#frankly after Masked Empire and DAI I just think

[bunabi]

Hi Bunabi, pls ignore if this is too ranty

Dragon age has had me in a chokehold for 10+ yrs at this point, but the representation and racial dynamics in this series is bothering me. The Dalish and elves in general are just so painfully whyte. I guess it is more comfortable for white ppl to relate to oppressed whites rather than actual POC… My lavellan is dark-skinned, but she looks out of place among elves like Sera, Solas and Abelas. Even most Dalish npc are white. I am getting tired of the worship of European aesthetics in media, not only in terms of beauty standards, but also in fashion, architecture and art. Do you feel like Dragon Age is eurocentric?

I agree about the diversity of NPCs but I don't think the fashion & environments are strictly European worship, we've just been stuck in Fantasy France & England for three straight games.

And as far as whiteness helping players relate to them: no. 😭

Considering how fans talk about the Dalish in the wake of DAI, how they're treated ingame, how many Lavellans ditch their clan and culture in fanon, and everything that's been added to their lore post-DA2, it aint helping lol.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Failing to Thrive then Thriving in failure

I just had the funniest notion. Time travel comedy, but the twist is that Palpatine is the one to go back in time. 

So we start just after Kenobi, Palpatine has been emperor for about a decade, he succeeded. The Sith plan is complete, he has everything he had dreamed of and worked toward for a decade…and he is so bored. He never realized that 90% of his joy actually came from pretending to be a benevolent Chancellor and the intrigue of fooling people.  Now he has shown his true colors and could not go back to pretending (it simply would not work). Being the Sith in charge is not as fun as he thought it would be. Even getting to openly torture people has lost its appeal after 10 years.

It’s ok for Vader. For one Vader was never interested in those intrigues in the first place. For two 45% of Vader brain is taken up by trying to resurrect Padme Amidala, 50% is taken up by Obi Wan Kenobi (Palpatine is not sure if Vader wants to kill Kenobi, Kriff Kenobi, make Kenobi tuck Vader in every night and tell him is it going to be alright, Force Kenobi to help Vader resurrected Padme, or make sure Kenobi is eating, taking care of himself, and has a good enough blanket), leaving only 5% for everything else.  

Frankly if this is what Kenobi had to deal with before the war, Palpatine is somewhat impressed he got anything done.

Vader isn’t bored. Palpatine’s assorted lesser minions are not bored, they are living the dream of being as bigoted as their little fascist hearts desire. But Palpatine just could not find joy any longer. 

I do want it clear. Palpatine is not repentant. He does not regret the deaths that he caused, the genocide, the enslavement, any of it. He’s just bored. 

One day Palpatine finds a book, or maybe an artifact, or possibly a scrap of paper with an archaic formula. The title roughly translates to ‘Sith Master Time Travel’ (Listen The Son was also very bored, and being outside of Space Time meant He wanted to see what would happen). Palpatine is able to time travel, but only as far back as when he became a Sith Master. It was also a one time deal, he would not be able to use the method again AND it would destroy his origin timeline (not that that actually factored into Palpatine’s decision at all).  Not to mention he would essentially be possessing and killing his previous, alternate timeline self. 

Of course Palpatine time travels. He goes all the way back to the moment he became the Sith Master (it turns out the Sith titles are not just titles), looking at the still warm corpse of Hugo Damask, just as the Naboo crisis is wrapping up. 

Now Palpatine had already decided to do some things differently.  At first he was still working outward the Grand Sith Plan, if trying to keep his ‘Kindly Politician’ mask a bit longer, however he has decided that instead of Vader (or possibly in addition to Vader, if things get boring again) he will get Obi Wan Kenobi as his apprentice, figuring that there must have been a reason that every Sith Apprentice for 20 years ends up obsessed with the man (also because he thinks it would be funny to corrupt the Jedi’s ‘Guiding Light’). Dooku and all the pieces needed to start the Clone wars are already mostly in place. It is just a matter of maintaining until the clones are the right age.  So he does what he needs to to maintain the Empire building plans and decides to focus on corrupting Obi Wan. 

He fails, utterly. He fails so fully that Obi Wan did not even notice his attempts at corruption. Like he knew it would take time to corrupt a Jedi, he had done before after all, but he still expected at least a little change within the first year. There was nothing. 

And it was not a case of Obi Wan not trusting Palpatine. This is still a decade before the war. Obi Wan is a grieving, freshly knighted,  trying to keep up with a nine year old with somewhat unique trauma. Palpatine knows how to get Obi Wan to feel comfortable and trust him (Palpatine probably knows too well how to get Obi wan to feel comfortable and trust him, between Dooku and Vader). Obi Wan is just, for a given value, incorruptible. 

Now Palpatine’s obsession switch has been flipped. He went into it thinking that corrupting Obi Wan would be a fun side project, a way to pass the time.  He was wrong.  He knows from the previous timeline that torture would not be effective (Listen if the torture mask specifically built to corrupt lightsiders did not make a dent after a month it is pretty well proven that torture will not cause Kenobi to fall, Palpatine knows this) nor would killing Kenobi’s loved work (again, if it didn’t last time we have some pretty concrete proof). 

So now we have Palpatine trying every method he can think of to seduce Kenobi the darkside, always just shy of admitting to being a Sith or being creepy. To the point that he has actually forgotten the Empire building he was doing. He kind of even forgets to be Sidious.  He almost ghosts Dooku, before he remembers that Dooku is Kenobi’s grandfather(that is not the correct term, Dooku tries to correct Palpatine an even dozen times before giving up) and gets Dooku involved in the corruption that is STILL. GOING. NOWHERE.

Dooku basically becomes Grandpa Dooku to both Obi Wan and Anakin, and falls back into the Light while trying unsuccessfully to corrupt Obi Wan to the Dark. Due to darkside vow complications (also because I think it would be really funny) Dooku is not able to say, imply, or otherwise do anything to make the Jedi suspicious that Palaptine is a Sith. Also, to a certain extent he thinks that as long as Palpatine is focused on corrupting his incorruptible grandson, the other Sith is not thinking about galactic domination (To be fair he is correct).  

Palpatine spends most of his time trying to corrupt Obi Wan, while keeping up the act used to maintain Obi Wan’s trust. The thing is Palpatine is fully aware that Anakin in the original timeline was about observant as a particularly dense brick wall and would not have realized that the persona of ‘My friend Palaptine’ did not match the reality of ‘My pal Friendpatine’. Obi Wan would realize if his act was not consistent. 

So Palpatine decided to keep the act up 24/7.  And everyone knows that your actions become your habits become your personality. 

Somewhere in year 8 Palpatine forgets how to Sith. 

Technically he is still a darksider but not the extra layer of fucked up that comes from being an actual Sith. And he still has not even made a dent in Obi Wan’s light. He has also, almost single handedly, derailed the war that had been brewing and fixed about 40% of the corruption in the Senate.  All without killing a single senator.

Palpatine spends most of his time very confused. 

