#Nikto wears a Large

[spookiboogi]

Special thanks to Katy Perry and Doechii

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

43 / 800 words / Nikto and honeypot reader (or a double agent a la red sparrow)

...

When Nikto comes home--appears in the kitchen doorway, duffel bag pitched over one shoulder and boots dripping mud--you’re not ready. You’re certain he can sense it with the way his eyes cut into you.

You straighten up and pull a grocery list nearby across the counter to cover your notebook without breaking eye contact. “You’re home early.”

“Short deployment.” His bag thuds to the floor. He walks to you with heavy footsteps. When he reaches you, he towers over you, cold eyes looking you up and down. Examining the state of his woman. “Perhaps you were hoping for a few more days away from me.”

You look up at him, plastering an overly saccharine, obviously fake smile on your face. "Perhaps I was."

Nikto chuckles. “A mouth like that will get you in trouble.” He grabs your face in one of his large hands as he looks you in the eye, forcing you to keep that fake smile trained on him. “You ought to close your mouth and keep that pretty smile on your face. It’s your best feature.” He's in a good mood, but that won't stop him from reminding you of your place.

Your fake smile turns sharp. "Anything for my darling husband."

He pulls you in by his grip on your jaw, bringing you close enough to smell the lingering gunpowder on his skin--the smell of blunt death that hangs on the edges of his clothes.

“Your attitude is making me want to do things to you that would be too rough for you to handle, doll,” he purrs, his large fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks.

"It'll have to wait if you want dinner."

“I can think of several other things you can do to prove your usefulness besides making my dinner.”

"After," you reply. You need to hear the details of his assignment, but he's always more pliant when he's spent. And it's easier to get him spent when he's full. Makes him docile.

Nikto can't help the grin that stretches across his scarred face at your words. His cold eyes smolder and he releases your face, his hands moving to your hips. “You are learning to be a good little wife for me. I’m impressed.” He leans in to kiss you. His hand slips down to your thigh and caresses the flesh underneath your skirt. “And how do I know you're not planning to ply me with food and liquor so I fall asleep before I have my way with you again?"

"Mm." You loosen the first button on your neckline, then the next, gratified when his eyes snap down to watch. You make sure he can see the lingerie you're wearing under your perfect housewife’s dress. "You’re never so early that I’m not ready to welcome you home, darling."

Nikto's eyes burn as he watches you pop open another button, drinking in the sight of you. A low groan rises in his chest at the barest, most teasing glimpse of the lacy number underneath. His fingers flex around your thigh. “You expect me to wait until bedtime before having you?”

"Of course. What kind of wife would I be to serve you dessert before dinner?"

“Make me wait too long and you’ll be sorry,” he says. “I haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. I expect you to spoil me rotten.”

"I intend to. Now, out of my kitchen." You smack his hand off you with your wooden spoon the way a teacher might smack a grabby student's hand with a ruler. "Out."

Nikto scoffs. He hates being teased and he hates being denied, but he likes your fire. And he can do as you ask if it means getting what he wants.

He grabs one of the cookies in the glass display dome on the counter and takes a bite. “Temper, doll,” he rumbles as he leaves the kitchen. “Don’t make me put you over my knee."

You watch him leave and return to your work, sliding the grocery list off your mission notebook along with the ingredients you need for dinner. You'll get the details you need for the dead drop tomorrow by giving your darling husband a full belly and as much sex as he needs to loosen his lips. As long as you pretend to be uninterested in his work and interested in his advances instead, you get what you need.

Still, you can't deny the way your heart beats faster in your chest when you remember the way he drank you in.

...

more kortac / masterlist

[kyumisyumi]

Something something something eldritch Nikto something something something

I've sifted through so many ideas for this because I didn't wanna just pick a random eldritch creature from my box of horrors and slap Nikto's name on it. But also I don't feel like I have enough info about him(ironic, considering I write about him so much) to craft him into a creature. I watched some documentaries on eldritch horrors, dived into Russian cryptids and still drew blanks but here's what I managed

Rating: E for everyone who loves Nikto

Eldritch!Nikto x F!Reader

Word count: 1

Part 2

~Taking requests~

You weren't running from the consequences of your actions, more like briskly walking in the opposite directions. Looking forward all the way because backwards held the sounds of large dogs and angry men. Their boots cracking every twig and foliage along the way, voices interrupting the once peaceful ambiance of the woods. You could hardly tell whether the growling was from the hounds or the men. And really, who wouldn't want to run away from such a thing? Not run; walk. Quickly, very quickly. You were being smart, not cowardly.

No, never that.

You weren't cowardly when you snuck into that guardsman's post. You weren't cowardly when you tried to steal the gold he confiscated from the Miller's wife, the only woman that kept you fed while the streets were your home. You weren't cowardly when you defended yourself once he caught you. And you weren't cowardly when you accidentally bashed his head in with a clay pot. He should've worn a helmet, really. A guard should always have their helmet on! What was he thinking? Now look at you, running for your life and deluding yourself as if it would change the actions of the past.

Running.

You ran your mouth, ran your mind, but no matter how fast you moved, you couldn't outrun hunting dogs. Your fault, really, for trying to do so while wearing the long, ugly skirt you stole from someone's unattended clothesline. You should've maybe stolen the guard's old pants, you knew he had some because he mentioned wanting to give them to his nephew who was in combat training. Instead you dashed out the home the moment you realized he wasn't breathing, panicked by your first time taking a life. What were you thinking?

"I wasn't-" you spat a thick glob of blood out your mouth, it's red color staining the putrid black floor. Tears staining your vision and pain plaguing your mind. "I didn't mean to." You said it over and over again but it was little defense against men who'd lost a comrade because of you. A good man. A good man who stole from widows and bullied the elderly? It's weird how two people can look at the same person but see someone different. But that train of thought was halted by a kick to your stomach. And when one of the men took the final hit, the force of it sending you against the edge of the pit, you finally felt that feeling in your stomach. The one you hid away behind conversations with yourself. Locked away behind a naive expectation that things will either go your way or go away. Your first taste of true regret. Because you got a glimpse of where that attitude has lead you. That attitude that kept you going when your parents had left you. That attitude that kept you alive when your survival was in your own hands at an age where other children were being coddled and sung to. That attitude that protected you in the harsh village slum, now had you staring down into hell. 'The pit'; a giant hole defacing mother earth's perfect form. It's surface covered in black ichor, you couldn't tell whether the walls were moving or you'd been hit so hard your vision was thoroughly fucked. This was considered a punishment worse than death. Jokesters and troublemakers got a stern talking to. Thieves and crooks got jail time. Murders and adulterers got death. But the truly damned got the pit. The punishment didn't match the crime but judging by the hate filled glares of the men surrounding you, they didn't much care.

Or maybe they did care, they cared about you as much as you did yourself, these days.

That was a more comforting thought, maybe? Maybe not. Either way, thinking about it felt a whole lot better than thinking of the weightlessness you felt as you fell. Your vision quickly losing the greens and yellows of a gentle forest to being plunged into darkness. A darkness beyond description. One that surpassed what's seen when you close your eyes for the night. That surpassed the unconsciousness of sleep when dreams escaped you. A darkness that felt like death yet was somehow alive.

The walls were moving, they shifted uncomfortably as they felt the presence of another. Voices that whispered of uncertainty and conflict. Voices that yelled intruder and ones that yelled fodder. But one voice just hummed in curiosity at seeing the source of blood and spit and tears it tasted. He had consumed many of your kind but what little it had of you ignited interest rather than hunger. So it did not eat. Didn't wrap you in its tendrils and rip you apart into easily digestible pieces to be absorbed by its mass. The tendrils held you, confused by their many intentions and wants, before simply bringing you lower into the pit. To the very bottom that no other creature has ever seen. No other creature would ever be allowed near. Far too close to it's more vulnerable organs. But you wouldn't hurt it, would you? Wouldn't hurt them. Not with those blunt nails and teeth, not with those little limbs and severed ties to the natural order. You were weaker than it's weakest points yet you fought against his tendrils like you believed you could win. Struggled and resisted as if you had a fighting chance. 'Hush, little human.' It thought as it strangled you, only enough to render you unconscious. Give it enough time to build a prison home inside itself for you. Then build a form for himself more perceptible to your primitive eyes, he'd tried once before but the human face was so hard to mimic. There was so much anger inside you, more for yourself than for him. And Nikto couldn't understand it. There is only one 'you' inside that tiny, fleshy form. How can one be angry at their own/only self? That would be one of the first things he asked. He felt there was nothing a creature like you could teach him yet he had so much he wanted to ask regardless. Maybe once he had his answers he could finally consume you in peace. Maybe then the voices that called for him to spare you will quiet down. And the ones that screamed for him to bond with you will stop. Your body couldn't handle the things he desires... Could it?

Regardless, he has time. All the time in the world and beyond.

Silly human, getting yourself thrown down here, what were you thinking?

All in all, I didn't want to forget the eldritch and just make a monster.

[batshitferalejsimp]

My Particular EJ Headcanons!!

(I don't have a particular last name or nothing decided, like I've seen some of the cool folk coming up with)

Minors DNI

My eyeless jack is big, VERY BIG, like brick shithouse big, he's 6ft8, and very large and very muscular. I wouldn't say he's shredded, though. He's got like an off-season body builder or power lifter build, with like a healthy layer of fat over it. He's very gifted in the chest department✨️

In my mind, he was a Russian transfer student, studying over in America for his medical degree, feeling a bit isolated due to the lack of peers and friends, and that's when the cult snatched him up.

His voice is usually even and calm, but when he's pissed off, it gets almost layered... but not quite, and it's just off.

He has a bit of an accent (think Nikto from COD), and couldn't care less about hiding it.

He doesn't really care too much for being called EJ or Eyeless Jack. He prefers just being called Jack, but he won't really correct anyone on it because he doesn't care enough.

Over the years, he's set up some contacts through slenderman and has a somewhat successful career in the organ market. He also has a credit card and the like for when he needs to buy new supplies and whatever else he would need. He's probably one of the more put-together creeps, not that it says much about him.

He moves so quietly that it's actually scary, like you turn around and suddenly he's behind you, just watching.

He does a lot of watching and staring and has a habit of tilting his head when confused or trying to investigate things.

He can eat things other than kidneys or just human flesh. He just NEEDS human flesh fairly regularly and will start talking/mumbling to himself, getting aggressive and violent if he goes too long without human flesh, until he snaps and attacks the nearest human, no matter who they are. It usually takes 2-3 days for symptoms to start showing, and he keeps himself well fed, so it isn't usually an issue.

He sometimes hums to himself while working.

Believe it or not, he does sometimes go out in public, especially during and since the pandemic, wearing a mask and sunglasses with a hoodie, isn't suspicious if he pays, acts polite and doesn't act an ass. He can't go out and about as easily as jeff can, though.

He's very clean and sanitary, and oftentimes, if it can be helped, he doesn't kill his victims. He keeps his space clean.

If he needs to get organs, he usually targets men or criminals. He's not fond of harming women and children(he will if he MUST, but he won't be happy about it. )

His morality and emotions are somewhat dulled and disconnected from him.

He can see, and he can see quite well. However, he can't look around without turning his head. He can't side eye as much as he would like to with some of the shit that goes on in the mansion.

He can cook, and he's decent at it, but he usually doesn't because he can eat his food raw and the rest of the people in the mansion are assholes.

He's often getting stuck in fights with Jeff due to Jeff wanting a fight and knowing just how to make EJ fight him. EJ doesn't enjoy this but wins 60-70% of the time.

He enjoys going on walks or reading in his free time, watching a good amount of documentaries, and trying to stay on top of the lastest medical science.

He drinks and smokes, and he can get drunk, but cigarettes do not affect his lungs at all. Which disappointed him when he found out...

He has a strong sense of smell, and when he smells something he doesn't like, his face scrunches up visibly like a cat. It happens a lot around the other creeps in the mansion, particularly Toby.

He sometimes gets like mini zoomies, but he usually just goes out for a run and comes back when he's done.

He sleeps on his stomach or his back depending on how safe he feels, but he never really sleeps on his side unless there's someone else in the bed.

