He can read minds! Padmé noted to herself; the question lingering in her mind since the previous night was finally answered outright, and by Vader himself, no less! And perhaps, without Vader even realizing it. She had some doubts about the whispers being true, but he had confirmed her suspicions. He affirmed what she had thought last night and everything Bail had told her. It was not just a myth created by fear or a story imagined by the most ridiculous of minds. Darth Vader could actually read minds! He had admitted it! Vader confessed to seeing into Rush's mind, and although she felt completely amazed by his abilities, she found herself petrified. How powerful was someone to possess such a talent? How could they possibly win against him? Was her mind at risk even now?
"What I think is my personal business, Vader!" Rush snapped, his earlier confidence overshadowed by distress and embarrassment. "Don't cast me as the villain simply because I'm human! At least I'm not a vile monster like you!"
"You flatter me, Clovis," Vader replied flatly, with a hint of arrogance. "But unlike you, I don't have trouble finding women to warm my bed."
The room fell silent, so quiet that you could hear a womp rat scurrying within the old wall, likely even those in the basement below.
What?
Padmé found herself frozen in a dimension that no longer felt like her office, struggling to process the words. To say that she was surprised or even shocked by Vader's comment would be the understatement of her lifetime– or any lifetime, if she were being honest. Those words just didn't seem plausible coming from Vader's mouth, to the point that she questioned whether he had truly said it. Had Darth Vader really just uttered what she thought he said? Had he actually revealed that detail about himself? It was true that it felt wrong coming from him for a million different reasons, but above all else, she could never have imagined Vader involving himself in such... acts. Nor did she want to. Darth Vader didn't seem capable of possessing such conventional qualities... of being involved with anything besides war and torture. He didn't seem able to simply be... a man. Not a normal one, anyway. He couldn't be. Not one who would have things like a partner... or partners... or a bed...
"Is that before or after you kill them?" Rush spat after a prolonged moment, refusing to surrender in his losing battle just yet. The Sith didn't miss a beat; his cockiness only seemed to grow as he took another step around the opposing man. "Necrophilia is for those incapable," Vader laughed darkly, before turning to face Rush. "Which I assure you I am not." Vader waited a moment before stepping away, even turning his back on the other man. "Unlike you, Clovis, I don't need to beg like a starving mutt for the attention of some arbitrary female." He laughed again at the thought. "And when those women inevitably reach their end, it is only after they are thoroughly satisfied." He paused, his arrogance undeniable now, turning back around and raising his hooded head slightly. "Of course, I'm sure that's something you have no experience with."
The statement seemed to strike a particular nerve. "I have plenty of experience pleasing women!" Rush screamed, the man reaching his breaking point. The Sith nodded. "And I'm certain it's a tolerable five seconds for them."
That statement was the final nail in the coffin. Rush finally broke, his face hot with anger as he lunged at the Dark Lord, hands balled into fists and eyes wild. It was then that Padmé realized what Vader was doing: the uncharacteristic exchange had not been in vain but had been executed with careful planning. Vader was urging Rush on, desiring this exact scenario to unfold, knowing precisely what to say to get what he wanted. It was a losing battle before it even began; Vader was prepared for the attack before Rush had even moved. With little chance for any other outcome, Rush found himself in a familiar predicament, Vader's black-gloved hand clamped tightly around his throat… but this time, Padmé said nothing.
"Not this again," Vader said, amused, almost scolding the man in his grasp like a misbehaving student. "I thought you would have learned your lesson."
He slowly tightened his grip, Rush's breathing becoming shallow, and a choking sound rising from his throat. The man's face began to turn a shade of chalky blue instead of his usual beige complexion, as he struggled against the monstrous grip on his neck, but he was unable to break free and began to lose consciousness. His eyes rolled back into his head, his hands falling to his sides, and his whole body slouching towards the floor. He made a low gurgling sound, one deep within the back of his throat, followed by one last final breath, but just before he fell completely unconscious, Vader threw him to the ground with brutal force. Rush's body slammed into the hard ground with a loud thud, his head snapping to a near-fatal angle and each leg contorting into an awkward position. Both Padmé and Dormé screamed as the man's skull rattled against the floor, while the Sith hardly seemed to notice it all. "Now get out," Vader growled from above his prey. "Unless you want another contusion to match the one I gave you last night. I have spared your miserable life, so heed my warning. You may have survived this and our last encounter, Clovis, but I assure you, you will not survive the next."
Rush wheezed beneath the Sith Lord, for a moment unable to move. He simply stared at the high ceilings of the Nubian suite, not at all seeing the vision in front of him. He clutched his aching airway until his color began to return to normal, and finally, he returned to a state of awareness. His eyes swam back into focus, and he leaned forward into a sitting position before attempting to push himself off the ground, only to fall back down a moment later.
"Now, Clovis," Vader hissed. The statement was a deadly command.
Rush's already hindered breath hitched in his throat as he stumbled to his feet, bracing himself against the desk. He glanced at the Sith for no more than two seconds before taking a feeble step forward, crossing the room in a vastly different manner than he had entered, never once looking back as he staggered out the doorway.
As Rush vanished through the door, he left the two women alone with Vader. The Sith had reverted to his customary silent yet deadly demeanor, becoming nothing more than a living statue. He remained still for a long moment, and neither Padmé nor Dormé moved. It felt like a suspended halo, an intermission to madness. Padmé could hear Dormé's slow gasps echoing behind her, the woman struggling to control her breathing. Padmé felt her heart pound wildly in her chest, her eyes locked on the Sith as she waited with intense anticipation for his next move. The entire ordeal weighed like a grueling tightness on her chest. It felt like ages before the Sith showed any sign of life, seeming to not even breathe as his head turned in her direction. He managed to hold her gaze for a moment, unable to look anywhere except at the emptiness beneath his dark hood. Then, without uttering a word, Vader's head turned back to its original position, and he began walking toward the exit of her office.
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