Palpatine lets his term as Chancellor end, having gone down in history as one of the most beloved Chancellors in history.  The Clones are found and mostly are inducted as an arm of the Jedi Order. Jango Fett is given a metric ton of therapy, which helps him see that the Jedi were not actually at fault for Galidraan (Jango had, in fact, been the person to escalate things to violence) before he is allowed to take Boba back into the galaxy. By that point the Clones want little to do with him. 

For the rest of his life Palpatine tries, unsuccessfully, to corrupt Obi Wan (who never noticed). At this point he is genuinely friends with a number of Jedi (He and Mace Windu have a surprising amount in common, including a love of the theater and a mild exasperation for Anakin Skywalker's antics). He is an honored guest at both the CodyWan and the Anidala Weddings (including a Jedi based wedding ceremony).

Honestly he is having the most fun of his life. 

He is also never caught as a darksider. He never figures out how that is possible either.

[matsmurdock]

Penny for your truth

Hi again, here's a new one shot that I wrote during my (way too long for it to be allowed) break at work! This time, you get to read it before AO3, how exciting!

Summary: you go up to your rooftop to smoke a cigarette and find Daredevil having an existential crisis there.

A/N: Title inspired by the song Last Man on Earth - Wolf Alice. Fun fact, this song reminds me so much of Matt that sometimes it makes me cry! On to the story. Hope you'll like it, I loved writing it. Also, you can't take the black suit away from me.

words: ~1150

It was a cold one today, and frankly you’d rather be inside than outside but hey, you do what you gotta do.

The night was almost over and you were about ready to fall asleep in your couch when you thought about having you last cigarette of the day. You got into your snug UGG boots that you finally admitted to yourself were comfortable and actually fashionable, and put your coat on before leaving your apartment to go up to the roof.

Turns out, someone apparently had the same idea because someone was already there. After debating with yourself, you decided to try and talk to them. Maybe that would take your mind off the freezing cold, which felt even worse on the roof.

"Late night too, huh?" you tried. You saw the person tense up, making as if they were going to leave because of your arrival. "No please don’t go on my account, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you."

Silence again. You tried slowly getting closer, as if approaching a small animal. That seemed to work since the person was still there. Now that you were close enough to see this person’s face, you realized that you, in fact, couldn’t really see it because it was half hidden by a black mask. You connected the dots and realized that you were sharing your clandestine smoking rooftop with Daredevil, and you were wearing fleece pajamas with UGG boots and your couch’s throw as a scarf against the cold. There was no going back now.

Lighting up your cigarette, you picked up the conversation again. "If I’d known that I’d be meeting the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen tonight I’d have worn nicer pj’s", you joked. You saw his mouth rise ever so slightly. "Hey at least we’re both wearing pajamas, that’s good for my ego", you added, referring to his black costume. It was probably a mean joke, and you didn’t know if it was even safe to joke about it but you were too tired to care at this point.

"Not so good for mine though", you heard his gruff voice reply. Huh. "My outfit doesn’t look like pajamas", he added and then, after a pause, "…does it?"

"Oh no! I was kidding, sorry, it was a stupid joke!" you reassured him (and yourself because you spooked yourself for a bit).

You sat down next to him and only then realized that he actually wasn’t smoking. "Do you mind the cigarette?"

He shook his head, then said no out loud after a beat. You thanked him, no idea why. You continued smoking in silence, not really knowing what to add to the one-sided conversation that literally no one but yourself had decided on having.

"So what trouble brings you here, then?" you finally asked, your cigarette half-smoked by now.

He didn’t reply for a moment and then, "I don’t really know. It was the only place that’s quiet enough". Ok, ouch, not taking it too personal. "I’ve been… made aware that an enemy of mine has been working to build back his empire while everyone was away and I can’t help but think, no, regret no putting him in the ground when I had the chance to."

Not what you expected, almost sorry you asked. "Oh", was all you said.

"I’m sorry", he said, running his hand over his face, "you probably only asked out of politeness I don’t know why I said that I—"

You cut him off, "hey no! I asked and you replied. It’s fair. It just caught me off guard is all." You took one last drag of your cigarette then put it out and into the can that you upcycled as an ashtray that you kept hidden nearby.

"Can I ask why you didn’t?"

Another beat of silence, as if he was weighing his words before speaking them into the night of Hell’s Kitchen.

"It’s a place you can’t come back from. I know what I’m about, and it’s not that" he said quietly, but with enough finality that you knew he meant it.

"I think anyone would regret not doing it, out of anger and disappointment maybe. I probably would… But what you do with that is what matters." You felt like you were speaking out of your ass, but you did pride yourself in giving out good advice once in a while, and a tired mind could do wonders actually.

"You believed that it would be enough, what you did," you started again. "I think your anger is valid because it must have taken a lot out of you to stop yourself and then realize that it was for nothing. But you can't blame yourself." You didn't know how why exactly your Thursday had to end with you giving advice to Hell's Kitchen's most feared vigilante on murder, but now you were in it.

He nodded his head to show you that he was listening, even though he wasn't speaking anymore. You could see his mouth moving, as if he was stopping himself from answering. You let him take his time.

As if he'd heard your internal monologue, he said "I'm sorry to trouble you with this, I know it's heavy and I don't need to traumatize you."

"Nah you're fine." You rubbed your hands together, trying to warm them up, which sparked another question: "How are you not freezing your ass off with this tiny outfit, Daredevil?"

"The flames of Hell's Kitchen keep me warm."

"That's cheesy."

"Sorry."

The two of you stayed silent once again. You were getting cold, but somehow you didn't want to leave him alone; his mind seemed like a dangerous place. This time, he broke the silence first. "What brings you here, then?"

You giggled, taken aback "oh I'm just not allowed to smoke in my apartment. Neighbors can smoke crack but I can't smoke my cigarettes, apparently. No offense to them."

"You'd freeze on a New York rooftop at 11pm just for a cigarette?" he asked, incredulous.

"I know!" you exclaimed, "which is why I think my landlord should let me smoke inside since smoking my 11pm cigarette makes me feel like a crackhead who needs their fix," you tried to say this seriously but broke up in laughter, and he laughed with you.

"You should head back inside, you're getting too cold," he said quietly like he didn't want to admit it. You nodded without a word. "I enjoyed this, though. Thank you for listening to me."

"It was no problem," you reassured him. "If you ever feel like taking a break, I usually get up there at the same time every day so..."

"I'll remember it."

You got up from where you'd been sitting, dusted off your pants, and bid him goodbye and goodnight. It was once you were inside that what had just happened just hit you. You'd just discussed murder with Daredevil. On a thursday night. Because you wanted to smoke.

You were never quitting smoking.

[shades-of-stony]

Royalty Stony AUs

A King for Christmas by iam93percentstardust

Summary: In 1867, Tony Stark flees New York after refusing to marry the alpha his parents chose for him. His money runs out in the small kingdom of Dacia, ruled over by King Steven of the Rogers line. Somehow, and he’s not entirely sure how, he ends up accepting the position of nanny to the king’s four children: Harley, Peter, Sarah, and Morgan.