He eats A LOT, often times raw meat(think cow, deer, pig or chicke), he's large and does a lot of moving around and exercise, so he definitely EATS

[dreamerofvalyria]

Hi I love your Nikto fic! Can you tell us what a zmei is though? I've never heard of one before

That is a most excellent question, anon!

Not too many people seem to know what a Zmei is, but that's understandable, it's a bit of a more niche legend. Obviously, if you don't want any details spoiled for the fic at all then you're more than welcome to skip this ask, but it'll be a while before it's fully explained in the main story. Honestly, it's not much of a spoiler since I've already touched on it a bit in some of the baby fics.

I'll be mentioning some concepts and characters from @ghouljams (obviously lol) so head up for that!

To begin, Nikto isn't a fae himself, despite this being the fae AU. I looked at different types of fae and faeries found in Russia and the surrounding areas, but nothing really jumped out at me until I came across the legend of the Zmei.

In Russian mythology, the Zmei is a three headed hydra who typically features as dangerous, malevolent creature, intent on tricking and killing humans. There's multiple stories that have the Zmei as the antagonist and stories vary about his exact appearance, but it's typically a large, black, three headed hydra - sometimes he can breathe fire, sometimes lightning - and can vary in size from a large horse to a mountain.

As mentioned by Ghoul in one of their asks, dragons and their kin were probably a thing in the past, but have since died off because of how difficult it would be for them to hide among humans. However! An important part of the Zmei legend, is that he can change his form from a hydra to a human accompanied by a black dog, a raven/crow, and a large black stallion.

In my version, the animals are extensions of Nikto himself. Each of the three heads are all Nikto, just different parts of his mind, which I found fitting given his potential DID. When in a human form, these animals are just those other parts of his mind. The human is Nikto, the dog is Nikto, the crow is Nikto and the horse is Nikto.

Since Zmei is capable of becoming human, the lack of other dragons/wyverns/hydras in the world doesn't prevent him from reproducing, hence how Nikto was born: his sire was Zmei and his dam a young Russian woman. Hence the title of the fic, Son of Zmei.

Their human forms aren't perfect - Nikto has some black scales on most of his body, including his face, which is why he prefers to wear a mask and clothes that cover every inch of his body. He's inherited the same ego and sense of superiority that most hydras have, along with a highly possessive and obsessive nature. He collects anything and everything that he finds interesting and, recently, he's found his attention drawn to the cute human running the antiques store.

The Zmei is actually the main inspiration for the design of King Ghidorah from Godzilla! So, just think of that bad boy and you'll get an idea of what Nikto looks like in his proper form.

Hope that answers some of your questions!

[lonetile4]

WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE

A semi-crack fanfictions including organizations from Call of Duty, Resident Evil, Dragonball, and Marvel.

This is a work in progress. Whenever you see "==Place Holder==" it means there is a gap where I need to fill in a good transition between sections. Whenever I get writers block, I move on to the next plot point and fill things in later.

"We're glad you came," Nikto said, voice rough.

"It's been a while, Andre." Liliya answered. She sat down beside him at the bar. She observed her friend. He was wearing a sweatshirt; the hood pulled over his head to hide his face. He held a glass of scotch in his hand.

"We told you not to call us that," Nikto muttered. "Just Nikto is fine."

"Sorry." Liliya ordered herself a drink. "So... what made you call me after all these years?" She swirled the golden liquid in her glass, listening to the ice clink.

"We... need help." Nikto glanced at her. "A mission came up. It involves robotic weapons. And you know more about robotics better than anyone."

"I'm a civilian now, Nikto," Liliya said quietly. "I can't." She got to her feet when Nikto grabbed her wrist.

"It's Hydra, Lily," Nikto said. Liliya paused. She looked at the hand that had grabbed her arm. There was a long pause between them. Liliya clenched her fists.

"God, dammit," she hissed. She let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine."

===

"Ain't this amazing?" Philip Graves asked, hopping off the chopper.

"Yeah... wonderful." Jill Valentine replied, crossing her arms.

"Come on!" Graves laughed. "The BSA, Shadow Company, Spetsnaz, and Red Ribbon... all working together!" Liliya tensed.

"Red Ribbon doesn't exist anymore." Liliya said. "So I don't work for them."

"Whatever," Graves scoffed. "Powerful people coming together to fight for the same cause." Liliya rolled her eyes.

"Hey," Chris Redfield walked over and patted her shoulder. "Relax."

"If I had known the BSA was called, I wouldn't have agreed to this." She glared at Nikto, pissed that he left out an important detail.

"Look, what happened with Claire, I don't..."

"This has nothing to do with Claire!" Liliya snapped. "This has nothing to do with the fact that I nearly sent your sister... my *girlfriend* at the time, to her death trying to take down what was left of Red Ribbon." Liliya pinched the bridge of her nose.

"And now I'm back to taking out another evil organization. Who knows who I might send to their death."

"Well, Graves is always an option," Chris said with a small laugh. Liliya rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile that formed on her lips.

"I heard that," Graves said. Liliya flipped him off, but had a smile on her face. Her smile faultered before she turned back to Chris.

"She's doing okay, though.... right?" She asked. "I know it's been... 2 years..."

"She's doing great," Chris answered. "And you?"

"Hanging in there," Liliya answered. The teams walked together into the large hanger.

"We're sorry for not telling you about the BSA," Nikto said.

"It's fine. Whatever," Liliya grumbled. "But if the BSA is here... robotics and bio-weapons don't exactly mix well... if B.O.Ws start having Red Ribbon tech? That's more than any of us can handle."

==PLACE HOLDER==

"Your gas mask will remain on at all times," Chris said. "We don't know what Hydra has been cooking, meaning we have no cure and no idea how this thing works. We could be dealing with simple zombies or B.O.Ws."

"So this is a suicide mission...?" One of the Shadows asked.

"I'm not going to sugar coat it," Chris replied slowly. "This will likely be the most dangerous missions you will ever do, which is why we need to work as a team, have each other's backs."

"We'll be learning on the job, so keep your radio on for updates." He glanced around the room. "Communication and teamwork are important."

==PLACE HOLDER==

"So, you're a cyborg..." Graves said, looking at Liliya's legs.

"You could say that..." Liliya grumbled. She looked through the binoculars at the facility door.

"Did Red Rocket leave you with any cool gear? According to what Chris said, those B.O.Ws ain't pretty." Graves was squatting nearby, gun at the ready, just in case. It did make Liliya feel a little better to have someone watching her back.

"I have a few," Liliya confessed. Well, she had more than a few. Just some little trinkets in her back pocket just in case.

"You know, that makes me feel a lot safer." Graves said. "I've seen the aftermath of what happens when the BSA has to get involved."

"Yeah... it's not pretty." Liliya grabbed her radio. "Clear. Safe to move in, but stay cautious."

"Roger that." Chris replied from the other end. Liliya put the radio down, returning to keeping an eye on the teams. She could hear Graves's men communicating with the BSA as they moved in.

"What happened between you and the BSA?" Liliya's eye twitched in annoyance.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Graves. Mind your own business."

"Alright," Graves went quiet again. There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Let's move." Liliya lead Graves and a small squad of Shadows towards a different entrance. "Remember what Redfield said. Communicate." She looked at everyone, memorizing their faces. She wondered how many good people would be left after this mission. She wanted to say something... to tell them to say goodbye to each other and to prepare in case they need to shoot their own brothers, but she knew the moral was low enough. She didn't need to add more to it.

Once the door was breached and cleared, Graves and Liliya walked in. The place was quiet... but quiet never met safe.

"Heads on a swivel," Liliya warned. "That includes on the ceiling."

[To be continued...]

[aoioozora]

Call of Duty Masterlist

Key:

🌸 - Romantic fluff 🌻 - Familial/Platonic fluff ⭐ - Comedy/Slice of life ☔ - Angst ⚔️ - Gore 🌹 - Steamy

Series:

🌸⭐ Simon ~ Simon 'Ghost' Riley - Synopsis: A lone biker saves a woman from being assaulted and they form a friendship from there [Civilian AU] - Tropes: Strangers to friends to lovers, biker boy x book girl - Status: Ongoing - Chapters: 14 - Chapters Masterlist 🌻🌸⭐ The Ghosts Comfort You [COD Ghosts] - Synopsis: A series of oneshots where each of the Ghosts give you comfort in different situations - Status: Ongoing - Chapters: 4

Drabbles and Oneshots:

GHOSTS David 'Hesh' Walker 🌸 Kiss 🌸 Bulwark 🌸 Is It Me? 🌹 Soul Meets Soul on Lovers' Lips Keegan Russ 🌸 Attracted ⭐🌹 Cat Got Your Tongue 🌸☔ Mending Promises Logan Walker 🌸⭐ Volleyboy Elias Walker 🌸⭐ Insomniacs 🌻 Valentine Thomas Merrick 🌸 Secret Admirer

MODERN WARFARE Nikto ☔ Final Comfort Alejandro Vargas 🌸 She's Mine Simon 'Ghost' Riley ⚔️ Watery Grave 🌸 Cuddles 🌸 Cat-Like , Cat-Like pt. 2 🌸 Brown Eyes 🌸 Ever The Same John 'Soap' MacTavish 🌸 Therapist Friend

CALL OF DUTY 1 Cpt. Foley 🌸 Large Portion

Headcanons:

GHOSTS 🔸Ice cream preferences 🔸As songs I've downloaded on my phone 🔸Ancestry 🔸Hesh with you as a worm 🔸Sharing an umbrella 🔸Platonically sharing a bed 🔸Logan at Target 🔸Riley waking up Hesh 🔸As civilians 🔸Romantically sharing a bed

Incorrect Quotes:

GHOSTS 🔸Would you love me if I was a worm? 🔸Keegan on being horny and suicidal 🔸The P in Keegan P. Russ 🔸When Logan gets hurt on mission 🔸Y/N's favourite gun 🔸I wanna ruin our friendship

MODERN WARFARE 🔸Soap: Gordon Ramsay isn't Scottish 🔸Ghost is gifted a cat 🔸Gas Prices 🔸When Soap wears cologne 🔸Priceless Price tag

Analyses/Opinions:

🔸Thoughts on CoD Ghosts 🔸Hesh and Logan songs

Shitposts:

🔸The Ghosts: Names spelled wrong

[sw5w]

Someone to See Ya, Honey

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:31:40 - 00:31:42

Here's a diagram I made of Dex's Diner. It's not to scale, but I think this shows all the characters who appear and where they're seated (except FLO and Hermione Bagwa because they're all over the place).

#5 Seboca and human patron #20 leave while Obi-Wan and Dex are talking, and #24 Bogg Tyrell only enters for a drink and staggers back out.

Here are Kajain'sa'Nikto #1 and #2 sitting against the back wall beside the door. Maybe this door leads to the refresher because they are missing in a few shots. Nature might have been calling!

In front of them, you can see human patron #3. She has a hairstyle similar to Wilst Molan from the Outlander, who is glimpsed briefly at the Outlander Club, but it looks like a different actress.

Here is human patron #3 and the unnamed Pacithhip #4, with the two Niktos behind them missing. They return a minute later.

The Pacithhip might be drinking Jawa Juice like Obi-Wan as he's got the same style of cup!

The next table has 3 named patrons: Seboca the Dug holovid star, another Dug named Rednax, and the Nuknog private investigator Slyther Bushforb. (Love that name lol)

They're most easily seen when Obi-Wan first enters the diner.

Seated at the next table are two Rodians, Honka and Sidewa, along with a human companion wearing a helmet (patron #10). You see them several times during Obi-Wan's chat with Dex.

We all know who's sitting at the next table: Obi-Wan and his old pal, Dexter Jettster!

The next patron, on the other side of the entrance, *might* be Lowle Ch'red. She's wearing similar clothing as an extra who didn't appear in the movie (as far as I've found) who was identified as Lowle Ch'red, but they're played by two very different actresses.

Personally, and for obvious reasons, I think they should be separate characters. The black actress doesn't wear a headdress or metal armbands and has a tattoo on her chest, while the white actress doesn't. They just have similar fashion sense!

The next two patrons (#14 and #15) we never get a good look at. #14 might just be a human wearing a tall collar (much like patron #21 at the counter), but we just don't know as their back is always turned. #15 is an older human with white hair.

