this world?"

With a roar of defiance, Anakin charged forward, his lightsaber clashing against Dooku's in a brilliant display of skill and power. Obi-Wan joined the fray, his precise movements complementing Anakin's aggressive style.

As they fought, Dooku found himself impressed by their growth. Yet, he knew they were no match for him.

"You fight well," Dooku commented, as he parried a strike from Obi-Wan that simultaneously saw him force-pushing Anakin back. "But you cannot hope to match the power of the dark side."

The battle raged on, the lightsabers crossing amidst the ruins of some lost Sith Empire. Dooku's enhanced powers just kept him at their level long enough for it to be clear that their will was steadily hardening.

Finally, at the center of the battle, Dooku decided his quandary. He gestured, and the Dark Reaper came to some semblance of life, its hum filling the air with its dark refrain.

"Behold," he shouted, "the true power of the Sith!"

Dooku felt that he was almost able to see a flicker of doubt in the Jedi's eyes as the weapon pulsed with dark energy.

The air seemed to fill itself with electrical charge when the Dark Reaper began to hum, and its ominous presence cast a literal pall over the battlefield. Too bad for Dooku; to his own select surprise, neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan seemed affected by the weapon's lifedraining properties.

"Impossible," Dooku murmured, his mechanically altered voice giving away a trace of genuine astonishment.

Obi-Wan felt a wave of triumphant realization sweep over him at the change in Dooku's bearing and was unable to prevent all traces of satisfaction from his inquiry. "You underestimate the resourcefulness of the Jedi, Count. We've learned much since our last encounter."

Anakin actually clenched his teeth, his blue eyes twin flares of determination. "Your Dark Reaper is just another Sith trick. And like all tricks, it's got its weakness."

Dooku's mind raced, the Attraction System silently feeding him tactical data—the countermeasures had been rumored of long ago, but it was one thing to know that and another to see. All of this was part of the grand deception, the huge fooling war dance that he initiated. A seed of genuine concern had started to take root in his mind.

"Very impressive," Dooku acquiesced, his lightsaber hissing as he moved into a different position. "But don't think for a second that this takes things out of your hands. You're still not even close to understanding the power of the dark side."

The combat had resumed. The lightsabers were now cracking together with raw skill and power. Dooku's heightened powers drove him on and would not allow himself to be bested by the two Jedi, but he could sense the shift in the battle tides.

With every blow that Anakin sent his way, the attacks became more furious in an upward spiral of raw power. The unleashed potential in the young Jedi rolled out before Dooku's eyes like a blinding nova of Force energy that threatened to burn down even his great walls of augmented defenses.

"Your anger gives you strength, young Skywalker," goaded Dooku, parrying a particularly vicious blow. "But can you control it?"

Anakin's reply was not in words, but in action. For a split second, he let rip a Force push that seemed like it would shake the very foundations of these ancient ruins. Dooku found himself thrown back, his armor scraping against the stone floor as he tried to stand.

And Obi-Wan expertly scrambled through a series of movements, closing as quickly as he could on the control panel of the Dark Reaper in its moment of vulnerability. "Anakin, keep him busy!" he yelled, his hands dancing over the surface of the alien technology.

Dooku's eyes widened behind his mask. This was not in the plan. The Separatists were not supposed to lose like this. He started to move forward to intercept Obi-Wan, but Anakin was there, his lightsaber a blur of motion.

"Your reign of terror ends now, Dooku," Anakin said, his voice hard with an edge that sent a chill down Dooku's spine.

For the first time since he'd changed, Dooku felt a flicker of actual fear. Anakin's power seemed to grow literally with each passing second, a source without a bottom of Force energy. Lights flashed constantly in Dooku's peripheral vision, the Attraction System recalculating probabilities, outcomes, alternatives.

It was with one last wild-ass-overhead thrust, though, that Anakin punched the weapon completely out of the Count's hand, the Count's lightsaber skittering away across the floor. Then, simultaneously, the stopping of the Dark Reaper was heard with a yell of triumph by Obi-Wan.

Dooku fell to his knees, his sky spinning. Even though vicarious, in the overall scheme of things, this loss smacked him with unnervingly real surprise. Above him, Anakin stood poised to deal the final blow.

"Do it," Dooku managed to say, his mechanical voice still normal. "Strike me down & fulfill your destiny."

Anakin's hand shook, the dark temptation clear in his eyes. But Obi-Wan's voice cut him free from the trance. "Anakin, no! This isn't the Jedi way."

The moment hung on ragged breath, a turning point for the future of the galaxy. Finally, Anakin lowered his weapon. "You're right, Master. He'll face justice for his crimes."

The Jedi approached to secure him, but Dooku's mind raced. The raw, unbridled potential that had been on display with Anakin was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The Force itself seemed to protect the boy, to shield him from harm, to push him toward some great destiny.

No matter how intricate his plan might be, Dooku realized that this wild card would yet have to be accounted for. Anakin Skywalker was more than just a powerful Jedi; he was a focal point of the Force itself, a nexus of possibilities that could reshape the very fabric of the galaxy.

How many more favorites will The Force have?