Tony bonds with the children easily but their father is harder to get to know. Steve is still grieving his wife’s death four years earlier. His continued mourning has turned the once bright halls into dark and somber shadows of their former glory. Tony isn’t entirely certain what he can do but he knows that he has to do something or else the whole country, so attuned to their leader, will sink into despair. He begins by reconciling the king with his young children.

Meanwhile, the children have decided that it’s high time their father fall in love again—and Tony is the obvious choice. They concoct elaborate plans to force the two together, hardly realizing that Steve and Tony are falling in love, not through their shenanigans but through the quiet moments they share bonding over the love they have for the children.

A Higher Form of War by sabremc

Summary: Tony is a King with a surprising number of people out to kill him. Steve and the rest of the Avengers are fighting for Pierce's rebellion and end up with Tony as their prisoner. Oops.

Basically one of those bodice-ripping romance novels I don't read (ahem) but with far more gay.

rearrange my heart (to fit your smile) by starklystar

Summary: "You dare," Howard's chair makes an ugly noise as it scrapes against the stone floors, the chatter of the room shifting into hushed whispers and stolen glances. "I am your father and your King!"

"My King is my husband," Tony tips his chin up, defiant. "And I refuse to hear you suggest that my husband has been anything other than good to me."

Next to him, he feels Steve's shoulders stiffen in surprise.

Howard's fist slams loud on the table. "Your husband does not even love you!"

Tony jerks back, burned. He knows that. Knows that Steve did not marry him for love – does not need any reminder of the cold truth, of what he desperately yearns for and can't even hope to have – but the harshness of Howard's words was scalding, and Tony can't afford for this to go any further.

----------

Or, King Steven marries Prince Tony, Tony is pretty sure he shouldn't panic when he falls in love with his own husband, and Steve tries his very best not to cause diplomatic crises.

Keyword: try

Fealty by  Lasenby_Heathcote and Robin_tCJ

Summary: Steve Rogers is Lord of America, and was gifted his corner of the kingdom of Starkland after amazing acts of heroism in the war against Hydra. A long, brutal winter forces Steve to go to King Howard for aid, and Howard agrees – under the condition that Steve bond with his Omega son, Tony. Steve agrees, of course, for the good of his people. Prince Tony is a trained Omega Consort – an Omega of status sent to a prestigious academy to become the perfect Consort Mate to high-status Alphas throughout the kingdom. At this academy they learn diplomacy, negotiation, proper manners, and, of course, the various ways to pleasure their Alphas.

I will wait by Shellhead616

Summary: Prince Stark was to marry a Prince he never met, for money he never wanted, to reign over a realm his father didn’t care for. But the Prince did care for his people. So he ran away, accidentally joined a group of misfits calling themselves the “Avengers”, with their fierce leader “The Captain". Although, when he discovers the secret the Captain has been keeping, everything changes.

one day by mvrcredi

Summary: One day.

One day Prince Steven would be king. One day he would have all the qualities to be an even better king than his father.

And maybe, one day, Tony would be his husband.

(But maybe, before that one day, Steven should reveal his secret to the man.)

My Loyalty to You by Hazein, Shi_Toyu

Summary: The Israelite nation has gone to war, Howard is acting erratic, and it’s everything Tony can do to argue with the war council to find the most advantageous strategies for their men. Then Thanos strides out of the enemy ranks and issues a challenge unlike any Tony has ever heard. If an Israelite can defeat him in one-on-one combat, their entire army will surrender. Too bad Thanos is twice the size of any man they have. Enter Steve Rogers, local sheppard and the king’s newest harp player, who claims he can fell this giant with nothing but a sling and a stone.

Whether he can manage it or not, Tony is just trying to figure out how you get to looking like that by tending sheep...

Arranged by NotEvenCloseToStraight

Summary: Royalty AU-- Howard arranges a match between Tony and Steve, but when Tony tries to run away with Tiberius instead, Steve goes after his betrothed and brings him home. Things are difficult between the couple at first, but an impulsive kiss leads to softer moments, and finally the arranged pair find happiness together.

Knight of Wands by  Sineala

Summary: Steve has reigned as king for ten years, and in a few days peace will finally come to his kingdom. Representatives of the Kree Empire are soon to arrive for the negotiations that will end the war between them once and for all. Steve is looking forward to settling down, with his hand-picked Avengers at his side -- led, of course, by the masked knight Iron Man -- and also his trusted advisors, the most beloved of whom is Tony, his court magician, the most powerful mage in all the land.

But when Steve's life is endangered, Tony makes the greatest sacrifice of all to protect his king, a sacrifice far greater than his life. And when Tony disappears under mysterious circumstances, Steve learns that even his closest friends keep secrets that he could never have suspected.

Chasing Daydreams by comecatchmeifyoucan

Summary: “Promise you’ll be there?” He mumbled into Steve’s chest.

“Of course.”

“Good.” Tony separated from Steve but his hand was still gently gripping the blond’s wrist. “Because the party only starts when I arrive, and I’m obviously not going if you won’t be there.”

Steve felt the brunet’s hand slip down to graze his, and he let it linger there for a second before it was suddenly pulled away from him. He could only hope that he had hidden his disappointment well.

Fortunately, Tony didn’t seem to notice Steve’s abrupt drop in mood.

✧ ─────── ♡ ─────── ✧

After years of pining for the brunet, Steve was finally going to get his chance to confess his feelings for Tony. If only he could find him in the crowd of masked-people first...

Luckily, when his hopeless crush is nowhere to be found, Steve meets a beautiful stranger to keep him company throughout the night.

heavy is the crown by theappleppielifestyle

Summary: “Why did you pick me? As a match. Howard forced you to marry, but you had - there were other options. Many of them.”

“Maybe I wanted to help you,” Tony says. “To help - anyone, for once. Your people needed it.”

Oh, Steve thinks dully. So it wasn’t about him at all. It’s - a comfort, in some ways. In others, it’s… less so.

“And-” Tony hesitates. "Everyone said you were kind. I thought… if I had to marry, I’d prefer to marry someone kind.”

(Or, Arranged Marriage AU.)

WIP:

The Crown- the stony au nobody asked for by Jo_StClaire

Summary: Tony is the sole Omega prince of Angsold, who falls in love with the Alpha Army Captain of a neighboring nation. When his father, King Howard, suddenly falls ill and passes, Tony's life is thrown out of wack when he becomes a reigning monarch at 25. Follow Tony through the struggles of being a newly-wedded Omega as well as a leader of a nation. He must learn to balance his love for his people with his love for his husband Steve. (Loosely Based off of the Netflix series The Crown)

No More, No Less by ABrighterDarkness

Summary: His father had been discussing it again, amongst his advisers. He was barely eighteen , what did he need of a wife at eighteen? Frankly, he was already tired of hearing about it. Tired of meeting the daughters of the various men that were deemed important enough. None of them had caught his attention in the least and he suspected that they never would. Not when his daydreams already consisted of intelligent brown eyes, rich brown curls and a wickedly charming grin.