The table along the far wall is interesting. There's a human patron (#16) but their companion (#17) is tricky. It looks like a Weequay mask possibly, but without hair or maybe with white hair? Or it could be a different kind of mask, but the wrinkles kinda look Weequay to me.

Beside them, we have a single human patron looking wistfully out the window by himself. There might be another booth there, but I think it's more likely a set of stools like the Niktos are sitting at on the opposite end of the diner.

Speaking of the other end of the diner, let's head back to the back and check out who's sitting at the counter. Patron #19 is a bald human seen briefly at the beginning of the scene, blurry as the camera moves, and again later when we get a wider shot of the diner.

Next to #19, we have the diner patron played by Sara Elizabeth Joyce. In this interview with Amy Richau, Sara explains that George told her that she was a bounty hunter and doesn't like Jedi, hence why she exits the scene shortly after spotting Obi-Wan.

Also in that interview is this behind the scenes photo, which also shows a better look at diner patron #19.

Next we have another diner patron wearing a big hood, like patron #14, again with their back turned to us so we don't know if it's a human or a different species. It looks like they might have a large blaster hanging on their side too.

Two spots down we have another human patron, #22, who gets a close up shot when Obi-Wan enters the diner. He's got a pretty interesting looking collar on his suit - and it looks like he's carrying a blaster on his belt too!

The last sitting patron is this human patron, #23, at the end of the bar, close to the kitchen. In another shot, we see that he's chowing down on one of Dex's famous sliders!

And finally, the last patron, #24, who enters and abruptly leaves is Senator Bogg Tyrell, who we saw earlier during the speeder chase with her significant other, Seboca (who's sitting nearby). She grabs a drink and then walks back out, followed shortly by Seboca.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi Hal!

Just curious how do you imagine Nikto's scars?

Ooo, I'm excited to explain my thoughts on this one.

Warnings for topics of intense gore, torture, etc.

Okay, so, first off - all of the facial scars he has are most likely extensive and probably very deep. Torture is drawn out for information retrieval, so they would be made slowly and with purpose.

I think there would be a lot of fissuring in the scars - think of a tributary breaking off from the main river - because of Nikto struggling. The large ones would probably be across his forehead into his scalp as well as on his cheeks, and I also see him with half of a Glasgow smile too.

But also, just a headcanon, I think Nikto dislikes hospitals just like Seraph does - everything reminds him of past trauma. So, if there was ever a complication with his stitched wounds or infections right after he was saved, etc., there's a good chance he took care of them himself instead of going in to have them looked at properly.

This would lead to even more improper healing, damage to the skin, and so on.

So, overall:

Large, long, scars on his forehead & into his scalp

Also along his cheeks

Half of a Glasgow smile

Fissures in the healed, but still very damaged, skin - perhaps even some very bad hyperpigmentation as well

Indented portions of the skin that had been cut away and thus can never fill out

As well as other torture remnants like burns and badly cauterized sections

In a barebones sense, he's not pretty or handsome - there's a reason he wears the mask and it's most likely for his own sanctity of mind. He doesn't like how he looks, in fact, I believe he hates it.

But I'll be going into that more in Ravishing Allure 100%.

[swtorpadawan]

Backup

Author’s Notes: The following story takes place a few weeks after the Rise of the Emperor expansion.

Jonas Balkar’s eyes scanned the south balcony of the Star Cluster Casino on Nar Shaddaa.

From the nearby Strategic Information Service observation post, the senior agent had multiple angles to choose from on his monitor displays, both inside and outside the venue. Years before, Jonas and the Republic SIS – with the assistance of Havoc Squad – had remotely sliced the establishment’s nigh-impregnable security system ever since, giving them a backdoor to the casino’s entire network. Say what you will about the Hutts, but they weren’t stingy on surveillance. They wanted every credit and every gaming chip accounted for, and they were committed to keeping (unsanctioned) violence away from their lucrative hotels and casinos. There were literally hundreds of security holo-recorders and sensors throughout the Star Cluster, and Jonas had access to all of it. What’s more, he could adjust what the Hutts and their goons saw at their end, meaning they wouldn’t get wise to what Jonas was up to.

This had all made the Star Cluster the ideal location for a discreet handoff between their contact – a rather gullible Rodian information broker named Rox, who had a nervous demeanor – and a Nikto working for a Black Sun arms dealer who was (allegedly) supplying off-the-books weaponry for the new Sith Intelligence and their covert operations on the Smuggler’s Moon and other Hutt-controlled worlds. (Why waste time smuggling in ordinance that can be traced back to your government when you can just as easily buy large quantities of untraceable weapons after you arrive, and all at a reasonable price?) The plan was for the Rodian to pass a large bribe to the Nikto for a data-disk on these (alleged) shipments to Imperial safehouses. In one swoop, the SIS would pick up the drop-off points of the network.

But the plan got even better. If things went well, then two days from now, Jonas – through a proxy –would approach the Nikto – the fellow was named Fhentar – with all the information the man had illicitly provided to the Rodian, along with a recording of the hand-off. Using that evidence as leverage, he would turn Fhentar into an SIS informant by threatening to share what the Nikto had done with his boss. The Nikto would then realize that his future lifespan could be measured in minutes if that happened. With Fhentar in Jonas’ pocket, the arms shipments could be disrupted at the Republic’s leisure, forcing the Imps to resort to smuggling their own weapons to the planet. That would further antagonize the Hutt Cartel, causing the Empire even more problems.

Within a few weeks, the Empire’s entire Nar Shaddaa network – so carefully reconstructed by Lana Beniko, the new Minister of Sith Intelligence – would be compromised.

A beautiful plan. All it relied on was this handoff going well over the next few minutes. Just in case, Jonas had an SIS security team – disguised of course – standing by just a few minutes away.

The balcony hadn’t been the obvious choice for the hand-off, but Jonas was convinced it would work. When the action was going hot inside, most of the people tended to ignore the balconies; everyone liked a party, after all. He’d spent weeks surveying the surrounding buildings. A sniper from a nearby high point – should the Exchange or Black Sun or even Sith Intelligence choose to intervene – would find no clear shot of the south balcony. Surveillance – aside from that of the SIS, of course – would be problematic with these acoustics. Rox was wired, but any other audio monitoring would be suppressed.

It worked.

To ensure relative quiet on the balcony, a simple ruse had been arranged to distract any potential witnesses. At the appointed moment, a million-credit jackpot would miraculously (and conveniently) hit on one of the Star Cluster’s Kingpin machines to get the crowd’s attention. An undercover SIS operative would then create a diversion on the floor of casino, feigning drunkenness and staging a fight with the gambler who’d won the jackpot. The altercation would draw the remaining bystanders, all but clearing the balcony of potential witnesses and making it an ideal exchange spot. In Jonas’s experience, nothing drew eyes like a fight on the floor of a casino.  

Still, the SIS agent found himself nervous about this operation for some reason he couldn’t quite place. That’s why he’d called in backup to help him observe everything from his post.  

“You know, of the two of us, I’m supposed to be the one with the anxious reputation.” said the voice from behind him.

Jonas turned, giving Theron Shan a rather haughty smile. One of the top agents in the SIS and (technically) still a division head, Theron handed Jonas a steaming cup of caff, which he accepted with genuine gratitude.

“Well, maybe you’ve been rubbing off on me.” Jonas quipped. “I’ve seen you fret on these things more than a few times. Besides, you were the one who needed to get off Coruscant, remember?”

“I know, I know.” Theron held up a free hand. “Everyone’s still upset with me over that mess I made on Ziost.” He sipped his own cup of caff with a shake of his head as he let out a sigh. For a moment, his normally care-free demeanor slipped away, and Jonas could see the guilt weighing heavily on him.  

“I tell you, Jonas, I honestly don’t blame anyone for being angry with me. I should have called in the cavalry the moment I heard from my contact that the Emperor was back. Instead, I got most of my team killed, and that was before Saresh even called in the invasion out from under me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What a mess.”

Jonas felt an upswell of sympathy for Theron and his troubles. He knew the SIS agent had only ever done what he thought was right, even if that was exactly what got him into trouble most of the time.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up too much.” Jonas patted Theron on the shoulder of his trademark red jacket, giving him a smirk. “At least I still like you.”

Theron wrinkled his nose affectionately at his fellow agent, then rolled his eyes.

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true.” Jonas shrugged, still grinning. “And anyway. I did owe you one from that one incident at the Dealer’s Den back on Coruscant.” Jonas attempted to imitate Theron’s reproachful tone. “‘Jonas’ you said to me, ‘Casino jobs are always tricky. You need to plan to the last detail.’ And hey – you were right.”

“Well, at least this time you actually told me what the operation was. That should make it a little easier.” Theron gave him a scrutinizing look. “So you had a funny feeling about this exchange, and decided to call me in for backup?”

“You are here to add ambiance to an otherwise dreary observation post. Even if it is in an unofficial capacity.” Jonas found himself smirking again. “And hopefully, to start the process of rehabilitating your image with the top brass, even if you aren’t actually here officially.”

Theron nodded in gratitude.

“I appreciate that. I know you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“Don’t mention it. Just help me make sure tonight goes down alright.” Seeing that Rox was in position, Jonas turned back to the bank of monitors, noting the chrono indicator.

It was almost time.

Theron silently gave Jonas a thumb’s up signal as the slice command went through the system. From inside the casino came a blast of celebratory music as the jackpot hit, followed by a series of cheers from the crowd. Most of the handful people still on the balcony started making their way inside. The casino was known to offer a round of complimentary drinks for such rare events. Mere seconds later, shouting could be heard, indicating the scuffle had begun. On one of the peripheral screens, Jonas could see Dionne – a junior agent who showed promise and could play the ‘drunken bruiser’ well – shoving the beleaguered and confused Mon Calamari who’d won the rigged jackpot. The Zabrak’s antics drew even more interest from the casino’s guests than the jackpot had, both inside and out on the balcony. Four or five stragglers made their way inside, eager to watch. Jonas smirked at their reaction as he checked the chrono once again. Perfect timing. Within seconds, Rox, their contact, was one of only three people left still standing on the balcony.

Jonas’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the remaining two individuals; a young human couple who were standing in the far corner, holding each other in an intimate embrace. Jonas watched the man and woman carefully; you couldn’t be too cautious in this business. Both were wearing the revealing attire that had become so popular among socialites on Corellia since the battle there had ended three years before; the ‘Euphoric Corellian’, this look was called. Their arms and shoulders were laid bare, though their hands were gloved. The cut of the tunic was provocative, leaving their flanks bared and showing plenty of skin. This duo wore the outfits well, the woman’s was a deep green while the man wore a royal blue.  

He focused on the woman first; a beautiful brunette with shoulder-length hair, fair skin and green eyes that seemed to match her dress. Jonas would place her in her twenties. The Corellian outfit hugged her impressive feminine curves, but Jonas noted the equally impressive lean, athletic muscle of her arms as well. She wore no jewelry; her only accessory was a green purse she wore over her shoulder, and like her outfit, it matched her eyes perfectly. She was beaming adoringly up at her lover, with a dazzling smile that could have made even a Trandoshan’s heart flutter.    

Damn. Lucky boy. Jonas marveled, turning his attention to her companion.

The man was tall and broad-chested; from what he could see, Jonas would normally assume that he worked out extensively. The scarring, however, across his arms suggested otherwise, telling the tale of injuries suffered over the years; this man – like his companion, only in his twenties by Jonas’s eye – was no doubt a veteran soldier. Probably he’d seen action on Corellia during the war. Based on his attire, maybe he hadn’t been regular Republic military but part of the planetary militia or maybe CorSec. His hair was as raven black as Jonas’s, though the SIS agent suspected the man’s might have been dyed. Regardless, he was a good looking fellow, Jonas couldn’t help but notice. He could easily imagine him on a recruitment poster for the military or for some holo-ad campaign, and his hazel eyes were completely enraptured with the beautiful woman in his arms.  

Huh. Lucky girl. Jonas reflected, chuckling to himself.

