A/N

So I finally decide to come back to this. It's one of many fanfics I knew I wanted to start, but didn't quite know how to finish (the ideas I had sounded a lot cooler in my head before I put them down). Bear with me, though. I don't like to leave stories unfinished once I start them (that's one of my biggest pet peeves), so you will see an end to this. One way or another.

"This shall be our base of operations," Palpatine said as he walked with Vader through the front arch of their new purchase.

The lighting was nearly non-existent, the countertops and tables were broken and dirty, and Vader sensed that something had brushed across his foot.

"It...certainly has potential," he said, repressing a shudder. What he was really thinking was how disgusting this place was! He would rather eat in a garbage pit than here! But, of course, he could never say such a thing out loud in front of his master.

"It is what they call a 'fixer-up', Lord Vader. "And we are going to get this place feast-worthy!"

ONE RENOVATION MONTAGE LATER...

By the time the Storm Troopers were done with it, the restaurant they purchased was unrecognizable. The lighting and wiring had been fixed to something legal and safe, the countertops, tables, and any other appliances had been replaced, and all of the pests had been exterminated and removed.

"Excellent! I sense a large wave of customers in our near future!" Palpatine exclaimed as the Storm Troopers worked together to lift the sign overhead:

Palpatine's Pancake House

"Turn the lights on!" Palpatine commanded. "I want people to see this sign from miles away!"

But potential customers weren't the only ones who could see the sign...a hooded man that had been wandering just outside the town had noticed, and felt something in his stomach sink at the sign.

It had been a number of years now, but it still seemed like yesterday that Order 66 had been initiated, and the Jedi were almost completely wiped out. And he learned the hard way that Palpatine was the man behind it.

What he was doing, he couldn't be sure, but if this were something to build up the funds for a far more sinister plan, he needed to do something to stop him...and fast.

A FEW DAYS LATER...

"Sir, where's my coffee?" a woman demanded.

"I'm getting right on that," Vader grumbled.

"Waiter, I asked for extra syrup half an hour ago!" a male complained.

"Okay, okay, sheesh."

"Excuse me, could you tell me where the restrooms are in this establishment?"

"I'M ONE PERSON! I CAN ONLY BE IN SO MANY PLACES!" Tempted as he was to slice these ingrates in half, Palpatine had already given him specific instructions not to use his lightsaber for any reason outside of culinary purposes. Apparently killing random civilians who dare disrespect the second-in-command of the Galactic Empire was "unprofessional."

"My lord!" Vader slammed the kitchen door open. "I can't take much more of the customers! I thought losing my wife and unborn child was hard, but this is unbearable!"

But Palpatine didn't turn. His attention seemed focused elsewhere.

"...Master?" Approaching behind him to see what it was out the window he was looking at he then understood the reason behind his quiet intensity: a building very similar to their own, only the outer colors and the sign was different:

Waffle World

"...And so it begins..." Palpatine growled.