Protea by Anonymous

Summary: After witnessing the injustice done onto his parents, Steve Rogers sneaks into the Ferrite Royal Palace to try and find answers. Fate decides to saddle him with solving shady scandals while unknowingly becoming involved with the nation’s omegan king, Anthony.

And deal with all the baggage and drama that comes along with it.

Or…

A Concubine!Steve AU

they're both princes in this one by vapaad

Summary: Steve Rogers is the first son of the United States The entire nation sees him as America’s golden boy. Handsome, smart, charming, and overall perfection– Steve is an icon to the youths of America. But Steve, well he has one little issue. He thinks Prince Anthony, yes the british prince, is a big jerk. Arrogant and an overall asshole.

So when an encounter between the two results in chaos, Steve and Anthony “call me Tony” are thrusted into a PR stint of being best friends. But soon enough, they both come to the realization that they want more, and there, bloomed a secret relationship between the first son of the united states, and the prince of England.

tell me i'm your national anthem by oopshidaisy for chasingconstellations

Summary: Red, White & Royal Blue AU. Tony Stark is the unwilling First Son of the United States, whose rivalry with beloved Prince Steve threatens UK/US relations. After an international incident involving a wedding cake, Steve and Tony are forced to fake a friendship for the public eye - a fake friendship that evolves into something real, and dangerous.

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 5

A/N: it's formal ball time :) where nothing will go wrong :) (also this morning i saw a tweet from scott smajor casually mentioning he looked at the empires smp tag on tumblr AND mentioning something about liking the "art and stories." so i've been dealing with the mortifying possibility of being known all morning, hope y'all are having a good day/night/whenever aksfdgkl)

Warnings: kissing, explosions, betrayal, violence, swordfights, mild disassociation 

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

-

The night of the House Blossom Ball had arrived. Jimmy had to admit, getting Lizzie’s help with an outfit was a good idea. He wore a black suit with intricate, swirling bronze details that shimmered when the light hit them. He had a dark green bowtie as a nod to his empire, and he had indeed ditched the cod head. Instead, he wore a bronze colored masquerade mask that looked like two cod fish curling around his eyes, their fins spreading out and covering his forehead. It felt weird to have his hair exposed, but Lizzie helped him make sure it was presentable. Speaking of Lizzie, she was wearing a dress with the typical navy blue color of the Ocean Empire, but it had an ombre shift into the magenta of Mezalea at the end of the skirt. Joel wore his typical Mezalean garb, but with a navy blue sash instead of a green one. They walked into the ballroom as quite the dazzling trio- and then Jimmy’s heart just about stopped at the sight of Scott.

He was chatting with Pixl and one of the new rulers, a man with colorful wings like a parrot’s. But Jimmy was too busy staring at Scott to really pay attention to Pix and the other ruler, because Scott was wearing a ballgown. The main body of it was long sleeved and form fitting, made of white lace with shimmers of gold worked in, and was backless to allow room for his wings. Then there was a light blue overskirt to go with it, making the dress look like a full ballgown. Gold jewelry adorned him as well- on his wrists, around his neck, and hanging from his ears.

“Close your mouth, Jimmy,” Joel murmured with a teasing lilt. Jimmy snapped his mouth shut, looking down at the ground and extremely relieved that his masquerade mask covered the blush on his cheeks.

“How about we go and mingle with the other guests, I think Jimmy needs a minute to compose himself,” Lizzie teased. Jimmy nodded, too flustered to even protest. The three of them walked over to Katherine, who was chatting with Gem, Pearl, and a gnome girl in a dress that reminded Jimmy of a mushroom, with its red poofy top and white floor length skirt. The girl jumped a bit at the sight of Jimmy and Lizzie, but quickly composed herself.

“Hello! I am Shrub of the Undergrove. You may call me Shelby if you like though,” she said, seeming a little skittish as she spoke. Lizzie smiled gently, giving a curtsy. Joel and Jimmy quickly followed her lead, bowing at Shelby.

“Ocean’s blessings. I am Queen Lizzie, of the Ocean Empire. This is my husband, King Joel of Mezalea. And this is my dear friend, the Codfather of the Cod Empire,” Lizzie said, gesturing to each of them in turn.

“You can call me Jimmy though, if you want,” he added with a smile. Shelby jumped a bit when he spoke, but nodded and gave a hasty curtsy. Joel looked at her with gentle concern.

“Is everything alright?” he asked. Shelby nodded, a bit too hastily.

“Yes! Just not uh. Not super used to this many people,” she said with a nervous laugh, eyeing Lizzie and Jimmy warily. Joel frowned a bit at the way she was looking at them, but didn’t say anything.

“Jimmy, you aren’t making an enemy of our new friend already, are you?” Fwhip’s voice asked from somewhere behind them. Jimmy whirled around to glare at Fwhip, and of course Sausage was at his side.

“I’m just saying hello, Fwhip. Surely that’s allowed,” Jimmy huffed.

“Sure, that’s how it always starts though- next thing you know he’s stealing your things,” Sausage chimed in. Shelby looked rather alarmed, and Jimmy let out a frustrated sigh.

“For the millionth time, you had said that I could-”

“Oh listen, the music’s starting! Let’s dance!” Katherine interrupted him, and the whole ballroom seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief as people found their dance partners. Jimmy fully intended to step to the side and watch as the others danced, but then he met the mischievous glint in Lizzie’s eyes.

“Joel, is it alright if I go dance with Scott? I simply must compliment his dress,” Lizzie said airily. Joel smiled, just as wickedly as the glint in his wife’s eyes.

“As long as you don’t mind if I dance with the Codfather for a bit,” Joel replied.

“Of course!” Lizzie chirped, before heading off towards Scott. Jimmy squinted at Joel suspiciously as he led him to the dance floor. It wasn’t the first time the two of them had danced together, Joel had insisted that Jimmy practice with him before his wedding day. But it had frankly been a while, and he didn’t like the look he and Lizzie had exchanged before she went to dance with Scott.

“What are you up to?” Jimmy asked as he rested his hand on the small of Joel’s back, and Joel rested his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. Their other hands were clasped together, and the two of them began gently swaying.

“Oh, nothing,” Joel replied, and that was all Jimmy could get out of him as they danced. They slowly made their way across the ballroom floor, and soon they were close to where Lizzie and Scott were dancing. And gosh were they a sight, all swirling skirts and elegance. Jimmy could tell Joel was just as distracted by Lizzie as Jimmy was by Scott. Then Lizzie noticed them staring, and she and Scott twirled closer.

“Jimmy! Let’s trade partners, I’d like to dance with my husband now!” Lizzie chimed, and before Jimmy could process what exactly that meant, he was spun into Scott’s arms. They were almost as close as they had been the day they fought- and there were those butterflies again. He didn’t know what to do with his hands- there was the issue of Scott’s wings and the fact that his dress exposed a lot of the skin on his back. But there wouldn’t be a point to worrying about that, Scott would surely push him away- but then Scott chuckled and took Jimmy’s hands in his, guiding them to where they should be.