His initial anxiety about the couple quickly faded; these two were clearly in love and hardly looked like they could be carrying any concealed weapons. They both clearly enjoyed an active lifestyle. He couldn’t pick up any audio from here – the device Rox was wearing was designed for conversations near him – but they were obviously whispering ‘sweet nothings’ in each other’s ears, holding each other and occasionally leaning in for a teasing kiss. They certainly weren’t paying attention to anyone or anything else but to each other and probably hadn’t even heard the jackpot or the fight from inside. They were plainly just enjoying each other’s company until it was time to withdraw back to their room in the hotel for the evening.

Jonas sighed inwardly, trying to remember how long it had been since he had withdrawn to his room with someone special. Almost on reflex, he glanced over at Theron, who seemed distracted scrutinizing another monitor.

No. Jonas thought to himself. Theron Shan had been fun enough on that late night years ago after a mission when they’d each had far too much to drink, but they’d both agreed afterward that it was better that they remain friends. And honestly, Theron was a good friend, one of the best he had in the galaxy. He shook his head to clear it and then turned back to his own screens.  

Regardless of anything else, that young couple shouldn’t be a problem during a simple handoff.

Confirming once more that Rox was otherwise alone, and naturally that he was looking nervous, Jonas turned to the entry door to the balcony. The time was one minute past the agreed time for the exchange; not enough to call it off just yet. This was always a concern for intelligence agents, but it was the price of working with criminals.

There he is.

The Nikto finally walked in, eyes glancing around the balcony, briefly noting the intimate couple in the corner before dismissing them just as quickly, finally focusing on Rox and approaching the Rodian. A quick holo-scan confirmed that he was unarmed; Jonas was confident the Casino’s security was up to that task of keeping lowlifes like Fhentar from carrying weapons, as they’d had far too many incidents of violence here over the past few years. Fhentar himself was a strange story; supposedly he’d been part of a cult on Taris that had worshipped a fallen Jedi years ago. The SIS file on that situation was still sealed tightly, even from someone of Jonas’s rank. How Fhentar had wound up working for Black Sun after his ‘religion’ had collapsed was anyone’s guess.  

Rox folded his arms, trying to give the Nikto a hard look, but to Balkar, it merely came off as petulant.

“You’re late.” The Rodian said in Huttese.

“And you’re impatient.” Fhentar retorted. “Give me a break. Didn’t you hear the commotion? The casino is going crazy right now.”

Jonas couldn’t deny the validity of the excuse, even if he didn’t trust it. It came with the territory of being a spy.

“Whatever.” Rox shrugged dismissively. “You have the disk?”

“Depends. You got my credits?” the larger Nikto wasn’t giving up any ground. It was the normal underworld posturing, practically clichéd at this point.

“Of course.” The Rodian pulled out the high-denomination credit stick from his belt. Jonas hoped the credits would prove to be money well-spent. The SIS budget was not unlimited.  

The Nikto knew the game, producing a data disk from his jacket.

“So who’re you selling this to, anyway?”

As Rox’s ‘tough’ demeanor – such as it was – started to falter, Jonas could almost smell the Rodian’s nervousness from here.

“Come on. I’m an information broker. You know I can’t talk about that. Not when my clients are paying for discretion, anyway.”

Jonas suddenly noticed some distortion on his monitors. He checked the sensors, but they all seemed to be coming up blank… wait.

There. A series of vibrations against the side of the Star Cluster that weren’t accounted for anywhere else; four distinct series in fact. Rapidly heading down towards the balcony.

Theron Shan noticed it, too. Jonas watched as he urgently plugged into the sensor grid through his cybernetic implants. Jonas hit the ‘standby’ button for his backup team.  

Meanwhile, the conversation was still ongoing.

“Ah, well.” Fhentar shrugged, with a degree of smugness. He tapped the button on his chrono-wristband. “If you’d actually told me now, it would have saved us all some time.”

Jonas was hitting the alert button before the Nikto even finished speaking.

“Team two! Move in! Move in!”

He watched helplessly as the four series of vibrations converged on the balcony. A moment later, he saw the tell-tale shimmer of stealth field generators shutting down as four armed figures in sneak-suits had suddenly surrounded Rox and Fhentar, each one attached at their belt to a rope running up the wall. The SIS agent realized immediately that they had rappelled down the side of the building. The Star Cluster’s sensors should have normally picked up the anomaly well before this. Something had gone wrong.

Many somethings were obviously going wrong.  

“My bosses want to know who’s got their eyes on their business, Rox.” Fhentar chuckled. “So my friends here are gonna take you up to the shuttle pad on the roof. I hope you aren’t afraid of heights.”

Jonas’s communicator beeped as the Rodian started to look around, panicking.

“Chief!” Wynnefred’s voice came through. “The kriffing catering trucks have blocked us off! We have to go around!”  

“Dammit!” Jonas’s hand slammed against the table, checking the layout and realizing he’d been outplayed. “My backup team is more than a minute away!”  

Theron just looked up at the array of screens and smirked.

“Mine’s not.” He reached up and tapped the relay on his earpiece.

Even afterwards, even with the benefit of re-watching the recordings at reduced speed, Jonas could still barely comprehend what took place over the next two seconds.

One second, the Nikto and the Rodian were surrounded by four armed assailants, ready to restrain Rox and take him away the same way they had come, all while the young couple in the corner of the balcony continued to bask in each other’s company, completely oblivious to the abduction taking place behind them.

The next second, there was a veritable explosion of movement. The young couple were gone and Fhentar and all four of his accomplices had been knocked to the ground. As for Rox, the panicked Rodian had fallen to his knees and found himself flanked by a pair of bodyguards… each of them brandishing lightsabers.

Jedi. Jonas marveled to himself.

Other things registered to Jonas. The long dark wig had fallen from the brunette’s head - he now observed her short red hair - and was lying on the floor of the balcony, an obvious consequence of coming out of a Force leap. Her purse had likewise been discarded, and he realized that was likely where they had been hiding their weapons. He noted that the woman’s lightsaber was of the fluorescent green double-bladed variety, while the man brandished a pair of radiant blue sabers.

But these were all secondary observations to Jonas, as he watched all four assailants – apparently oblivious to the fact that they were completely outmatched – attempt to rise to their feet and to press the attack, only to be cut down in a flurry of brutally efficient lightsaber strikes.  

Apparently wiser than his fellows, Fhentar remained prone on the ground. Jonas could hear his lamentations through Rox’s audio device.  

“No! Not Jedi again!” he groaned, raising his hands in the air and plainly giving himself up.

Jonas was right about to turn to Theron in for an explanation when recognition dawned on him.

Wait.

Jonas’s eyes refocused on the man. The shade of his hair and eyes were off, and he was missing that distinctive scar going down his left cheek, but his physical build, the twin blue lightsabers and his red-headed companion…

Jonas’s jaw dropped in realization and he gaped.

“That’s the Hero of Tython!” he whirled on Theron.

Theron Shan was doing absolutely nothing to suppress his amusement.

“Yup. Colored contact lenses, some hair dye, and cosmetics. Plus a wig on Kira – his partner – obviously. No one in their right mind would ever expect to see a Jedi dressed like that.” Theron smiled. “I put a scan-blocker in Kira’s bag. Hutt security trains to look for blasters, knives and explosives, not for lightsabers.”

Jonas finally let out an exhale, realizing only then that he’d been holding his breath.

“I’d heard you’d been working with him.” He offered, turning back to his screens as the gears of his mind started to turn. “Not a perfect night, but its salvageable. Rox is still breathing and we took Fhentar alive. It shouldn’t be too hard to flip him, even without the recordings. Not ideal, but he should at least be able to give up some Imperial drop points.”

He nodded, turning back to Theron with a grateful smile.

“Well. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Theron chuckled. “Like you said, something about this exchange felt off. I might have waited too long to ‘call in the cavalry’ on Ziost, but I wasn’t going to make the same mistake here.”

“After all, everyone needs backup sometimes.”

“That we do. Please make sure to pass on my appreciation.” Jonas smiled back, then turned back to the monitoring station.

“So you had Halcyon and Carsen pose as a couple?”

Theron smirked boyishly, obviously pleased with himself at the deception.

“Clever, huh? I was worried they wouldn’t be able to pull it off, being Jedi and everything. But they were great out there. Hell, they could have fooled me.”

Jonas turned away from his fellow SIS agent, regarding the screens as Wynnefred and his team finally arrived to take Fhentar into custody and to deal with the bodies of the four fallen assailants. Despite the Nikto’s importance going forward, Jonas’s focus again zeroed in on the pair of young Jedi.

Halcyon was cautiously turning Fhentar over to the security team. Clearly, the Jedi Battlemaster wasn’t taking chances. Carsen was standing beside him, positioned protectively over Rox. But their postures were aligned towards each other; Halcyon turned just so his wide stance was open to Carsen, who likewise was turned towards him, her eyes gazing up at him affectionately as he conferred with Jonas’s backup team leader.

Theron Shan was one of the cleverest intelligence operatives Jonas knew, and he was nearly as good an analyst. But sometimes, he couldn’t see the forest from the trees.

For once though, Jonas decided to keep his observations to himself.

Well. At least somebody’s going to bed happy tonight. He suspected, with an envious look back at the couple.

 Author’s Notes: I just take it as a given that Theron and Jonas once had a brief thing.

Fhentar shows up on Taris during the Imperial Agent story, serving the memorable Ki Sazen. Obviously, in my legacy, he survived his encounter with Cipher Nine. Unfortunately for him, his new employers don’t appear to be much better than the old ones. Rox and Balkar’s subordinates are my own creation.

The mention of Havoc Squad’s trip to the Star Cluster Casino for the SIS is obviously a reference to the Trooper’s class mission to Nar Shaddaa.

The Euphoric Corellian armor set is a real thing. It’s probably illegal on some planets.

Rodians get shafted in this game and in the greater Star Wars universe in general. So I feel bad for piling on.

Tagging people who expressed interests - @swtorshipping​ , @swtor-writers-guild​ , @raven-of-domain-kwaad​ , @ask-an-andalite​ , @a-muirehen​ , @taraum​ , @theravenassassin95​ , @sleepswithvillains​ , @blueburds​ , @sunnysayshello​

[aion-rsa]

Star Wars: The Book of Boba Fett Episode 2 Easter Eggs Explained

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This Star Wars: The Book of Boba Fett article contains spoilers.

Despite the desert planet’s reputation as the middle of nowhere of the galaxy, a lot of things happen on Tatooine. In the second episode of The Book of Boba Fett, the bounty hunter turned crime lord digs further into Mos Espa’s underworld and learns from the Tusken desert-dwellers. Along with the Tusken culture we detailed last week, there are quite a few Star Wars deep cuts to see in “The Tribes of Tatooine.”

Take a look at all the Star Wars easter eggs and references we spotted in this episode…

Black Krrsantan

The Hutt twins’ Wookiee bounty hunter is Black Krrsantan, a key character in Marvel’s Doctor Aphra series and other comics. He worked for Jabba the Hutt in the era of the Empire as well as Darth Vader. During this part of his career he also fought Han Solo and Chewbacca. Black Krrsantan was a brutal fighter, whether in hand-to-hand combat or with his species’ signature weapon, the bowcaster.

Read more about Black Krrsantan here.

Pyke Syndicate

The Pyke Syndicate appears here after numerous animated appearances in The Clone Wars and their live action debut in Solo: A Star Wars Story. A large gang, they traffic in spice, fuel, and people. The leader of the gang in this episode appears to be a new character, but wears a smaller version of their signature snake-inspired helmets.

Order of the Night Wind

The assassins who went after Boba and Fennec turn out to be from the Order of the Night Wind, a new (or at least newly named) group. They bear a passing resemblance to the Kage Warriors, a group Boba Fett encountered in The Clone Wars (also in an episode with a train), but there doesn’t seem to be any connection.

The Hutt Twins, Nal Hutta, and Hutt Space

– The Hutt twins are new characters, said to be Jabba’s cousins.

– They delayed their trip to Tatooine because they were enjoying the “debauchery” of Nal Hutta, the Hutt homeworld. This planet has appeared in numerous tie-in media, including in The Clone Wars, which showed the ruling body to be a “Grand Hutt Council.” George Lucas created the original design of the planet, a swampy place. Later, The High Republic series stated that the swampy state isn’t natural, but a result of an invasion of the sapient plant creatures known the Drengir.

– The Hutts have carved out their own empire at the edge of the Republic, known as Hutt Space. It has remained independent under both Republics and the Empire, although it faces attempts at takeovers from both inside and out.

