Across the arid landscape of Geonosis, Count Dooku, at a towering height and in his lean blue and white armor akin to Darth Vader's, scouted the terrain with razor-sharp eyes—baked above by a blazing sun and desperate shadows where the dust scattered on the ground. And as he walked nearer to where Jango and Durge had taken their positions, so would his senses heighten with The Attraction System in work, absorbing every little and big detail coming into view.

Dooku's mechanical voice cut through the din of battle as he addressed his cyborg general. "Grievous, take your forces and secure Jango's position. We cannot allow his absence to compromise our strategy."

Grievous, his metallic frame tensed for action, nodded curtly. "It will be done, my lord. The Jedi will rue the day they crossed our path."

As Grievous departed, Dooku felt a lance of regret for Jango Fett's death. The bounty hunter was invaluable; but war called for its due. He shoved the thought off, preparing to enter the battle.

Suddenly, The Attraction System flared to life in Dooku's mind. A holographic interface materialized before his eyes, shifting the view of the battlefield into a Hearts of Iron 4-like strategic map. Troop movements, resource allocations, and play-outs of possible scenarios scrolled through his mind with crystal clarity.

"Fascinating," Dooku murmured, his eyes aglow with fresh insight. "The entire war effort laid bare like a game board."

With this unprecedented view of the conflict, Dooku's strategic acumen soared to new heights. He hastily spotted weaknesses in the Republic's formations and exploited them with surgical precision.

"Tactical droid," he called out, "redirect our forces to these coordinates. The Jedi are overextended; we'll crush them between our lines."

As his orders were relayed, Dooku watched with satisfaction as the tide of battle dramatically changed in favor of the Separatists. The usually chaotic skirmishes suddenly took on a very well-orchestrated dance of destruction, with Dooku its puppet master.

Yet, even as victory seemed within grasp, a gnawing concern troubled Dooku's conscience. Powers vastly increased and new strategic insight like this were a potential threat to his relationship with Darth Sidious. He was told by the Sith Lord, and those words kept echoing in his ears: there could only be two Sith, a master and an apprentice.

"What will Sidious make of these developments?" Dooku wondered, his brow furrowing beneath his helmet. "Will he see me as an asset or a rival?"

Dooku knew he needed to tread carefully. Ambition was burning in his mind for dominance within the galaxy—fanned by the ideals of the merged college student persona. But he was equally aware of the danger of emerging too strong, too fast.

"I must temper my actions," he decided, "show enough competence to be valuable, but not so much as to arouse suspicion."

With this resolution in mind, Dooku adjusted his strategy. He deliberately introduced minor setbacks into his plans, creating the illusion of a hard-fought victory rather than an overwhelming rout.

As the battle of Geonosis drew to a close, Dooku had yet another glaring problem to attend to. The Attraction System had handed him powers and insight beyond his wildest dreams, but it also put him in a precarious position.

"The real war," he thought aloud, gazing out over the destroyed landscape, "will be fought in the shadows, balancing my own ambitions against Sidious's grand plan."

* * *

The smoke cloak parted to the unearthly maze of the Separatist stronghold, where insistence—here—on the path to freedom lay Suddenly blocked to Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, and Padmé Amidala. Suffice to say that across from them stood a figure both alien and far too familiar, encased in that torturing suit of armor—courtesy of the mysterious Attraction System—Count Dooku, his dark and dangerous presence oozing from the blackened armor, almost vaderlike in styling save for the blue and white accents.

The breathing echoed mechanically down the corridor—an incessant, rhythmic sound that made the spines of the would-be escapees shake. His CIS insignia was clear as day, outlined on his leg flanks and billowing cape, never mind which position he would place himself in during the coming conflict.

Anakin's eyes opened wide before Dooku; his face a mélange of horror and interest. It was as if he had seen a mirror version of himself and what could become of him: a mighty user of the Force that turned to the dark side. This young Jedi felt an attraction to this other half of himself, an attraction that thrilled and scared him simultaneously.

The diplomat, Obi-Wwan, advanced gingerly. "Count Dooku," he said, with an even voice—steady, but for the tension curling in the air around him. "I see you've undergone some… changes since you left the order." His hand hovered near his lightsaber, ready to swish out in defense again if it became necessary.

The voice of Dooku, mechanically modified, laughed through the space, a sneer fixed in his tone. "And times without fail, Master Kenobi. Indeed, I have grown beyond what you once knew. The power now at my disposal far exceeds anything you could ever imagine."

