A/N: So this idea had been clicking in my brain for awhile, and I started wondering how Grievous could've been portrayed if he hadn't been killed off. His perspective is one I haven't particularly worked with so I relied on the Legends but R&R please.

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Pain.

Yes. That was the word to describe the excruciating, yet unsettlingly still feeling.

Pain.

Such a vague, yet simple term. But it was the correct one.

Pain.

The word had echoed endlessly, repeatedly bouncing off the invisible walls within his disoriented mind. Over and over again, the mantra sounding almost as monotonous as his entire droid army. A cycle that never seemed to end.

Pain, pain, pain.

The word rang so violently in his head, that if his ears weren't already damaged as they were, and covered by his insufferable mask, he would've clawed them out.

However, this type of pain was…strange. Welcoming, almost. It wasn't physical pain. There were no burning or torturous sensations. Although, it was disturbingly different from the kind he experienced throughout his life. Like on that fateful day of his shuttle crash, when he had to have his organic limbs removed to be replaced with the cybernetics in order to keep him alive.

No, that feeling, that pain, was raw.

Merciless.

This, however, was something entirely new to him. This…this was a form of mental pain. But it was consuming. It was as if a part of him could feel the pain, but another part of him simply couldn't. Like it was there, but wasn't there. He felt as though he himself was conscious, but his cybernetic body was just...shut down, and his mind was drifting aimlessly into oblivion. Like something was missing.

Like something was wrong.

He felt…trapped. Trapped in the inescapable barriers of his mind. Trapped in the black swarm that threatened to overpower his barriers.

Several questions crossed and rammed into his brain all at once. Where was he? Why couldn't he open his eyes? Why did they feel so heavy? Was he even alive? If he was, why couldn't he move? Why was his memory so...foggy? Was this how death felt?

His internal questions and thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a muffled, almost inaudible noise. Though his cybernetic hearing was slightly inoperative at the moment, he could faintly hear the conversation taking place between someone and…a medical droid? It sounded strangely like one of his obnoxious EV models he used as his medical assistant in the early days of the war.

EV-A4-D was it?

He never took the time to remember such little things. He always found that specific droid exceedingly irritating, with its constant sarcastic quips and comments, but the assistant really knew how to do its job. However, that EV doctor had been destroyed by Master Fisto.

Fisto.

Jedi.

Images flooded through his brain as he slowly, but surely began to remember the bits and pieces of his memory when he was fully awake and…

What's the word…

Functional. Yes, functional. But to him, the word made him seem like a mindless droid, which he was most definitely not. His blood always seemed to boil like the lava banks of Mustafar when he was called a droid, rather than the term cyborg, which he found most preferable. People tended to forget he was a person, that there was someone behind the mask, but public opinion never particularly mattered to him. As long as they knew which buttons not to push.

His head started to throb agonizingly as the memory of a particular Jedi pierced and sliced through his mind like a blade.

Kenobi.

His hatred for the man was no secret. Instead of pushing his buttons, Kenobi practically ran them over. After all, he was the arrogantly perfect, "peacekeeping" General. He inwardly scoffed at the name the hypocritical Jedi claimed themselves to be. They claimed they weren't soldiers, that they weren't warriors, but they had proven themselves otherwise when they attacked his own home planet long ago. When they refused to help his own people who were starving and suffering, and caused the planet's death toll to rise drastically.

And they did it long before the war even started.

Long before he became this…monstrosity.

They were more like warmongers rather than peacekeepers. Each and every planet they supposedly "liberated," was always submerged in mounds of rubble and debris as soon as the Jedi and their precious Republic were done invading it. They left marks and scars rather than peace and serenity on those planets. And yet they had the audacity to argue in their pointless and tedious Senate that the Separatists chose to continue the Clone War. To argue that they want "peace."

If they really wanted so-called peace, they would have surrendered three years ago.

However, the Republic had always seemed to confuse the word "peace" with "quiet." To them, peace is when every being lives under the jurisdiction of their corrupt government. To him, and to the Separatist organization, that's quiet. But he had yet to care about corruption. So why start now?

Peace is a lie, someone had told him once, not long ago. Someone who was intelligent, sinister, but also arrogant to an extent. Yet his mind couldn't quite place who the person was.

Strange.

He knew the person definitely hated Kenobi, almost as much as he did. His name was Maul, was it not? Yes, the hellish red and black demon, the one who made that cult, or the Shadow Collective, as others had called it.

He preferred the term cult.