– The insult the assassin throws at Boba Fett is “E chu ta,” a Huttese curse. It featured in The Empire Strikes Back to show the dire straits the characters found themselves in at Imperial-occupied Bespin, as C-3PO is shocked even a fellow protocol droid would be so rude as to say it to him.

Mayor Mok Shaiz, Ithorians, and Robert Rodriguez

Showrunner and director Robert Rodriguez voices Mayor Mok Shaiz, the Ithorian in charge of Mos Espa. Ithorians speak in a multi-layered language with one mouth on either side of their necks, requiring the mayor to wear a translation device to speak Basic.

Laze “Fixer” Loneozner, Camie Marstrap, and Tosche Station

One of the most famous Star Wars locations that never officially appeared on film, Tosche Station is where Boba rustles up some speeder bikes. It’s established as Luke Skywalker’s local hangout in A New Hope.

A scene that would have shown Luke hanging out with his friends and watching the battle where the Empire captured Princess Leia was cut from the film but today can be found pretty easily online. At the time of A New Hope, Tosche Station was more of a garage and repair shop than a bar. It was a sleepy place for rural teens to hang out. It appears to have gotten much seedier in the meantime, now serving as a bar where alien Nikto miners push the human regulars around.

Those regulars are Laze “Fixer” Loneozner (Skyler Bible) and Camie Marstrap (Mandy Kowalski), two of Luke Skywalker’s friends from the aforementioned deleted scene. Both tended to gently mock Luke and his friend Biggs, calling Luke “Wormie.” Laze and Camie were originally played in A New Hope by Anthony Forrest and Koo Stark, respectively.

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Kessel, Mustafar, and Kamino

– The spice on the train is coming from Kessel, the infamous planet where gangs use slave labor to harvest the drug. It has appeared as a criminal hot bed in both canon and Legends after C-3PO first mentioned the dismal conditions of the mines in A New Hope. The planet finally appeared on the big screen in Solo.

– The lava planet Mustafar makes a fitting metaphor for being in hot water. It’s the site of the climactic fight between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader in Revenge of the Sith. It later appeared at the start of The Rise of Skywalker.

– Like in the first episode, we see a glimpse of Kamino, Boba Fett’s homeworld from Attack of the Clones. Its destruction at the hands of the Empire was dramatized in The Bad Batch.

Pod Racer

The rocket engine on top of the train looks salvaged from a pod racer, the dangerous race cars of Tatooine as seen in The Phantom Menace.

Western Tropes

– Tuskens continue to take roughly the role Native Americans tend to take in Western movies, as people with knowledge of the land and little technology who work with a heroic outsider.

– Trains and train robberies are a staple of Westerns, with too many appearances and subsequent parodies or references in other genres to list.

Steph Green

The episode was directed by Steph Green. You’ve definitely seen her work in many other genre series, including Luke Cage, Watchmen, The Man in the High Castle, Bates Motel, and Preacher. The Book of Boba Fett is her first Star Wars credit but hopefully not her last!

The post Star Wars: The Book of Boba Fett Episode 2 Easter Eggs Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[capricornus-rex]

Inseparable Dyad (3)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: When Cal follows his instincts to revisit Zeffo, you sense a great disturbance and urgency in the Force. A trap was set by bounty hunters who wanted either—or both—of your heads, but no one knows who has put the price.

1 | 2 | 4 | Masterlist

3 of ?

Cal wakes up to the sound of crackling electricity and hollow clanging metal. This cell looked different from the Haxion Brood’s, and he guessed that the place is much more different too. He was relieved to find BD-1 still well and with him, but he did not find you and his lightsaber with him.

“[y/n]...” he muttered your name. He ran up to the door and slammed it, raising his voice to call your name and hope for a reply.

Impatient of the silence and the absence of your voice, he yelled. “[Y/N]!!!”

“Oy, shaddup!!” a warden appeared and hit back Cal’s door with his baton.

“Where is she?!”

“She? Dunno what yer talkin’ about!”

The warden walked away, ignoring Cal’s cries to him. Cal retreated to the metal slab sticking out of the wall and sat down. Slowing down his breathing, he resorted to sitting down on the floor—in the middle of the room—and planting all ten fingers on the floor.

“[y/n]...” he whispered.

Cal hoped to get something—a pulse, a jolt, a push, something. Anything that could lead to you meant something. Anything would give him hope that you are in the same place as he is. He was speaking to the wind, but he meant his words for you, he spoke in a hush—albeit the wardens could care less if they had heard. 

“[y/n]... I will find you. You’re here, I know it. Your presence…” he suddenly trailed off.

He saw a series of images and sensations, but it appeared to be in your perspective: a long hallway with a light at the end, incoherent roaring, and cracked sandstone walls. He wondered if you were the ones sending those to his mind. It was only pure speculation—but a likely one. 

Although the images were abruptly cut off. Intuition tells him that it was you but something or someone interfered—and he’s right. You were dragged out of your cell and brought to an office chamber which you presumed to be the leader’s.

“I take it you’re the one who runs things here?” you dryly asked, tired of hearing the suckling sounds of his etiquette-less way of eating whatever’s on his plate.

“Ah, you’re as sharp as you are pretty,” the boss wagged his oil-covered finger at you while he sucks on the other.

“I’m afraid we haven’t met,”

He stood up from his seat, leaving his food, and stepped closer to you. The leader was a male Nikto—skin as orange as burnt sand, a sickly yellow pair of eyes with matching teeth to boot, and spikes that have begun to flake. Now that he was closer, you can see the wrinkles on his face, you could tell that he was either middle-aged or old.

“I am Mux Odra. Pleasure to make your acquaintance!” he presented himself flamboyantly, taking one step back to make a curtsy.

You did not respond to his introduction, you kept silent while sneering down at him.

“Come now, sweetie, and you are?”

“The person who’s going to destroy you,” you smiled, your answer tinged with sarcasm hiding malicious intent.

Mux Odra chuckled, somewhat amused by your bravery, “You seem to be very brave, aren’t you? I wonder if your price is higher compared to your ginger boyfriend because of that bravery,”

You did not flinch at the mention of his name so as to not give Mox Odra an idea of exploiting you in any way. You were able to maintain your cool while keeping your dry, indifferent tone when conversing with Mux. He returns to his seat, continuing where he left off with his meal and drink.

“Where are we? Who sent you?”

You stayed still, concentrating on his stature and voice, and casually observing portions of his office. When you have focused hard enough, you secretly tried to use the Force and find Cal using a connection. It worked earlier before you were taken out of your cell.

“Now, now, one at a time now, dear. Firstly, you are in Tonduk—a planet in the Outer Rim, away from the Empire’s reach, and where the only law is that there is no law.”

“Who sent you?” you repeated.

Much to your chagrin, Mux ignored that question, pretending that he did not hear. He stared at his goblet while gently swirling it around to mix the liquor in it.

“Okay, what are you going to do with us?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” the tone in his voice was sinister.

Mux leaned back to his chair, smirked and brought his glass to his lips to drink.

There wasn’t much time to lose, Cal needed to think of something quick if he wanted to get to you. He realizes that this was similar to the time he was held captive by Sorc Tormo, the only difference is that you were captured too; though he theorizes that this couldn’t be Sorc Tormo’s doing. He slightly remembered the face of the one who tied his hands together—they were masked, lightly armored but heavily armed with a large blaster cannon, he just couldn’t make out if it was human or another species.

The cell door suddenly opens, standing at the doorway was a male human who was clad in the same armor as your captors, except he wasn’t wearing his helmet. He was also accompanied by two other lackeys, possibly human too.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking, kid, it’s a bad idea. You best come with me,” the guard coaxes Cal with his blaster and he follows.

Cal was obedient—for now. It wouldn’t be wise to pull off a Jedi mind trick on three armed guards. But what he wanted to happen to see the images that you see, just like what happened moments ago before he was brought out of the cell. He continued walking, occasionally getting shoved at the back with the barrel of the blaster when the guard was in a rush, and eventually was led out to another arena.

“Oh man, not again,” Cal groaned to himself as he shaded his eyes from the blinding light amidst the roaring crowd.

He ignored the crowd, searched the arena for the top box where the boss is expected to sit and watch in a front-row view, it didn’t take him long to find it—there was a large balcony sticking out of the wide row of bleachers.

“There he is, ladies and gentlemen! Our fabled Jedi!”

The crowd went wild, waving streamers and small flags, throwing their fists in cheer at Cal’s introduction.

“Boy oh boy, do I have a lot in store for you! Though I hope you make it to the end,”

“I think you have something of mine!” Cal called out to the balcony.

“Ah! Of course, give the pretty boy his pretty toy.”

One of the guards that escorted him tossed his lightsaber to him before vanishing into the darkness of the tunnel from which they emerged.

“ARE YOU REAAADYYY!!?”

Mux’s announcer impression got the crowd’s blood pumping, with most of the audience already standing up while throwing their fists in the air and screaming at the top of their lungs until their throats tear.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Mux chuckled, and then his expression instantaneously shifted from suave to sinister. “Let’s see if he’s really like what the bedtime stories say!”

Mux snarled and with a touch of a button, the cage doors around the arena open and release an array of small creatures.

They were too easy for Cal to deal with. Mux had only released a bunch of acid-spitting spiders like the ones in Dathomir, and then a batch of unusually large womp rats in the middle of Cal dealing with the spiders.

“Hmph, not bad, but I guess little pests like those are just too easy huh? Alrighty then, a challenge it is!”

Mux released a Slyyyg and then a swarm of Mynocks altogether. Cal pulled the swarm towards him with his Force-pull, he severed them in many parts with his graceful footwork and spinning technique. The Slyyyg spewed out its red-hot secretion towards Cal but he was quick to evade and then counterattack—he severed the slug in three parts. The crowd cheered again with animalistic vigor, they root for the blood and carnage that seems to entertain them.

“Oh come on, you’re really slacking there now. Perhaps you need a little motivation?”

Cal was quick enough to read between the lines. He sensed something in Mux’s words, Cal knows that Mux is keeping you somewhere. He can feel your presence near him but he cannot find you… yet.

[velociraptors-dont-lie]

My Way (Four)

Summary: Anita passes the eye of the storm. 

Warnings:....More swearing? perhaps.  

A/N: Short one. Before it all kicks up. I wanna say, Anita is british for any that are confused by the way she seems to be. We’re all bit crazy over here. lol. Also....i hate this, hehe. 

Read on AO3 ,Part one here. Part Two here. Part Three here.

Chapter Four

Kuiil had given her a cloak and a pair of ratty old shoes to wear to protect her healing feet. Thankfully enough the cloak kept her dry from the rain that had decided to appear on their journey to find the Jawas.

The blurgg, as they had called it, was dragging a large... Anita was going to call it boat because that's what it looked like. It's what she and the Mandalorian were sat on... in the rain.

Luckily enough, Scamp was more than content to stay hidden inside his pod, safe from being pelted with falling water. It rained all through the night but somewhere during the journey she had fallen asleep, woken only when the sun had reared its ugly head.

''They really don't like you for some reason.'' she heard Kuiil speak, addressing the Mandalorian who was still sat in the same position as when they had left.

''Well I did disintegrate a few of them.'' Anita rolled her eyes at his reply to Kuiil opening the pod to check on Scamp, who was already awake and waiting to go. He crawled out of his pod and into her lap, looking up at her and fiddling with the jewellery around her neck.

Kuiil had told The Mandalorian to drop his weapon and after little arguing, he reluctantly did so. She stayed with the child on the makeshift vehicle as Kuiil and Mando went to talk to the Jawas about getting his parts back. Scamp seemed interested in everything going on whilst also clinging onto the crystal hanging from his mothers neck.

Anita watched them calmly, noting that the Mandalorian's weapons were close by should she need to use or throw them to him. Squinting with annoyance as they mocked him for his broken Jawa he tried to speak, amused when he tried to fry a few alive.

Though her guard was instantly up and her arms wrapped around Scamp when two Jawas came up to them, interested in the green creature in her lap. Anita's eyes darted to the gun left beside her when a sudden shout called out.

''Get away from them!''

It was only a minute later when they started chanting something in their language. Excited when the deal was struck and everyone was ushered onto their crawling fortress.