As Padmé retreated to stand a little behind, Anakin and Obi-Wan activated their laser swords rather hastily, the whirring sound of energy blades supplementing the electric atmosphere. Dooku simply drew on his cool dagger and activated his very own blue laser, the reflection of which flashed in his armor.

"Young Skywalker," he finally addressed him, "I sense the conflict within you. You see what you could become, don't you? The power, the freedom from the Jedi's outdated code. Join me, and I can show you the true nature of the Force."

Anakin tightened his grip on his lightsaber, and his voice shook ever so slightly as he responded, "Never, Dooku. Your promises are no more substantial than your loyalty was once to the Republic."

The Sith Lord flourished his cape aside abruptly, and Dooku now went into a fighting stance—his mastery over all seven forms of lightsaber combat known by the poised readiness. "Then let the blades decide," he declared. "And we shall see which path truly leads us to victory."

Dooku faced off against Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi. A chill of blue radiance from their lightsabers flashed on the metallic walls like a dance of shadows to the complicated interplay of combat.

Dooku moved with fluid grace; his movements were testament to his expertise in all seven lightsaber forms. Yet there was something measured in the strikes, a sense of purposeful restraint that belied his true potential at command.

"Come now, young Skywalker," Dooku sneered, his voice mechanically altered and echoing off the corridor. "Surely the Chosen One can do better?

Enraged, Anakin leaped at Dooku, his lightsaber whipping through a series of wild, aggressive arcs. "I'll give you a challenge, Dooku!"

The battle raged on. With the Attraction System, everything was within Dooku's grasp, yet now he wanted to push against the very weave of fate.

"Anakin, focus!" Obi-Wan shouted, his tone constricted with worry. "Do not let him goad you!"

Dooku parried Obi-Wan's strike with ease, his lips curling into a thin, arrogant smile. "Wise counsel, Master Kenobi. But can even your wisdom stand against the tide of fate?"

Dooku, always on guard for any weakness, saw that this was his best chance. Swift as light, he wheeled to cut Anakin down, his blue blade stroking in an arc for the young Jedi's throat.

It was as if time itself quickened as the Force stirred. Obi-Wan, summoning a reserve of strength he did not know he possessed, lunged at the last possible moment to block the blow.

"No!" Anakin cried out, stumbling backward, shock wide in his eyes.

Dooku stepped back, his mind reeling from the implications of what had just happened. The Force had indeed protected its Chosen One, but in a way he had not foreseen.

"Most interesting," Dooku mused, his voice betraying a hint of fascination. "It seems the Force works in mysterious ways, doesn't it?"

Obi-Wan stood protectively in front of Anakin, lightsaber held high. "This ends now, Dooku. Surrender, and you'll be treated fairly."

The laugh that resounded from Dooku was most definitely unwelcome; it sent chills running up the Jedi's spines. "Oh, my dear Obi-Wan, this is far from over. In fact, I believe it's only just begun."

With a sweep of his cape, Dooku retreated into the shadows, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan to ponder what had transpired. His mind was abuzz with knowledge fresh and new, with possibilities, as he vanished from view.

'The Force protects him, but not in the way I expected,' Dooku thought. 'This changes everything. The game is far more complex than even Sidious realizes.'

As he walked to his ship, a smile curled up Dooku's lips. In front of his eyes, there flickered The Attraction System display with new options and strategies unfolding.

* * *

There was the sun, dipping low on the Geonosian horizon, waning in an orange light that burned the battlefield now littered with the remnants of everything. The illusion was palpable to him. Weaving the galaxy to believe that the Republic had scarcely emerged from the battle, declared an agonizingly hard-fought pyrrhic victory. But lurking underneath the lie was a devastating truth: it was the Confederacy of Independent Systems that had delivered the grievous wound to the Jedi and the Republic, that had brought them to the cusp of a war to remake the galaxy.

The dust hardly had time to fall before Dooku convened a meeting of his most trusted leaders in an improvised command center built from the booth and debris. Standing by him was Sev'rance Tann, poised with a sharp gaze reflecting the wild bulbs of the plunged lightsabers and smoldering remains of droid battalions. General Grievous, his mechanical joints whirring subtly, lounged in a chair constructed of twisted metal, while Asajj Ventress lingered in the shadows, her two crimson blades aglow with faint malevolence. Durge stood stoic, arms crossed, ready for what might come next.

"The dust has settled, now's the time to discuss our strategy," Dooku proclaimed, his voice downright authoritative and his armor's mechanical enhancements adding further weight to it. Before them stood the CIS insignia off of a backdrop of destruction.

