Palpatine watched the surveillance feeds from inside the factory with quiet satisfaction.
On the screens, row after row of automated assembly lines hummed with precision.
Countless robotic arms moved in perfect synchronization, piecing together components into finished robots.
Soon, these machines would roll out into the homes of Coruscant. They would join the police force. A few would even find their way into the Jedi Temple.
On the surface, they maintained order.
But years ago, Palpatine had secretly implanted a special program deep within each unit.
Whether his plan succeeded or failed, that program would activate on his command.
Every robot would pledge allegiance, not to the Republic, not to the people… but to him. The Sith Emperor.
Palpatine leaned back in the chair that had been prepared for him inside the control room, his eyes gleaming with pride.
"You Jedi scum never dreamed I had such a contingency." He murmured to himself.
He opened his backup communication device and resumed watching the game.
After all, there was no rush to activate the plan. His office was about to explode. A dead man didn't need to worry about being hunted by the Jedi.
Let them come.
✦••┈┈••✦••┈┈••✦
In deep space, Count Dooku was visiting an old friend.
Though he wasn't particularly fond of Garfield, Dooku had to admit he was grateful for the game tournament the orange cat had organized.
Even his old friend had become quite interested.
That old friend was General Grievous.
In another timeline, Grievous would suffer catastrophic injuries and be forced into a mechanical body, a cyborg encased in armor, little more than a brain and organs preserved in a jar.
A military genius, yes, but trapped.
Not now.
Now, Grievous was still a vibrant, living being. His limbs were his own. His organs were where they belonged.
He and Dooku had collaborated years ago, one leaning toward politics, the other toward military strategy. Together, they had been a formidable duo.
But that was years ago.
Now, both had aged. They sat together in comfortable chairs, drinking, watching the competition, and reminiscing about past glories.
A perfect retirement life.
Grievous raised his glass, eyes fixed on the projected match with great excitement. "Old Dooku, I just registered for the Commander's Competition!"
"Thanks to my exceptional military talent, I successfully made it into the top 1001!"
Dooku smirked. "So you're not among the top 1000 competing on Coruscant? The great military genius, General Grievous?"
"Damn it, your mouth is as foul as ever, old man." Grievous waved a dismissive hand.
"I was supposed to be an alternate, but you know I'd never stoop to that. Besides, I need to command our army. I'm not free at all."
Dooku glanced at Grievous's protruding belly. "Yes, busy with military affairs."
"Drinking. Watching games. Your belly is rounder than mine."
Grievous shot him a look. "I'm not like you Jedi Knights who need to train constantly."
"My talent lies in commanding battles. If I were always on the front lines, what do you think our army would look like?"
He gestured at Dooku's midsection. "But you, Dooku, you're a Jedi Knight, and you've already started to gain weight."
"How long has it been since you exercised? Or are you hopelessly infatuated with the beauties of all species?"
Dooku looked down at his own belly and felt a twinge of emotion. He used to be so disciplined.
Every day, without fail, he practiced his swordsmanship. But ever since the Hi Claw Group released this game…
He had changed.
In the game, Dooku experienced an unprecedented sense of glory and joy.
But he also realized he was getting older. Sometimes, he even lost to his younger apprentices.
Of course, in real life, Dooku remained confident. Even his old master, Yoda, might not be his equal.
Grievous, oblivious to Dooku's smug expression, focused intently on the intense match.
The two chatted and watched in comfortable companionship~
Until Grievous's adjutant knocked and entered.
"Master Dooku. General."
Grievous's expression darkened. He had given clear instructions, only interrupt for emergencies.
Dooku sighed. "Old friend, it seems our gathering is coming to an end. Go handle your business. I'll continue watching the game."
"Wait for me," Grievous said. "I'll be right back."
But the adjutant shook his head. "General, Master Dooku… you may not be able to continue resting. This matter concerns both the High Claw Group and the Jedi Order."
Dooku froze.
Though he had ideological conflicts with the Jedi Order, especially regarding certain individuals, he still cared deeply.
Qui-Gon Jinn, his old rival, had returned to the Force before him.
Love and hate were two sides of the same coin.
Dooku set down his glass. "What exactly happened?"
The adjutant opened his terminal and projected the information.
"A few minutes ago," he said, "a massive amount of classified information about the Jedi Order suddenly appeared online."
"Most of it exposes the dark side of the Jedi. There are also rumors about the High Claw Group, claiming that the orange cat is an ambitious schemer intending to destroy the universe."
Dooku and Grievous exchanged a glance.
They spent the next several minutes reviewing the documents.
Dooku, as a Jedi Master, naturally recognized some of the dark history, things Grievous had never known.
After reading everything, Grievous dismissed the adjutant and grabbed Dooku's arm.
"Tell me the truth," Grievous said, his voice low. "Is all of this real? Conspiracy? Massacres? Eliminating dissidents?"
"This isn't what righteous Jedi Knights should do."
Dooku met his old friend's eyes. "Some of it is true."
He expected anger.
Instead, Grievous's fury seemed to fade. His expression softened.
Dooku blinked. "Grievous… I sense your anger fading. Why?"
Grievous patted Dooku's shoulder. "Old friend, first of all, thank you for your trust all these years."
"You haven't lied to me. We've been friends for decades. I know your character." He paused.
"This is all history. You didn't do it."
He gestured broadly. "And besides, I'm a general. A seasoned general."
Dooku understood.
A seasoned general who had seen countless battles, countless deaths, understood the cruelty of war.
He knew that the Jedi Order's dark history, however shameful, was almost inevitable.
Grievous pointed at the projected files, specifically at Garfield's enormous orange cat head waving cheerfully on the screen.
"I think," Grievous said, "we need to talk to this orange cat."