''What do they want?''

''An egg.'' The Mandalorian replied.

''An...egg?''

She sat between him and a Jawa in the fortress as it made its journey to wherever this egg was. Only slightly creeped out by the one who drawled out the word in his language whilst staring at the Mandalorian.

They stopped seemingly in the middle of nowhere but Anita thought the entire planet was near enough deserted, so she trusted the Jawa's enough to assume they knew where to go. She, Scamp, Kuiil and the Mandalorian were stood by the door as it dropped waiting to leave to find the egg.

He moved and the pod followed, but as Anita went to take her steps to follow, he stopped and turned to look at her. ''You're staying.''

Anita smiled sweetly, hummed out her laughter and shook her head. ''No.''

He watched her walk past him, bag on her shoulders still and though impressed that she was ready to face whatever dangers awaited them, she was still injured. ''You are still hurt.''

''No more hurt than I was without the shoes. Thank you, kuiil!'' Anita bent slightly over the pod, making sure her white lab coat was cushion enough for Scamp to be comfortable on. ''He's going? I'm going. Bye now, I actually want off this planet.''

She gripped onto the pod with one hand and dragged it off into a direction, intent on getting the egg herself if he was just going to sit there and complain that she shouldn't go. She heard him sigh, his armour making noises as he approached and took her upper arm in his hand.  

''It's this way.''

Smiling in victory, yet surprised at the gentle hold he had gripped her with, she followed him with little care. Warming up to the man hadn't been all that hard, he barely spoke, hadn't cared to annoy her with anything and only kept them safe from harm.

She had no idea who she would be with when they got to Nevarro, but she hoped they were as gentle as the Mandalorian seemed to be. After walking for another long while, he finally stopped in a crater, there was a hole in the side of the sand wall where Anita assumed the egg would be.

''Wait here this time.'' He told her, lifting his arm and fiddling with something. She wanted to argue but held her tongue since the pod stayed next to her when he walked away. Anita had a bad feeling about this, something about the whole area screamed danger, but she didn't want to leave Scamp alone to fetch their protector.

Jumping in her spot when he fired in gun and then once more when he was thrown from the hole. Something roared then showed itself, large and Rhino like except it was covered in ...moss like hair and mud.

The Mandalorian tried to prepare his gun and fire it but was hit by the horn of the space Rhino and was thrown backwards again. Anita scrunched her face and hissed as though she had felt the pain herself.

His gun knocked away from him, the Space rhino turned its attentions on Scamp and herself, her heart dropping into her stomach. The pod was moved away from her and out of danger at the wave of his arm, and he yelled out as Anita didn't move until the last minute to avoid the creature turning at the last moment, instead going face-first into the wall behind her.

Attention back on the Mandalorian, Anita wondered what she could do to help as if she had any fightings skills whatsoever. She worried about him, none of his weapons are defences were affective, and she could feel something within her stirring. A pain and a fear of actually losing the one person who seemed to helping, who seemed to have a heart.

Scamp looked up at the woman who cared for him, seeing her step forward in hesitation, her face contorted in worry and he himself wanted to do something. The woman who had adopted him and treated him like her own son had never cried, had never expressed a fear such as this and he wanted nothing more than to stop the tear she didn't even know was trailing down her cheek.

The creature brace and prepared to charge, The Mandalorian pulled a tiny knife from his side and took his own last stand but before the creature could hit him, it stopped and struggled. Lifting into the air as though some invisible force was doing it, both pairs of eyes turning to look down at the child in his pod who had a hand reached out.

Anita panicked when Scamp dropped his hand and fell back, checking him over for injuries as the Mandalorian won the fight against the creature. Satisfied that her child was merely exhausted and sleeping, she turned her attentions as she dropped her bag next to the pod.  

''Manny!'' her feet slipped in the mud, but she hardly cared for as she slipped to her knees to next to him. ''Are you okay? Any bones broken or gashes that need cleaning? Your head hurt? I'll close my eyes, and you take of the helmet to check for wounds!?''

Glad the helmet kept her from seeing his confused face as she searched him over for injuries, he gently caught her wrists in his hands and, though she couldn't see it, smiled gently. ''I'm fine. The child-''

''He's fine! He's sleeping! Whatever he did, it exhausted him.'' She glanced over to her boy sleeping in his boy. ''did you feel it? The energy in the air?'' she watched his helmet shake from side to side, confusing her.

Anita did feel it in the air, the raw energy that swirled in the atmosphere in a way that she could have touched had she just lifted her own hands. She tried to help him up, but what with the mud so slippery, they only ended up crashing to the floor again, covering her in just as much mud as he was covered in.

He disappeared inside the cave again and reappeared with the egg in hand. The pod following him once again as they made the journey back to the Jawa's and Kuiil.

''He's never done that before.''

Anita shook her head. ''No. I've never seen him do anything like that. But it now tells me why the Nikto's were so hell-bent on keeping him.'' He hummed in reply, not another word said between them even when they arrived back to the Jawas.

They seemed happy to see the egg, cheering and when they had it, they cracked it open and began to scoop out its contents like Pooh bear and jar of honey. Anita rested on the thing she had been calling a boat and when all his ship parts were piled on, she rested back against them.

She pulled Scamps pod in close, closed her eyes and drifted off as though his own energy bending had exhausted her as well. They were working on the ship when she woke up, watching them contently and learning as she tried to feed Scamp while he slept.

The ship slowly but surely ended up looking pretty cool, and she couldn't wait to see it turned on.  Exploring its little characteristics while the two men talked.

''Thank you for the shoes and medical supplies, Kuiil! I hope to see you again!'' Kuiil waved from the blurrg and Anita climbed the ladder into the cockpit, sitting in the passenger chair. Leg's bouncing excitedly as the Mandalorian pushed the pod into her lap and prepared to turn on his ship.

The rumble of the engines were almost as loud as the heartbeat in her ears, The ship lifted from the ground and flew off into the sky.

''Oh wow.'' The Mandalorian looked over at Anita as he heard the whisper, seeing her eyes scouring the vast darkness of space, the numerous stars, and he could see the slight sheen ion her eyes.

''You act like you've never seen space before.''

''Not like this.'' She replied. ''Only ever from the ground. Space travel was limited to our moon on my planet. We're nowhere near this advanced on space travel -'' She lifted her feet slightly ''-medical supplies. Bacta? Amazing.''  

''you must have felt out of place.''

''Very. But it's nice to see this now, before you hand us over to whoever. I doubt space travel is gonna be in my future when we get to nevarro.''

He felt guilty all of a sudden, remembering how he'd lied to her. The client wasn't going to need her for whatever they needed the child for and she wasn't going to be happy about it at all. Whatever trust she had built up for him was going to be torn down, shredded and eaten by the anger she'll direct at him.

The gentle cooing of the child distracted Anita from asking anymore questions. He told her where she could clean up and she took the child with her, leaving him to wallow in his own guilt.

Tags:

@buckysalefty​

Picture (if its there) was made with some xmen dress up game thing I found. It’s what Anita’s hair looked like before the months on Arvala-seven. as of this chapter. There’s about 3 to 4 inches of brown virgin hair grown in. and its probably faded to less vibrant blue

[queen-scribbles]

★★★★★

Keme Edition :D

Her favorite color is burgundy and she looks damn good in it.

She raised so much hell over Jorgan’s demotion she almost got in trouble herself, and she’s pretty sure she gave a couple people minimum nightmares (dealing with a pissed off cathar is not a pleasant experience). When nothing came of that beyond a couple polite-but-stern talking to’s of the “Stop Harassing My Staff, Lieutenant >:(” variety for her, she decided success was the best(and most petty) revenge, which will largely take care of itself bc individually they’re very good at what they do, together they’re gonna be basically unstoppable.

Absolutely loves spicy food. The hotter the better. Even if it does make her sneeze.

Since I am planning to work out/share her whole backstory(via either fic or meta), have the tl;dr version for now: She was born and raised as a slave to a crime syndicate that was 85-90% Rattataki with a scattering of humans, zabrak, Nikto etc All the positions of power were held by Rattataki, however, and they were... excessively cruel people. She escaped when she was sixteen. On her third try. (The repercussions of the previous attempts are the reason for her uncharitable (to put it lightly /cough) feelings toward Rattataki. And most of her scars.

She still has the slouchy, hand-me-down boots that were part of the first clothes she actually owned after the Republic found/rescued her following her escape. They’re significantly more beat up now, of course, but she still wears them when she’s off-duty--and sometimes even on-duty when circumstances are less than official, like the Wild Space Expedition, for example. :) (these would be the Bold Hellion boots)

[greyias]

87. “Hey! I was gonna eat that!”

Part three of the Adorkable “Date Night”. Part 1 can be found here, and Part 2 can be found here. The entire opening sequence inspired by @quatraquartz​’s beautiful tags, and I felt I needed to incorporate them somehow.

The problem with the Gilded Lily was that even with a reservation (or pilfered one in their case), the line stretched out nearly into the street. Theron peered around the large crowd of people between them and the maître d’, unable to determine exactly how long this was going to take to get seated. If absolutely necessary, he could probably cause some sort of distraction that could clear the way, although that would likely gather a little too much attention for their purposes. His companion was doing enough of that at the moment, leaning a little too far with each step and wobbling unsteadily.

“I thought Jedi were supposed to be graceful,” he said quietly as she leaned back trying to overcompensate, latching onto his arm.

“Why did you pick out these shoes?” she hissed back. “I don’t see how anyone can stand in these things.”

“Walk on the balls of your feet,” he suggested, deciding that he should probably appear somewhat helpful. Better than revealing that half of his reason for picking out the golden stilettos was that the sway of her hips when she had tried them on had effectively shorted out his brain.

“I am standing on them,” Grey insisted, hand not leaving its vice-like grip on his arm, “but this is not practical footwear.”

“We just have to look the part long enough to get in close enough to identify both the buyer and the seller, and make sure they’ve got the data on them. You’ll be sitting down most of the time.”

“I don’t see why that requires heels,” she pouted.

Theron resisted rolling his eyes, and just pointed to the rest of the ladies milling about in line, or visible inside the restaurant’s patio — and about eighty percent of them were wearing similar shoes. Her lower lip protruded as she took that in, face still set firmly in a frown. The disdain over her current footwear was just the latest in a series of recurring complaints. At least it was a far less distracting one than her annoyed mutter about how uncomfortable it was to feel her thighs constantly brushing together, or the long diatribe on how the underwire on the bra she’d had to change into kept digging into her ribs. He was fairly proud of the fact that he’d managed to stay as focused on the mission as he was despite the fact that she kept obliviously reminding him of the very attractive form underneath that dress.

The line moved up and despite the tight grip on his forearm, she wobbled with the next step they took. One of the Zeltrons hanging off the arm of a Neimoidian looked back at the unsteady Jedi with a disdainful look, and Theron immediately adjusted his grip, pulling his arm free so he could wrap it around Grey’s waist and steady her. The Zeltron sniffed haughtily, but quickly lost interest.

“What are you doing?”

“Hopefully convincing our fellow patrons that I brought an actual person with me on this fake date and not a newborn equus learning how to walk for the first time.”

“I know how to walk!” she protested. “It’s just these stupid heels.”

The phrase “just use the Force” was almost out of his mouth, but he quickly thought better of it as she leveled him with a dark look, as if sensing his next words. So he bit back on that and instead said, “You’re attracting attention.”

“I’m not trying to,” she huffed quietly, “but I am also not sure what I’m supposed to be doing right now.”

“For now, just pretend like you’re my girlfriend.”

“I am your girlfriend!”

“Good, then you should already know how to play this part.”

That earned him a glare and a sharp pinch to his side. “That is not helpful.”

He let out an annoyed sigh, but before he could respond the line in front of them opened up, finally clearing a path between them and the maître d’s station. He tightened his grip around her waist, and she leaned into him as they approached it. With the extra support, any wobbliness just appeared like any overly affectionate couple on a date.

“I am not in my element here,” she added softly as they stopped in front of the empty station, waiting for the maître d’ to return.

“Just follow my lead,” he muttered absently. Now that they were right at the entrance, he had a better view of the tables inside the restaurant. He quickly glanced around, but there was sign of the Nikto from earlier. “Act natural, like you would on any date.”