Grievous leaned forward, his many lightsabers catching the light as he spoke. "The Jedi are weakened, Count. We should strike now with full force! A direct attack on Coruscant will show them once and for all the futility of resistance!"

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A half-smile played about Dooku's mouth, but his amusement was slowly replaced by thoughtfulness. "All this ambition, General. And an opportune time of execution. We must not hasten from here. The Jedi still have their allies, and while we have dealt them a staggering blow, we must consolidate our forces."

Ventress cut in, smoothing her voice with those chilling remarks. "Dooku's right. The resolve of the Jedi is fragile, and by exploiting it, we can make them suffer repeated, devastating blows. We could start with Obi-Wan and Anakin—target their figureheads—and inflict fear and chaos at the same time."

"Indeed." Dooku nodded thoughtfully, casting his mind back through their duel in earnest in the darkened corridors—a fair reading of their strength. "There couldn't have been a more purposeful duel, the one with Skywalker and Kenobi. They battle now under the cruel light of truth: that they cannot beat the CIS with their current strength. Encounters such as this one must be instructional to them if they are ever to hope to survive the likes of me."

The more the talks continued, the more Dooku's mind seemed to drift back to that battle. He had allowed them, in that duel, to push at him; it was an exhibition of overwhelming power meant simply to illustrate the gulf between them and their potential. The deliberate, almost theatrical quality of his motions was not about defeating them, but about engendering in their hearts a burning fire of ambition.

"There is no limit in potential the likes of Anakin Skywalker," Dooku mused, and a flare of nearly appreciative thought pierced through his cold hatred for the Jedi unpredictability. He remembered the way the other's blade had barely even touched his own, desperation so clear in the younger Jedi's eyes. The type of fear they felt was what he wanted. It was all part of something bigger, in a way, to let them grow toward it, coming to the realization of having to overcome the constraints if they were to stand a chance against such power.

Sev'rance, who was looking at her master's expression, asked: "Will you keep testing them, Master? Measure their advancement? The result could be dangerous."

"No, it will work to our advantage. The Jedi often shield themselves from the reality of their own inadequacy. If they live in a fantasy of invincibility, they will be caught off-guard when the moment arises. Skywalker and Kenobi must learn that weakness is perilous, just as strength can be a double-edged sword."

Durge broke in, "Then let us create situations where their weaknesses are brought to light. We can bait them into traps, show them that their very bravado is undermined by the darkness they fight against."

"Exactly," Dooku offered, threading what seemed a smile across his face as he thought of the gleaming strategic implications. "Let us provoke conflict, alienate the order from the Republic leadership, and the Jedi shall meet their end."

Conspiracy cast, Dooku arose before the closing assembly, harrowed by the grip of destiny.

* * *

The cityscape of Coruscant towered above him as he was dressed to the nines as the usual count. Dooku proceeded to a darkened chamber nestled within the heart of the galaxy-focused capital. Electricity murmured in the air, unease threading down the corridors as he drew nearer to Sidious' iconic figure, shimmering under the dim lights.

"Lord Tyranus," Sidious crooned. His voice was slick, similar to oil. "From Geonosis, you have returned. Speak of your triumphs."

Dooku met his master's gaze coolly, hiding everything that gave testimony to his increasing power. "Mmm, educational, my lord," he opened, sweeping his hand to an ornate seat. "Masters Mace Windu and Yoda were there, and, while strong, they used their powers without vision." The dark lord's eyes glimmered with intrigue as he focused on Dooku.

"Do you know how you managed to hold up against two of the greatest Jedi Council masters?" Sidious questioned, interested in the answer as it would satisfy his own ego of power.

At the thought of the duel, the corners of Dooku's mouth were drawn back by a hint of smile. "With your Force amp augmenting my powers, with them I not only held my ground but actually challenged the two of them. In the end… I still had to flee. They are still two of the greatest Jedi in the order, after all." he ended, pretending he wasn't that much stronger then he actually was.

Sidious reclined in his chair, looking at the former with a careful consideration of each of Dooku's words. He detected that his apprentice probably had more power now than he did. Sidious knew he would need to get stronger. "And Skywalker and Kenobi?" he asked, curiosity entwined with scrutiny.

"They were disappointing," Dooku said, in a very negative way. "I did not duel with both of them; I tutored. I found Anakin, particularly—-a raw spark of ambition, unchanneled, and therefore dangerous.'" He let Sidious mull over the sentiment. "I taught him to center his mind, to identify the blackness that resides inside each of us. He can still be turned into the most useful ally … or the most terrible enemy."