“Here,” he said softly, placing one of Jimmy’s hands on his shoulder while his fingers laced with the other, then moved his free hand to rest on Jimmy’s back and pull him impossibly closer. Jimmy swallowed nervously, glancing over at Lizzie and Joel (who nodded encouragingly) before looking back to Scott.

“You look gorgeous,” Jimmy blurted as the two of them began to sway. Jimmy internally cursed himself for saying the first thing that popped into his head- but then Scott’s face flushed and it suddenly all felt worth it.

“Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself,” he teased. Jimmy laughed.

“Lizzie helped,” he admitted. Scott laughed as well, the sound all sunshine and glittering gold.

“Should’ve known,” he replied, seeming distracted for a moment. Jimmy wanted to ask what was wrong, but Scott plastered on a smile and gently spun the two of them. Jimmy couldn’t help but smile along, heart soaring.

They continued dancing until the song ended, and then Scott was just… gone. He had twirled Jimmy and when he had finally managed to stop spinning and catch his balance, laughing and about to make a teasing remark about Scott making him dizzy- he realized he had vanished into the crowd. It felt like Scott had taken a bit of Jimmy’s heart with him. Jimmy looked around for him, and met Katherine’s concerned gaze instead. She gave a comforting smile as she walked over to Jimmy.

“I saw Scott go upstairs, I think he just needed some fresh air after dancing. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some company,” she said with a wink, nudging Jimmy towards the stairs. He chuckled, thanking Katherine before heading up the stairs. She was right, there was no need to be worried! Jimmy just kinda wished Scott would have said something.

Jimmy’s breath was once again taken away when he saw Scott standing on the balcony. If Jimmy thought he was beautiful in the sunlight, he was even more stunning in the moonlight. The white of his wings practically glowed, and while the gold didn’t shimmer quite as bright as it did in the sun, it still sent Jimmy’s heart fluttering all the same. The only thing that ruined the image was how… distressed Scott looked. His hands were fiddling with the gold bracelets he wore, and his mouth was fixed in a frown. Maybe he needed some space, clearly something about the dance upset him- he probably hadn’t really wanted to dance with Jimmy, and just played along cause everyone was watching. Jimmy should definitely apologize before giving him some space.

“Scott? I promise I’ll leave you alone after this, but I just wanted to apologize,” Jimmy said, trying not to let his heartbreak show. Scott jumped in surprise, turning to look at Jimmy.

“Apologize? For what?” he asked, seeming genuinely confused.

“The dance. Joel and Lizzie schemed against my will, I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Jimmy explained, guilt welling up in his stomach. To his surprise, Scott gave a soft laugh.

“You don’t need to apologize for that. I… I liked dancing with you,” he confessed. Jimmy’s heart was sent fluttering once more, and he stepped closer to Scott with a grin.

“Oh! Good, I was just worried because you left and you looked upset when I came up here,” Jimmy said, deflating only a little bit when Scott only smiled and nodded in response before gazing out over the lands of the Overgrown. There was awkward silence for a moment or two, until Scott suddenly moved closer to Jimmy, almost as close as they had been when they were dancing. Butterflies sparked in Jimmy’s stomach at the little distance between them.

“I need to tell you something,” Scott blurted. He looked nervous, almost like he had been when Jimmy first had come up to the balcony.

“Of course, what is it?” Jimmy asked soothingly. Scott looked him in the eyes, mouth opening and closing uselessly- until he broke eye contact for a brief moment before locking eyes with him again, something desperate in his gaze. Then suddenly Scott’s hands were gently cradling his face and there were lips on his. Scott’s lips. Scott was kissing him. Jimmy gasped in surprise against his mouth before quickly sinking into the kiss and running his hands through Scott’s stupid perfect hair. Scott’s hands drifted down from his face to his waist, pulling him in closer as his wings wrapped around them both, shielding them from the outside world so it was only Scott and Jimmy. Then Scott tilted his head and the kiss went from pleasantly warm to blazing, sending sparks racing up Jimmy’s spine. It left him dizzyingly breathless, like Scott had spun him a thousand times on the dance floor, and Jimmy never wanted it to end-

And then a thundering BOOM rattled the castle, breaking them apart. Scott clung to Jimmy, arms tightening around his waist as his breath hitched in fear, and Jimmy held him back just as tightly. There was something unreadable in Scott’s expression alongside the fear, but Jimmy didn’t have time to decipher it before another BOOM shook the castle. Jimmy was about to ask what was going on, but the sound of someone landing on the roof behind him and the voice that went with it stopped him cold.

“Well what do we have here?” Fwhip crooned, and Scott practically snarled as he shifted his hold on Jimmy so that one arm was curled protectively around his waist, his wing shielding him as well, as he drew a sword from somewhere within his skirts and pointed it at Fwhip. Dimly, Jimmy remembered that there weren’t supposed to be weapons at the ball, Katherine had made a rule.

“Leave before I make you,” Scott growled, the sound of his voice sending liquid fire through Jimmy’s veins. Fwhip gave an incredulous scoff, shaking his head.

“Playing the part a little too well, are we?” he sneered, and just like that the fire in his veins went cold, and he realized what that strange look on Scott’s face had been before. Guilt. Scott’s grip on him suddenly felt suffocating, more like he was holding Jimmy hostage rather than protecting him.

“Let go of me,” Jimmy demanded, voice hollow. Scott’s grip only tightened on him, and Jimmy’s heart rate spiked in fear.

“Don’t listen to Fwhip, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Scott said shakily. Fwhip let out a cruel laugh.

“Oh come on Scott, you’re the one who helped make this possible,” he jeered, and the castle shook with another explosion. Jimmy’s stomach dropped. Scott was in league with Fwhip. Scott had plotted against him, and lulled Jimmy into a false sense of security with dazzling smiles and soft lips.

“Jimmy-” Scott started, but was cut off by the sound of people bounding up the stairs and shouting. Jimmy’s head whipped over to see Katherine, Lizzie, and Joel coming up to the balcony.

“Fwhip! How could you do this!” Katherine demanded, tears streaming down her face. Fwhip merely laughed.

“I told you the ball would be a blast, Katherine,” he sneered. Anger boiled in Jimmy’s stomach at Fwhip’s tone towards Katherine, and he squirmed against Scott’s hold.

“Jimmy,” Scott warned, voice low. Joel mistook the tone of Scott’s voice, and leveled his sword at him- somehow Jimmy missed that he was holding it, he must have grabbed it from the chests at the front of the castle.

“Release the Codfather. Now. I won’t let you destroy this castle and take an ally hostage,” Joel growled.

“Joel, stay out of this. You don’t understand what’s happening,” Scott said, voice calm and even. Joel let out a harsh laugh, tightening his grip on his sword.