It didn't matter. Kenobi was weak. Yet the Jedi managed to nearly destroy him with his own blaster. As a previous Kaleesh warrior, dying at the hands of an enemy who was using your weapon was probably the most shameful way to die. But was he dead? His lungs were basically on fire when he got shot, along with all his other organs, so he was quite surprised that he was conscious as of now. Or at least he thought he was conscious.

Or was this how the afterlife felt?

Suddenly he found the answer to one of his questions. If he was dead, he probably wouldn't be able to think, or even feel anything at all. But if he was alive, he would be able to open his eyes, no? If he had to make a guess, he would say he was on the verge of death, clinging to life like there's no tomorrow. Which there probably won't be for him.

Either way, his rage towards the destruction of his cybernetic body was still ever present, enough to keep him from giving into unconsciousness. First the Jedi took his organic limbs from him, and now his cybernetics. They've already stolen so much, that they might as well have taken the entire galaxy.

When…if he awoke, would he find his body scorched and unfixable? Would he be considered no longer valuable to the Separatists? Would… what's his name?

Lord Sidious.

Yes. Would Lord Sidious dispose of him?

He was determined, no, he was dedicated to hunting down Kenobi, and all the other Jedi who took his body from him, and left him utterly useless. They will pay their debts with their lives.

Whenever one of his strategies didn't go as planned, his first instinct was always to flee. Dooku always called it "cowardly."

Yet when Dooku was face to face with Skywalker and Kenobi, he didn't flee from the confrontation and it cost him his life. So in the long run, being cowardly pays off wonderfully, because you get to live to crush your opponents another day.

So looking back on his decisions, he was shocked that he didn't pull his "cowardly" move when he was on Utapau with Kenobi.

Now that he closely thought about it, perhaps Sidious didn't want him to.

It was very rare for him to have an actual conversation with Sidious, and he hardly ever spoke with Dooku about the mysterious hooded man, but Dooku had always referred to him as his master.

That was where he questioned his own place in Sidious' plans. Yes, he took orders from Dooku. Some ignorant civilians would even wrongfully argue that the old Force user was his "master."

So if he were to look into the perspective of Dooku being his master, and Sidious being Dooku's master, did it mean that Sidious was his master as well?

He always supposed not.

But that was his opinion, and perhaps he wasn't seeing the bigger picture.

Throughout the war, he had this sensation, this feeling that maybe Dooku was using him, that maybe Dooku and Sidious were using him. But he never knew what they were most likely using him for, so he either pushed the thought from his mind completely, or denied it until he forgot about what he was denying.

Well, that didn't matter now.

He always thought of Dooku as an unwanted anchor, always weighing him down from his true potential. His death was a step forward for him. And it didn't seem like Sidious had paid any mind to him at first, but he knew better now.

He had enough time on his hands to think about anything he may have dismissed in the past due to the chaos of the war.

And now that he was actually thinking about it, realization struck him like the blaster bolt Kenobi shot that ripped through his organs in an instant. He now realized he had been used.

Sidious had most likely given the Jedi a clue to where he was hiding on Utapau, and led them right to him. He had been merely a disposable pawn since the beginning. And it seemed he had reached the end of the board. So Sidious would definitely dispose of him now, since he tried to permanently prevent him from interfering with whatever plans he has before.

That adds another enemy to the long list.

The thought of hearing all his enemies before him scream and plead for mercy, including the deceitful Sidious, brought satisfaction to his distant mind.

He survived yet another ordeal that was meant to destroy him. And he means to come back stronger than he ever was before.

Unidentifiable voices suddenly entered and echoed through his head. Several of them he was unable to hear, but there were some he was able to piece together.

"Jedi," an unrecognizable voice whispered throughout his mind. It was audible, but it sounded remote, like there was a great distance in between him and the voice. As if the blockade that was his mind was preventing it from crossing.

"Killer," said another, sounding much closer that time.

Jedi Killer. Ironic. That's exactly what he was and always would be. Ever since the Yam'rii crisis, or the Huk War as some called it, he was devoted to ridding the galaxy of the Jedi. If you can't kill cancer, cut it out entirely.

The hiss of another voice specifically caught his attention, as this particular voice sounded oddly familiar, as if it had penetrated through his supposedly impenetrable mind.

"Arise Grievous."

He felt the anvils on his eyelids lift after what felt like an eternity, and his eyes snapped open.

Grievous no longer felt pain. Any trace of that feeling suddenly vanished from his mind. Only one feeling remained.

Vengeance.