As the meeting progressed down to the very profound, Sidious noted the possible implications of what Dooku was saying. "This young Skywalker is a tempest, dangerous yet valuable. We must make sure he's cultivated in our favor," Sidious repeated with newfound sharpness to the older man, making him aware of what was at stake.

Dooku felt the tension in the air thicken with the possibilities of treachery and ambition. 'I have to stay sharp; my master doesn't easily let go of control nor does he just trust my burgeoning power, and Skywalker is still my replacement.' He sagely nodded to himself as he utilized the Attraction System to analyze Sidious's demeanor; one underestimated the dark lord at his own peril.

"And how do you intend to handle the Hutts?" Dooku asked, resetting the conversation to where he wanted it.

Sidious smiled, opening a window on the omissions on his dark judgment. "The Hutts command, if that may be the term, great power and resources. With their allegiance, we gain footing for stability. Our promises must appeal to young Jabba with murmurings of our knowledge and future."

"I shall use my powers," Dooku replied, all charisma. "With your advice, I will align their interests with ours." Dooku understood that to effect the destabilization of the Republic, the Hutts had to be brought to their side.

The shadows of the chamber now surrounded them as they spoke of the elaborate web of diplomacy it would take to win favor among criminal syndicates. Doubt and ambition coiled around them, each wishing to outmaneuver the other, in a game where stakes were nothing less than galactic dominion.

As that conference wound to its conclusion, Dooku felt the weight of the secret he harbored bear down fully upon him. He'd tasted the simmering potential brewing in him—the ability to remake not only his own fate but that of the galaxy. With every step, he was calculating the moment of inevitable betrayal by Sidious—a moment when he would release all of his real power into his face and take his rightful place out in front of their dark business.

* * *

Count Dooku found the one rare respite within the plush confines of his private chambers, far removed from the machinations of galactic entanglements. The room was bathed in the glow of Tion moons, redly decorated to mirror something of luxury and minimalism suggestive of a man of Dooku's sensibilities. After the battle of Geonosis, everybody needed rest.

Dressed in silken pajamas of a deep burgundy color that contrasted with his hair of silver, Dooku reclined on an expansive bed. Instead of the strategies and power games that usually preoccupied his mind, now it was more immediate, more concerns of the flesh. Sev'rance Tann lay in the bed beside him, her bluish skin seeming to shimmer slightly in the low light.

Sev'rance looked into Dooku's crimson eyes and drew a finger along the Count's jaw slowly. "My lord," she purred, her voice a mix of reverence and lust, "your strategic brilliance is matched only by your… other talents."

At this, a very small smile—something rare coming from Dooku—broke out on his face. His hand found the small of Sev'rance's back, drawing her closer. "Oh, my dear," he rumbled lowly, "in matters of war and pleasure, precision is key."

Their lips met, the kiss passionate and equally powerful. Sev'rance dug her fingers into Dooku's silver hair as his hands roamed her lithe form. The tension gathering between them through countless war room meetings and covert operations found its release in one effortless move.

The intensity of this encounter intensified the room. Like a wraith out of the darkness, Asajj Ventress, Dooku's assassin and apprentice, slipped into the gloom. The glowing paleness of her skin twinkled and her eyes flashed, mixed with jealousy and something akin to hunger.

"Master," Ventress intoned in a voice that sounded more of a hiss, "how good to see you've started without me." She slithered and prowled toward the bed, moving like fluid.

Dooku and Sev'rance turned to regard the newest arrival. The Count's face did not change, but his eyes sparkled with suppressed humor. "Asajj," he said, "your timing is… impeccable."

Sev'rance stiffened at the interruption, but then forced herself to relax at the possible implications of what had just been said. She held out a hand to Ventress, beckoning her nearer. "Come," she husked, "there's room for one more in this… strategic alliance."

There was no need to ask more from Ventress. She slipped in between them on the bed, her wiry body interlacing with theirs. It became then a dance of passion and power, each body fighting to be in control while submitting to mutual pleasure.

As the night wore on, their encounters ebbed and flowed like the tides of war they so often navigated. Dooku, the ever-tactician, finds himself at the center of a battle not fought with lightsabers and the Force but with caresses and heated breaths.

In the aftermath, as Sev'rance and Ventress lay spend on either side of him, Dooku let himself reflect for a moment. Those dalliances tasted sweet, but they served a long-term purpose. They cemented loyalties, assuaged egos, and kept his greater ambitions from growing too heavy.

It was with the first light of dawn that Dooku gently untangled himself from the mess of human limbs. He stood, a silhouette against the growing light, his mind already turning to the day's impending challenges.