“I understand plenty,” he snarled, leaping at Scott. Scott was forced to toss Jimmy to the side to block the incoming strike, and Jimmy watched them fight with some sort of dazed confusion as he fell to the ground. Everything felt cold and hollow, and Jimmy didn’t really feel connected to his body as Lizzie scrambled to his side, helping him up and murmuring words of comfort.

“C’mon Jimmy, we’ve gotta get out of here,” she said, voice soft but no less urgent as she gently squeezed Jimmy’s hand. He met Scott’s eyes briefly as he was holding off Joel, and that was decision enough for Jimmy. He squeezed Lizzie’s hand back, and ran with her.

-

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[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

I know you haven't really done many prompts for Empire SMP, but having seen Jimmy's perspective today, I really want to see him just talk about everything that's against him and I think it would be really fun to see him just breakdown with Pixl.

Lore-wise, Jimmy really has gone through the ringer.

he really has T_T someone pls save him

...

Pixlriffs is working on setting up some more candles around the vigil when he hears a noise from behind him. Immediately alert, he spins round, already pulling out his sword, but he freezes when he spots a figure half-limping towards him.

As he rushes towards the figure, he realises with a jerk that it’s his closest ally. “J-Jimmy?!”

The ruler of the Cod Empire is dishevelled and clearly exhausted, and instead of his normal cod mask, he’s wearing the brown llama mask that Pixl remembers giving him a few weeks ago.

Pixl reaches out to steady his friend, holding him by the arms. “Jimmy, what on earth-?!”

“Gosh, your empire is… is really out there,” Jimmy murmurs, his words slightly slurred. “In the middle of a desert. I’m so hot…”

With that, he collapses against Pixl.

“Jimmy!” he gasps, propping his unconscious friend up.

He manages to lift Jimmy onto his back and hurriedly carries him over to his home. He lays Jimmy down on his bed and hesitantly removes his friend’s mask.

He’s shocked to see a fairly fresh cut on Jimmy’s face from his left temple to the corner of his left eye. It’s not still bleeding but it looks untreated. Maybe from the last day or so.

Forcing himself to ignore that for now, Pixl fetches some water and an ice pack, the latter of which he applies to Jimmy’s forehead. Immediately, Jimmy lets out a quiet sigh and stirs slightly, though he doesn’t wake.

After about ten minutes of gently tipping sips of water down Jimmy’s throat, Jimmy’s eyelids flutter.

“Hey,” says Pixl quietly, giving his friend a soft smile. “Can you hear me?”

Blinking groggily, Jimmy frowns. “What happened? Where am I?”

“In my empire,” says Pixl. “Do you not remember?”

Jimmy lifts a hand to his forehead. “My head’s a little fuzzy.”

“I’m not surprised; you were pretty dehydrated. Do you have any idea how long you were wandering around in the desert?”

“No, not really.”

“Well if you walked all the way here from your kingdom, it’s a wonder you didn’t parch to death,” Pixl responds. “Why didn’t you use your elytra?”

“I wanted to walk as long as possible and then when I eventually tried to take off, I realised I didn’t have any rockets,” says Jimmy sheepishly.

Pixl chuckles. That’s so Jimmy. “Right, I see. Why would you want to walk all the way here, anyway? We didn’t have a meeting or anything, did we?”

“No, I…” Jimmy hesitates. “I just needed a break. And I wanted to see you. And I needed to be several thousand blocks away from everyone else.”

“Really?” Pixl frowns. “Are you okay?”

Jimmy hesitates again, before deciding to tell the truth. “Um… no. I’m not okay. A lot of stuff happened yesterday and I’d really like to curl up and cry right now.”

Pixl gives his friend a sympathetic look. “Tell me about what happened.”

“W-Well…” Jimmy sits up in the bed, taking a deep breath. “fWhip covered my nether portal in cobblestone so I told him to come over and clear it up but he used tnt to blow it up and then when I told him to fix the hole in the ground, he blew a bigger hole under the first one and then Scott and Gem showed up and I was hoping they might be on my side but apparently Scott actually helped fWhip make the cobblestone thingy so then I got really mad and hit fWhip with my sword but then he killed me and stole my Codfather mask and I begged him to give it back but he just flew off with it a-and I don’t know how to get it back now cuz Scott said I keep starting things I can’t finish and that even with my allies, I couldn’t hope to beat fWhip but I need that mask back Pixl I can’t-.”

Sensing Jimmy’s rising panic, Pixl quickly grabs Jimmy’s shoulders to stop his friend. “Hey hey hey, shh. It’s okay, Jimmy. Shh.”

Jimmy lets his breathing settle, clearing his throat as his voice cracks. “Wh-What’s wrong with me, Pixl…?” he whispers. “Why am I such an easy target? Is this all because I stole stuff from Sausage so early on? Do I deserve all this?”

“No, Jimmy,” replies Pixl immediately. “fWhip is being a bully, and bullies always have their buddies backing them up so they feel stronger. First it was Sausage, now it’s Scott.”

“I just… I just don’t understand. I thought Gem and Katherine were my allies but Gem is now fully on fWhip’s side and Katherine pretends she’s on everyone’s side but she always seems to back up the person who isn’t me. Who do I have on my side?”

“You’ve got me, you’ve got Joel, you’ve got Lizzie.”

“I do trust Joel and Lizzie, and you of course, but… I-I’m just kinda expecting everyone to leave me if another alliance offers something better. And I wouldn’t even blame them.”

Pixl pauses, casting a brief look at the walls surrounding him. “...well, I’ll never leave you.”

“I-I don’t think you can realistically promise that,” Jimmy responds dejectedly.

This reinforces Pixl’s resolve. “I’m doing it anyway. You need an ally you can always count on, and I will be that ally. No matter what, Jimmy, I’ll stick by you. I know my empire is a long way from yours but if you ever need backup again, send me a message and I’ll drop whatever I’m doing and fly straight over.”

“Really…?” Jimmy stares at him with hopeful eyes. “Wh-Why would you do that for me? Aren’t there better, stronger empires out there you can ally with?”

“Frankly, yeah, there are. But I don’t care. It’s not all about power.”

Jimmy scoffs.

“It’s not,” Pixl repeats. “Power gets you through a war, sure, but wars aren’t the only things empires have to deal with. You’re a kind and fair ruler to your subjects, Jimmy. Villagers, animals, everything. You always go the extra mile to ensure their comfort and safety, and in this world, that’s a rarity. Power really isn’t the only thing that matters. It’s one of the biggest, but that doesn’t mean you should be counted out just on lack of power. That’s why you find yourself a powerful ally, right? And I like to flatter myself that I’ve built up a pretty powerful empire here. Maybe not fWhip-level powerful, but strong enough to defend us both if a certain tnt-crazed empire comes calling.”

Jimmy gazes at him. “Would you really put your empire on the line for my fights?”

“Of course.” Pixl gives him a kind smile. “That’s what allies do.”

“...Pixl, I…” Jimmy can hardly muster any words to express his emotions. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. All we need to do is take care of each other and we’ll be okay.”