There was silence at his side, almost unnoticed by him as he kept scanning the tables. From what he’d gathered from the reservation list he’d sliced into, the sale would take place out on the balcony overlooking the Promenade — but there was no telling if either the buyer or seller had thought to bring extra muscle and stash them throughout the restaurant. 

“And how would you do that?” came the quiet question after a long pause.

“Do what?”

“Act… on a date?”

He frowned, looking back to see an uncertain expression across her face. “You have been on a date before, haven’t you?”

“This… might be my first.”

If there had been any convenient holes to crawl into, Theron might have done so — mission or no. He had a tendency to get absorbed into the job, so much so that it was easy to forget the normal boyfriend things. Between the natural rhythm they’d fallen into since their reunion on Odessen, and the long five years they’d been apart, sometimes it slipped his mind that this relationship thing was just as much of an oddity for her as it was for him. Perhaps moreso, since somehow between the two of them he had more experience with actual romantic relationships — which considering that it hadn’t even occurred to him to take his girlfriend of several months out on a single date once in all that time, probably didn’t bode well long-term. Adding in the fact that now their first one wasn’t even real, combined with his general irritability this entire evening had him flashing her a look of contrition.

Unfortunately this was also the moment the maître d’ decided to reappear, and Theron had to slip back into his role for the evening — the attentive and smooth boyfriend he very clearly was not — and fixed a wide smile back in place for the benefit of their cover.

“Do you have a reservation?” The well-dressed Kroctari asked in the nasally tone typical of his species. 

“Yes,” Theron answered smoothly, “it should be located under Balkar. Jonas Balkar.”

The Kroctari wheezed in response and pulled up the datapad to confirm the reservation, completely missing the arched blond brow quirked in Theron’s direction. He narrowed his ever-so-slightly at her in warning, but kept the wide smirk fixed in place as the maître d’ looked back up at them.

“Ah, right this way, Mr. Balkar,” the Kroctari’s pronunciation of the name sounded almost more like a burp, “we have your usual table set up on the balcony.”

They made it to the table without any incident, even with the climb up the stairs. He decided that the fingers digging into his side hard enough to leave a bruise were probably justified considering he was the architect of this awkward evening. Grey sunk into her seat with a quiet sigh, seemingly grateful to be off her feet, and Theron took a moment as he sat down to scan the area. Their table was off in the far corner, and had a good vantage point of the entire restaurant. The table that had been marked for the Nikto from the Promenade on the reservation list he’d sliced into was still empty, waiting for its occupants to arrive. 

He let out a quiet sigh of relief. There was still time to turn this whole botched operation around.

“Trouble?”

“Not yet,” he said after a moment, “looks like we got here first.”

“Well, that’s not surprising. I thought you were going to force your way through that line for a moment there.”

Theron had the grace to look slightly chagrinned. “The thought had crossed my mind, I won’t lie.”

“I know you’re concerned about the mission, Theron,” she reached out across the table, wrapping her fingers around his where they rested on the rather large drink menu, “but it will be fine. I promise.”

He tried not to let his frown show, but it was a struggle. It was difficult to not take this whole thing a little personally. It was his job to take care of everything, make sure he sniffed out anyone unfriendly to the Alliance before they ever made their way onto Odessen. It was the only place in the galaxy relatively safe from Arcann’s considerable influence, and now even that wasn’t certain unless he didn’t screw this up. Considering the woman sitting across from him was on the top of Zakuul’s Most Wanted List, that made the stakes pretty high.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that, he needed to keep his mind sharp. Focused on the task at a hand. Something that was a little more difficult with the warm feeling of her hand on his. The action was both comforting and distracting at the same time, although it was nothing out of the ordinary for any normal couple on a romantic night on the town. It was a sweet gesture, even if a little distracting. He compromised, and gave her fingers a soft return squeeze, before gently withdrawing his hands and picking up the drink menu.

There was only the briefest flashes of disappointment across her face, and he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat as he tried to ignore that, and instead look like he was more interested in the menu. If he twisted in his seat a little and tilted the menu just so, he had a perfect view of the table where the meet was going to go down. Across from him, Grey seemed to be trying to actually read the text on what he was holding up.

She let out a quiet noise of disbelief. “That’s a lot of zeroes for a drink.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up briefly. “Wait until you see what they charge for the food.”

“Are all of your undercover missions this extravagant?”

“You know what they say,” Theron shrugged a shoulder, “when on Nar Shadda… blow your entire salary on one bottle of Crème D'Infame.”

“That’s not how I’ve heard that phrase go.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Well, it’s probably more truthful.”

“Perhaps it would be more financially sound to order water.”

Oh, of course. Because that wouldn’t be suspicious at all.

Theron finished his fake perusal of the drink menu just as the waiter came up to take their order. Before his financially conscientious companion could speak, he quickly put in a request for some Corellian Twisters. He ignored the frown directed his way, instead made a show of ordering a round of cracknel for an appetizer as if they were settling in for a long evening. Actually, it was possible they were.

Theron checked the chronometer in the HUD on his ocular implants, realizing they still had a wait on their hands. As far as stakeouts went, he’d been on worse ones, with less enjoyable company. With nothing else to do but wait, he should try and repair at least a little of the damage he’d done.

“That was not water.”

“Nope,” he said, “but it’s less likely to attract attention. We’re supposed to be on a date, remember?”

“Is expensive alcoholic drinks usually part of the dating experience?”

“It is for Jonas Balkar.”

“Well, Jonas, you like to throw around money, don’t you?”

“Nothing but the best,” Theron shot her a smirk, “and I figure my old pal wouldn’t mind lending his name out for the sake of galactic security.”

“Old pal, huh? So that’s not just one of your aliases?”

“Hardly!” His bark of laughter seemed to startle her. “He’s a good guy.” Theron paused, then added, “Although if you ever tell him I said that I’ll deny it.”

“I would have to meet him first,” she said with a hint of a smile. 

“I don’t know,” he paused, “he’s got a way with the ladies. Not sure I want to deal with the competition.”

That got a roll of the eyes and a resigned sigh. “Do you honestly believe there is something to compete over?”

“Well, considering that at least as far as this restaurant’s concerned, he’s taken you on your first date, maybe.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “Theron.”

He let out a sigh, sending one glance back at the still empty table, before deciding to try out that fabled work-life balance he’d heard people talk about before. Mimicking her action from before, he took her hand in his, brushing his thumb across her knuckles.

“Look. Sometimes I get a little caught up in the job and I forget things I shouldn’t.” He swallowed, mouth a little dry. Perhaps that order of water wasn’t completely impractical. “Normal everyday things. Like taking you to nice places outside of missions.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do,” he said with more conviction, “you deserve more than an absentee boyfriend.”

“You’re not absent,” she said firmly, “you’ve been by my side all these past few months, trying to keep things running. Trying to make the galaxy a better place.”

He couldn’t keep the sheepish smile from forming, although he did his best to smother it quickly before anyone else saw. “Still, it’s kind of a lousy experience for your first date ever.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s so bad,” she said, tilting her head with that soft look that had a tendency to make Theron forget what he was arguing about. “I certainly can’t complain about the company.”

There she went again, shorting out his higher brain functions and common sense with nothing more than a look and a few words. It would have been maddening if she didn’t have him completely pulled into her little spell. The harsh lighting of the Promenade was more muted out here on the patio, bathing his dining companion in hues of blue and pink that seemed to accentuate the sparkle in her eyes and the curve of her lips. He was leaning forward without really thinking about it, closing the distance between the two of them.

“Theron—”

“Yeah?” he murmured.

She leaned forward as well, her free hand sinking beneath the table as she fidgeted. “They’re here.”

Her words were like a bucket of cold water being thrown over him, and he nearly bolted upright, but stopped himself at the last moment lest he tip them off. He tried to dart his eyes in the direction of their table, but his position made it difficult. She continued to fidget and squirm under the table with one hand, grimacing as she apparently encountered some sort of trouble.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking off these damned heels.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m fairly certain they recognize us. And I refuse to break an ankle because of these death traps.”

Theron risked glancing over, and sure enough, the Nikto and a small pink Nimbanel—probably the buyer—were staring in their direction. As he looked over, the Nikto pointed very emphatically at him. “Damn it!”

The Nikto cursed in Huttese and the Nimbanel very clearly shouted something about the Alliance, just as two golden, spiked pieces of footwear flew at Theron’s face. He caught them and sputtered an incoherent noise that was meant to be a question, but Grey had already leapt to her feet. She had in fact leapt onto her chair, the square set to her shoulders and the ornate silver hilts of her unlit lightsabers already in her hands indicating that she had shifted into Jedi mode.

“Hold on to those for me!”

“But—”

His protest was cut off by a loud crash as the two criminals upended their table throwing it a few meters in the direction of their pursuers before taking off. Without a single thought otherwise, Grey took off after them in a single bound. Her unnatural and graceful leap was fueled by the Force, the flowing skirt of her dress billowing dramatically with the movement as she soared above the overturned table and landed on the one beyond it to the great surprise of an Arconan couple. This was also the moment that Theron belatedly realized he really should have taken a few extra minutes to find a pair of shorts or something else to help cover her propriety, as he and the rest of the patrons of the restaurant caught sight of everything underneath her dress, lacy black garters, undergarments, and all.

“Kriff!” Already several moments behind on the action, he surged to his feet, high heels still in hand. In the heat of the moment, and a little too distracted by the sight of girlfriend accidentally baring more than intended, he forgot about the blaster stowed in the inner pocket of his jacket. “Grey, maybe you shouldn’t—“

He didn’t know why he was shouting, she was clearly not listening to him. She hopped from table to table as if she were an ash rabbit, using the extra height to keep an eye on their quarry. Theron followed as best he could in her wake, occasionally shouting an apology to his fellow patrons as he passed by, and glaring at others who looked as if they were staring up his girlfriend’s skirt. It did not make for a very effective method of giving chase.

He was about halfway across the patio, when he misjudged one of his landings. His foot landed with a wet squish on something, slipping precariously. His arms pinwheeled wildly as he fought to keep his balance.

“Are you serious?” Someone exclaimed. “Right in my salad?”

Theron looked down into the blue face of an especially irritated Wroonian whose plate of artisanal Khoonda salad he’d landed in. The delicate plate the dish had been residing on cracked in half under his weight. A thick violet dressing had splattered across the fine linens covering the table, the tritacale and kibla greens kicked in every direction.

“Sorry,” he said absently as he picked up his foot, trying to fling off the oily dressing that was dripping off his boot and the ruined appetizer scattered across the table and surrounding patio.

“Hey! I was going to eat that!”

“Really? Even after my foot was in it?”

“Maybe,” Salad Guy muttered petulantly. “It cost a lot of credits.”

“You know you can get the same thing at Biscuit Baron for like a tenth of the price.”

“You expect me to eat at Biscuit Baron?” Salad Guy shrieked, yellow irises typical of the Wroonian species going wide in foodie umbrage.

“Suck it up, wuppa, I’ve got bad guys to catch.” 

He decided to ignore the indignant patron and focused on trying to find his quarry amongst the chaos of the restaurant. He spied them a few more tables over where Grey had caught the larger of the two fugitives. Theron couldn’t suppress the surge of pride when he saw that she had the Nikto pinned face down in some poor patron’s soup bowl, her bare foot pressing into his leathery neck. That was his girl.

A flash of pink beyond her grabbed his attention, and he could see the Nimbanel bringing a blaster pistol to bear. Without even thinking about what he was doing, Theron hurled one of the objects in his hand at the threat. The golden spikes of the high heels beamed the alien between his two bulbous eyes and he let out a cry of distress. A deep thrum echoed across the patio as Grey activated her lightsaber and pointed it directly at the Nimbanel’s face, who raised his hands in defeat.

She tilted her head back in Theron’s direction with the hints of a smile. “Thank you.”

He flashed her a smirk. “Anytime.”

“I have to admit, those work far better as a projectile weapon than footwear.”

“Did… did you just throw a shoe?” The Wroonian sputtered.

“Shut up, Salad Guy! No one asked you!”

“I believe you have something that doesn’t belong to you,” Grey said firmly.

