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[The lifeless bodies of two freshly slain Jedi knights lay at his feet. Grievous, extinguishing his four lightsabers, clears them and the distance between himself and Chancellor Palpatine of the Republic in a single stride. He had succeeded. The old man would be captured in a matter of mere seconds... if it weren't for an unexpected interruption of consciousness.
Roused by the continual shriek of unfamiliar sirens, Grievous opens his golden yellow eyes but otherwise remains perfectly motionless. He becomes instantly aware of four walls enclosing him into a very tight, dark space. He doesn't have a nose but the earthy scents of wood and dirt reach the olfactory receptors deep inside his organic brain. With the last vestiges of skin around his eyes, he can sense a damp chill in the air. This is not right. This is not where he is meant to be.
In the backyard of 502 Ricardo Street, the roof of the doghouse erupts in a storm of shattered wood from the blow of a heavily-taloned, durasteel foot. This is followed by a flash of silver-white as Grievous retracts the foot then leaps straight into the air. Several feet away he lands on all fours like a wild cat in the snow where he freezes once more, though not from the cold. For once in his post-organic life, Grievous is more shocked than enraged about a completely unexpected hindrance in his strategy. But the anger soon rises to its rightful place as his hands discover a chain around his neck connecting him to the newly demolished doghouse. It has occurred to him that there are several modifications of his body that are either missing or downgraded. Under a gently falling snow, Grievous rises to full height. Easily popping the steel links of his collar with sharp cybernetic claws, he advances slowly toward the nearest edifice---the house---his eyes fixed in a weighted stare.
Soon, the backdoor is missing, rendered from its frame, hinges and all. Residents will find that an eight-foot-tall creature constructed of ghostly pale metal alloy has infiltrated the home and is destroying every photograph in sight, crushing glass underfoot. When encountered he straightens and delivers a penetrating stare with striking yellow eyes. He snaps in a voice that is both organic and robotic.]
Identify yourself.
PHONE
[Grievous has discovered a ludicrously primitive communication device, and while it pains him to do so, he has no other option but to use it. Every ounce of self control is necessary to conduct himself calmly and to not simply crush the receiver in his hand. His voice carries inherent mechanical distortion but his words are abundantly clear and venomous.]
You. If you are hearing this message, I demand a prompt response. Direct me to the authorities of this compound so that I may properly eviscerate them. In the abduction of a supreme commander and the theft of my property, those responsible have demonstrated staggering levels of stupidity that will not be tolerated by any means.
Furthermore, what is that infernal racket!
**********
Roused by the continual shriek of unfamiliar sirens, Grievous opens his golden yellow eyes but otherwise remains perfectly motionless. He becomes instantly aware of four walls enclosing him into a very tight, dark space. He doesn't have a nose but the earthy scents of wood and dirt reach the olfactory receptors deep inside his organic brain. With the last vestiges of skin around his eyes, he can sense a damp chill in the air. This is not right. This is not where he is meant to be.
In the backyard of 502 Ricardo Street, the roof of the doghouse erupts in a storm of shattered wood from the blow of a heavily-taloned, durasteel foot. This is followed by a flash of silver-white as Grievous retracts the foot then leaps straight into the air. Several feet away he lands on all fours like a wild cat in the snow where he freezes once more, though not from the cold. For once in his post-organic life, Grievous is more shocked than enraged about a completely unexpected hindrance in his strategy. But the anger soon rises to its rightful place as his hands discover a chain around his neck connecting him to the newly demolished doghouse. It has occurred to him that there are several modifications of his body that are either missing or downgraded. Under a gently falling snow, Grievous rises to full height. Easily popping the steel links of his collar with sharp cybernetic claws, he advances slowly toward the nearest edifice---the house---his eyes fixed in a weighted stare.
Soon, the backdoor is missing, rendered from its frame, hinges and all. Residents will find that an eight-foot-tall creature constructed of ghostly pale metal alloy has infiltrated the home and is destroying every photograph in sight, crushing glass underfoot. When encountered he straightens and delivers a penetrating stare with striking yellow eyes. He snaps in a voice that is both organic and robotic.]
Identify yourself.
PHONE
[Grievous has discovered a ludicrously primitive communication device, and while it pains him to do so, he has no other option but to use it. Every ounce of self control is necessary to conduct himself calmly and to not simply crush the receiver in his hand. His voice carries inherent mechanical distortion but his words are abundantly clear and venomous.]
You. If you are hearing this message, I demand a prompt response. Direct me to the authorities of this compound so that I may properly eviscerate them. In the abduction of a supreme commander and the theft of my property, those responsible have demonstrated staggering levels of stupidity that will not be tolerated by any means.
Furthermore, what is that infernal racket!
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