“Pix…” Jimmy is almost completely lost for words. He’s never had someone show this level of dedication towards him before, especially considering they haven’t known each other very long. “A-Anything you need, Pix, anything at all, just ask.”

Pixl’s smile falls as his eyes flicker up to the scar on Jimmy’s face. “Actually… I do have a question. How did you get that scar on your face?”

“Huh?” Jimmy’s hand automatically moves to touch the jagged line on his forehead. “Oh. This. A, um… a piece of debris from fWhip’s second tnt explosion got me. Nearly got my eye, actually.”

“It looks bad. Untreated.”

“Yeah, I… I’m not so good at first aid and I did ask Scott and Gem if one of them could help me clean it but they refused.”

Pixl’s eyes widen. “They what?!”

Jimmy nods sadly. “They made some excuses and left. Scott said it didn’t look that bad and I could deal with it myself. I looked at it in the river and I also didn’t think it looked that bad.”

“Gosh.” Pixl shakes his head disapprovingly, a deep frown on his face. “That’s… That’s so terrible.”

“I-I’m sorry,” whispers Jimmy.

“What? No, not you. I can’t believe Scott and Gem would leave you when you were clearly hurt. Do you have a first aid kit back in your base? And your food situation: do you have enough food? What’s your diet like?”

A little taken aback by the sudden questions, Jimmy hesitates. “I’ve, uh… been eating fish, mostly. Cod Empire, you know.”

“Any potatoes? Carrots?”

Jimmy shakes his head.

Pixl scrutinises him. “Right, okay. Jimmy, you’re gonna stay with me here for a while.”

“A-A while?”

“A few days. You’ve been through a lot lately; you need someone to take care of you. I’ll get that wound treated for you, show you around my empire, and make sure you get some nutrients in your diet. Do you have a potato farm?” Before Jimmy can reply, Pixl continues, “Nevermind, I’ll get you enough potatoes to either get started or improve it, whichever. You need to keep drinking water, though; you’ll get dehydrated really fast in the desert.”

He pauses as he registers the smile on Jimmy’s face. “What?” he chuckles.

“Nothing.” Jimmy averts his gaze, though his smile remains. “Just… thank you. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have you on my side.”

Pixl smiles back and squeezes Jimmy’s shoulder.

“I’ll always be on your side, Jimmy. Always.”

[popculturebuffet]

The Not-So Secret Origins of Darkwing Duck Finale: The Duck Knight Returns!: Keep, Getting, Up.

Hello all you happy people and welcome to the finale of “The Secret Origins of Darkwing Duck”, my look at the many origins of Darkwing Duck for his 30th birthday. And fittingly I saved the best for last.. and also the last for last but that isn’t quite as catchy. Yes it’s time to finally tackle the Ducktales origin story for our hero, the finest one and frankly one of the finest superhero origins in superhero history “The Duck Knight Returns”. 

To get here though, the creators, specifically Frank Angones, had to take a massive gamble. Frank had a plan we all know now, a brilliant one that would give the hero a proper origin for season 2.. but require both waiting that long and waiting out fan outrage at what the plan was on the surface: To take this legendary hero many people loved and wanted to see as a full part of this unvierse.. and make him into a tv show that happened in universe.  It’d lead to this brilliant origin story.. but he coudln’t tell them that, the most he could tell them was “Wait for it, I got something” and give a hint with him in a tiny costume. Tell them “This was just leading to the main event”, but couldn’t tell them what, leaving a lot of fans pissed for a good two years. And pissing off a large portion of your nostalgic, and modern, fanbase for that long, and KNOWING you will takes guts, and Frank had em.. and frank’s instincts were right. 

See once the episode aired the clouds parted, the outrage stopped, and fans stood up and cheered. Frank had played them, he played them good and they liked it. 

So what’ dhe do? Why is this origin story the best of the best? and why.. is this episode a bit lacking despite that? Well the answers are inside.. except the last one it’s very obviously the whole subplot with Scrooge, Boorswan and Dewey, but i’ll get into WHY exactly ti’s a problem under the cut. So lets, get, DANGEROUS shall we?

We open with the final episode of Darkwing Duck. It was previously set up this very season in the previously reviewed “Friendship Hates Magic!” that Darkwing Duck ended on a cliffhanger after an abrupt cancelation. Which.. honestly is something that kinda stings to think about given not two days ago Final Space was canceled, hopes of a finale movie or fourth season are dim, and this is close to a year after Adult Swim also canceled the venture brothers (Though at least since then we’ve got a movie announnced). Point is I get why Launchpad maybe needed to write and film a fanscript with a middle aged housekeeper. 

Said episode is in line with the original real world series in tone, with darkwing fighting a masked figure trying to blow up an orphanage, getting blown up slaspstick and unmasks his foe only to find .. himself!

We then cut to where the episodes being screned Ceaser’s Parking lot.. well more like a furniture store parking lot where Jim Starling, the actor who played Darkwing Duck is doing a ribbon cutting... and a nice sight gag later shows this was SUPPOSED to be Johnny as part of the ongoing ottoman empire drama... seriously this comedy subplot about two characters who are functionally identical having a falling out.. which somehow still sticks the landing better than the actual major Louie story arc... AS A RESULT OF SAID STORY ARC. 

Yeah i’m going to let that one marinate as we move on to the actual focus: two fans and one boy sidekick in line for autographs: Launchpad, Dewey, who apparently takes launchpad to a lot of these because Launchpad only has one adult friend and as this season already established Fenton dosen’t have a lot of free time, and Drake, who the episode dosen’t identify till the end but i’m going ahead with because it’d be awkard to dance around something all of you already know for dramtatic effect. 

Turns out Launchpads been to a LOT of signings with jim, offering Drake with advice, and already having chemistry with the guy before passing out at seeing his hero. Let’s be fair here i’d do the same if I saw Al Ewing at a signing. 

Turns out though Jim.. is a pretty massive bag of dicks atop a cascading mountain of dicks. He moans to his agent about not getting any parts despite having an actually earned reputation of being a difficult asshole on set, is openly ungreatful of his fans , brushing drake off, taking an itnresting in dewey only because he’s young and thus a new fanbase and being audiably disapointed when it turns out the autograph is for launchpad. He’s completely and totally up his own ass so far you can see his head when he talks. 

So naturally the only thing that gets the egotistical old bastard to perk up is finding out Darkwing Duck is trending, their making a new movie and enlisting Launchpad to take him there. I”ll get more into Jim’s character as a whole in a bit, for now our heroes make their way to McDuck Studios!

It’s here though the episode also gas guns itself in the foot with a bowling ball.  There’s a lot to unpack with this scene so i’m going to contain my rage for a second and give it to you straight up: Scrooge, who hasn’t seen a movie since 1920, is concerned with the films budget, having only agreed to this film because Boreswan assured him it’d be a crowdpleasingwithin budget blockbuster, while Boreswan is “but the ARTTTTT”. Our heroes come in, Scrooge rightly points out he never told Dewey he owned a stuido for this reason, and Boreswan shows them the trailer, with Launchpad not liking it because it’s “not darkwing duck”, jim hating it because h’es not in it and Dewey hating it because i’ts not for kid. Said trailer is a parody of grim and gritty reboots in the veign of the dark knight trilogy and zack snyder. Scrooge gives creative control to Dewey because he’s the youth, Drake arrives as the new darkwing, Jim tries to kill him, he and launchpad get thrown out, we’ll get back to the good part in a moment. So your all refreshed on what happened? Good.. then....