He let out something in Huttese that sounded like an angry denial, and she put a little more pressure on the Nikto’s neck. After a moment of sputtering in the bowl of soup, he reluctantly pulled a data cylinder from his pocket. She grabbed it with her free hand and tossed it across the distance to Theron, who caught it easily. Without preamble he plugged it into his datapad and quickly decrypted its contents.

“Is that it?” she asked.

His custom code made short work of the decryption, and he quickly glanced through the contents of the data spike. He had to press his lips together to keep from laughing as all of the tension drained out of him from the start of this whole ordeal. It was the coordinates to their outpost on Lysatra—apparently someone had mistaken their activities there as the main base. They would still have to evacuate the outpost just as a precaution to prevent any fallout on the local populace. But Odessen was still safe. Thank the stars.

“We’re good,” he called as he pocketed the datapad and the spike.

“Excellent news.” Grey activated her other lightsaber and pointing it at the Nikto, raising her foot from his neck him before he drowned in the bowl of soup. “Do not try and leave, gentlemen. My agents have a few more questions for you.”

Veeroa was already on her way, and Theron was happy to turn the interrogation duties over to her and the rest of the Nar Shaddaa resistance cell. It was just clean up work at this point, and it had been a long day as it was. 

“Does your friend realize that we can all see those garters and up her—”

“Keep your eyes on your food!” Theron snapped.

“Your foot’s still in it!”

“I still have one high heel left,” he warned, “do you want to test me, Salad Guy?”

“My name is Phred!”

“I don’t care!” 

Theron brandished the weaponized footwear menacingly at the poor beleaguered patron, who wisely decided to drop his gaze lest he further offend the lunatic ruining his dinner. Over at the end of the patio, the victim of the first shoe rubbed his forehead and groaned miserably.

“What I don’t get,” Theron mused aloud, “is how these two recognized us so quickly.”

“Chut chut uba na joka?” The Nikto shook his head. The rough translation of that was, “You’re kidding, right?”

Both Theron and Grey frowned, and the Nikto waved a hand angrily in Theron’s direction, spitting out the word “baopah”.

Baopah. Huttese for jacket.

Grey translated the word at the same time it clicked in Theron’s brain, and let out a triumphant, “Hah! Told you!”

“Really,” the Nikto muttered, “you couldn’t change into something else?”

“It’s not that distinctive of a jacket!”

“It’s red!” The Nimbanel chimed in, still massaging his forehead. “It’s like you’re waving a giant flag saying ‘look at me’!”

“Plenty of people wear the color red!” Theron protested.

“The triangles on it look like an arrow pointing at your head and that ridiculous haircut,” Salad Phred said, still looking pointedly at the table lest he get maimed by a shoe. “It’s like you want everyone to notice you.”

“I thought it looked more like a hazard symbol,” the Nikto added oh-so-helpfully in Huttese.

The spy wrinkled his nose and glared at the Wroonian, then the bad guys, and then the Jedi smiling just a little too serenely at him.

“Quick poll!” He snapped to the restaurant at large. “Anyone who thinks my jacket is extremely eye catching and distracting raise your hand!”

About half of the hands of the patrons watching the proceedings raised their hands, including Salad Phred. Both of the captured criminals did the same, and Grey quickly moved her foot back to the Nikto’s neck so she could raise her hand as well, lightsaber still lit.

“Really?” He said to her, trying to keep the hurt from his tone. “You’re agreeing with the bad guys?”

She simply shrugged. “You asked for honesty.”

Theron snorted out an angry breath, but before he could defend his beloved jacket any further, the Kroctari maitre’d burst out onto the patio, looking at the chaos wreaked upon his five star restaurant aghast.

“Y-you monsters…” The maitre’d wheezed. “Look w-what you’ve done to my restaurant!”

“Um, Commander,” Theron said, “perhaps we should take our citizens’ arrest and… go.”

Theron quickly hopped off the table and hauled the Nimbanel to his feet. The injured alien shrunk away from the high heel that Theron still held in his hand, apparently not ready to feel the wrath of the other half of the pair. Grey deactivated and stowed her lightsabers and leapt down from the table. She pulled the Nikto along with her as they both beat a hasty retreat.

“Jonas Balkar,” the maitre’d shouted at their retreating backs, “you’re forever banned from this restaurant!”

“Uh oh,” Grey muttered.

“Eh, he’ll be okay,” Theron hedged. “He’s got a dozen hook-up joints like this.”

“And I’ll make sure your name is blacklisted on every high-class eatery on this planet! You’re ruined here!”

“Oops,” he muttered, and then shrugged. “Ah, well. Guess he’ll have to kick his seduction game up a notch.”

“You have very peculiar friends,” she said simply.

The corner of his mouth crooked up in a half-grin. “I like to keep things interesting.”

“Speaking of interesting,” Grey said over the shouts of the maitre’d, “how does tonight compare to your other first dates?”

As they continued to herd their prisoners across the Promenade, Theron tried to give that some serious thought. The date portion of the evening was really a mission cover for them to try and recover stolen intel and had quickly gone awry and turned into a high-adrenaline chase. They’d wreaked havoc on one of the fanciest restaurants on the planet, Theron had weaponized a piece of footwear, his date had taken out a dangerous criminal with her bare feet, and they’d gotten themselves banned from ever returning. Or well, they’d gotten Jonas banned.

Theron couldn’t help but grin, and answered in complete honesty. “Best first date I’ve ever had.”

Part Four: Souvenirs 

[thegarbagechute]

The Twi'lek tried to carefully put all the pieces of fruit he had just bartered off a merchant in his old, raggedy bag that turned out to be too small this time around for his purchases. The fabric stretched but not by enough to keep some of the holes in it from opening up even further.

He gave up on his attempt to put the last piece in his bag and took it in hand instead while he continued wandering down the dwindling road. On either side of it, merchants and brokers of all kind were starting to take down their stands and remove their wares from the public's eye as the day and the market drew to a close.

A couple of Jawas and their translation droid seemed to be in a heated argument with a Duros fellow who had something clenched tight in his fist and was shaking it furiously at the Jawas, no doubt expressing his opinion on his recent purchase. Even though they were a long ways away from Tatooine, there was no shortage of brokering Jawas on this backwater desert planet either and here too, not all of their goods were worth something despite them claiming otherwise.

Azil'mort paid it no further mind and let his eyes lazily roll to the other side of the road as he walked on, his hands fiddling a little bit with the piece of fruit which closely resembled a dragonfruit.

His eyes fell on a large cage and two gentlemen nearby of unidentifiable species as they had their back turned towards him, grunting and wiping sweat off their brows while they loaded one of the cargo speeders they had with them with smaller cages; some empty and some containing various critters they undoubtedly had intended to sell as pets to the public.

The large cage, too, was still occupied. However, Azil'mort assumed for a brief moment that the beast locked in it was no longer alive as it did not move at all when he walked past until he heard a soft chirp.

He slowed in his step and the creature stirred, weakly lifting up its head. It turned to face him and it edged a little closer to the bars that kept it imprisoned. Intrigued, Azil stopped and observed the creature from where he stood, a mere four steps away from it.

The creature seemed so pale and sickly, that he never would have guessed it to be a Varactyl had it not moved its head between the bars and out of the shadows, its beak and feathery mane now visible, though the latter was lacking all the vibrant colours that was so distinctive of the species and not as voluminous. Azil instantly attributed its condition to its captors, who had taken up arguing over how the platform should be loaded.

He was about to turn away and walk on, but, as if it had sensed it, the Varactyl chirped louder this time to draw his attention and it succeeded. Azil raised a brow and watched it jerk its head towards him, its mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Only when he noticed the creature's nostrils flare, did Azil'mort remember the fruit in his hands.

"Right, of course," he murmured under his breath. He cast a quick look at the salesmen nearby, who had yet to notice his presence, before he stepped towards the cage.

The Varactyl perked up a bit, as though it was surprised that his attention-luring tactics had worked. It eagerly shifted forwards when Azil knelt down. He tore the fruit in two and offered the first half his right hand. The Varactyl was hesitant to take it at first, but when Azil moved his hand just a tiny bit closer, the creature seemed assured it was okay to take it without getting beat. Carefully, it took the first chunk of fruit out of his hands with its beak, but then wasted no further time and gobbled it right down. Expecting as such, Azil already had the other portion of it ready when he heard a loud, unhealthy cough.

"What do you think you're doing?" a condescending voice called to him from just a few steps away. Azil did not bother looking up at all and merely kept his eyes trained on the Varactyl while it also ate the second piece.

"A dead cargo is a worthless cargo, wouldn't you agree?" the Twi'lek answered.

At the lack of any further response to that, Azil did look up and saw that he was dealing with two Nikto gentlemen. They looked scruff but were by no means as intimidating as they clearly made themselves out to be, no matter how fiercely they crossed their arms over their chest. Eventually one of them thought of a comeback.

"You think we're not taking care of our goods?" the one on the left asked, trying hard to sound like he had taken offence to that.

"Judging by the condition of this one here-" Azil nodded at the Varactyl in front of him that was now curiously sniffing at Azil'mort, "I would say that you are not. The pale skin and missing feather ridges on its back and head as well indicates lack of vitamins and minerals--"

"She came to us like that," the Nikto on the right said, clearly getting impatient with the Twi'lek already, who had started to gently stroke the Varactyl's beak with one hand.

"Oh, of course she has," Azil nodded understandingly, "as did they, I assume?" He pointed at the smaller cages stacked by the road. He could make out lumps and little legs and fur, but whatever was inside them, Azil could not recall having seen it move even slightly just once.

Only one of the Niktos could be bothered to actually turn and look at what he was pointing at, while the clearly more dominant and impatient one on the left had run out of patience.

"Look, are you going to buy her off of us or not? Otherwise just beat it, old man."

Azil rolled his eyes at that cheap insult and turned his head to the Varactyl in front of him, who was eyeing him intently. Whether she was trying her hardest to get him to give more fruit or not, he could not help but feel sorry for her and a small bond between them... even though he knew jack about creatures, unless parts of them contributed to medical breakthroughs and the Varactyl was not one of those.

"Well, it is certainly going to take a lot of time to nurse her back to her former self... Probably a lot of training to get her strength back before she can be ridden again by anyone... So I am thinking you might as well give her to me, because honestly, in this state she's not worth much."

The Niktos looked at each other in disbelief. Having gotten confirmation from one another that what they heard was exactly what the Twi'lek had said, they started laughing.

"We ain't just gonna give away our most valuable piece, are we now, old man?" the impatient one asked, probably rhetorically, but it was tough to say.

"That insult is wearing out, so you might want to consider adjusting your tone before I stuff you in one of your cages," Azil'mort calmly replied.

Whether it was getting told by a beggarly Twi'lek that they needed to adjust their tone or the threat that they would be shoved into a cage that did the trick, the Niktos adjusted their stance nevertheless and the one on the right slowly reached for his blaster at his hip.

Azil'mort laughed and shook his head.

"You know what, I don't have time for this. I need to get going if I want to be back home by nightfall, really," he chuckled. He stood up and the Varactyl chirped softly in response. The Niktos seemed to relax when he took a step back from the cage and eagerly waited for him to turn around and scram. However, Azil brought his hands up to his chest and in a swift move pulled them apart. The metal bars of the cage screeched under unseen force as they bent and snapped violently, leaving a large hole.

The Niktos jumped back and stared wide-eyed at the Twi'lek as he coaxed the Varactyl out of the remnants of its enclosure.

"I'm sorry I scared you, darling, but there was no reasoning with these people. Here, have another piece of fruit."

She carefully wormed her way through the makeshift door in her cage, keeping her head low after she had stepped out and circled the Twi'lek, taking the fruit from his hand. He patted her on the back with a smile before turning his attention back to the Nikto duo who had yet to recover from the unexpected turn of events and merely gawked at him from several feet away.

"You can sell that to the Jawas as scrap metal," he jerked his head towards the cage, "which, I reckon, will get you half of what any person would have paid for her, so you gentlemen enjoy that and... see you next week?"

One of them regained his posture fast enough to clear his throat and nod weakly. "Yeah, sure, why... why not... Yeah..."

Azil grinned.

"Good! Let's go, darling, I've had enough of this place for now."

He turned on his heel and set off, his new companion sticking by his side as he continued following the road out of town and into the desert.