You being the plot, you readers terrific. Okay

1) Scrooge... just... just Scrooge. There’s so much wrong with this scenario. For starter shi mnot having seen any movies since 1930, nor having invested in the movie buisness outside of his own low budget saftey films for alllll tha ttime. I call the bullest of all bullshit on this one. For starters there is no feasable way that Scrooge would sit on making money off one of the most lucrative industries in existance. Educational films are a decent market as are saftey films: he could easily make them for other companies extra cheap using donald as he clearly already tended to since he works cheap. But beyond that the film industry is a global juggernaught of money with TONS of ways to profit off it from making film: Making cheap equipment, renting equipment to filmakers, leasing mcduck properties for shoting, setting up stuidos for shooting they could both rent out AND use for their own productions, selling old props, video stores back when that was a thing, stremaing now.. there’s SO many ways Scrooge could make a decent profit off this over the decades he’s been at this ther’es no way he woudln’t have a deaprtment. I could buy him not getting how to make a blockbuster and thus meddling where he dosen’t get it, but the way it’s framed is tha the knows nothing about film and never tried despite being someone all about risk, reward and profit. And ther’es so much in film and so many peopl ehe coudl trust to basically run it for him, that it’s damn near impossible he sat on it and even more so he didn’t step in till they asked for more money. If the film was going overbudget he woudl’ve sent one of the buzzards over to penny pinch ages ago and they would’ve gladly done so as they need to embezzel theat money for more fowl jetskis. 

2) For an episode about accepting reboots, about both chershing an original work and letting others enjoy a new version of it.. they decided to also poke fun at gritty divisive reboots of popular stuff. The message of the ep isn’t bad, lettting someone enjoy their versoin of something even if you don’t and letting it inspire a new generation.. but it kinda sidesteps the fact that Allistor’s reboot is genuinely bad, he cares nothing about the property, and he learns nothing. You can’t have a reboot that’s genuinely terrible and NEEDS to be stopped at the cente rof your disertation on why reboots aren’t a bad thing> They arne’t, this show, she ra and jellystone are proof, but then don’t use something BLATNATLY evolcative of the zack snyder films, films that also used heroes more as symbols, were annoyingly pretinous and sucked gas while misunderstanding what they were remaking, is not how you do it. It’d of worked better if Boreswan’s reboot genuinely wasn’t bad, just very diffrent from the original,and he had genuine respect for the original. Instead he just comes off as, much like Snyder, a pretenious ass who dosen’t get the character. They also weirdly dip some Christopher nolan in there.. when he only made ONE bad batman film and one that’s bad nhot for how nolan’s usual batman tropes, but beacuse it was long, overly padded and not very satisfying as a conclusion to this epic trilogy. 

3) Why in the 39 flavors is Scrooge basing his opinion SOLEY on Dewey. See I get that their trying to spoof network execs foistering changes on movies in order to be more profitable at the sake of merit which again, I get it. He works for Disney aka 50 first gay characters, I GET IT. It just dosen’t work here because of the characters at play. Scrooge isn’t THIS stupid on a good day, and has three other kids at home he can call on for a focus group. As is it’s Scrooge letting his dumbest nephew actively ruin his big budget film because he dosen’t understand how films work. Which granted probably is why half of studio disasters happened and why we need an Ayer Cut, but dosen’t work for SCROOGE. He’s not this dumb and no one calls him out on it. It again would’ve worked better with Scrooge bringing in the others and letting them run wild, having it play out character wise, and have Huey be the ignored voice of reason. And i’ts not because he’s my tiny red son, he’s the logical choice: Della or Beakley would also butt in in their own ways as a reckles doofus and darkwing fangirl respectively. With Donald in space Huey is the only one who’d see the mess they were making. Louie would try and sequeeze stuff in for box office and Webby like Dewey would just go kind of insane. I will grant that Dewey’s changes are objectively hilaroius, but plot wise i’ts just UTTERLY agrivating. 

So yeah this part of the plot sucks and it sucks energy out of the episode when we have to go back to it. The only bright side to it is Dewey’s insane changes, including a mascot of himself, the darkwing dance crew, and megavolt as bane. 

So back at the plot people care about, Jim formally adopts Launchpad as his sidekick, hatching a scheme to get himself back in the roll: Jim will sneak on set and take the part while Launchpad will do the same, beating up and kidnapping Drake so Jim can do said part-taking. Even with a brain that’s just a bear riding a motorcycle in a circle with a darkwing duck hat, Launchpad can tell something’s wrong here and only goes along with it because his hero tells him to. Which again let’s be fair if Al Ewing asked me to rob a bank i’d probably at least consider it. 

Jim tries faking being a package guy and runs into Tad, played by DW creator Tad Stones, who has never heard of the show which sets Jim off into a homicidal rage again.. but at least it creates a distractoin for Launchpad. 

This being Launchpad the plan lasts all of two minutes before he gets trapped in the trailer he just broke into. Drake shows his heroic instincts by rescuing launchpad only to quickly find out “Oh shit this guy’s broken into my trailer and wants to kidnap me”> A fight ensues which shows off two things: Drake is an expert martial artist in this continuity. While he COULD fight in the original and does have an old martial arts teacher, he mostly used his wits and his gas gun, usually both together, to best his foes, like spiderman but with more gas.  This Drake’s no less scrappy or clever mind, he’s just better at hand to hand and it’s how he prefers to deal with things. 

The other is that Launchapd dosen’t want to do this, purely playing defensive. It’s clear he KNOWS this has to be wrong deep down but his brain simply can’t reconcile jim’s actions being as bad and selfish as they are with jim also being his hero and inspiration. 

Hilariously though Drake can’t help but call out to Launchpad not to destroy various merch duing their fight, something launchpad respects... and gets him to notice Drake’s trailer, a mini-musuem to darkwing duck with all kinds of merch even Launchpad, me sized nerd that he is, dosen’t have including a banned action figure.. which naturally he asks to play with and just as naturally, Drake obliges

So after more deep hurting, we cut back to these two who are having the time of their life, playing with action figures and holding them over Drake’s iron... which he has in his trailer that has no room for an ironing board ...

So the two get talking because the only way to start, is heart to heart and we get Drake’s backstory: He was a bullied, shy little kid who wasn’t very happy.. until he caught this tv show with a guy that no matter how much he got beaten, or mocked or blown up or crashed (that one was launchapd’s addition).. he got back up. This inspired drake to not only start cosplaying as the daring duck of mystery, but also get a cool lunchbox.. neither of which impressed his bullies to Launchpad’s suprise.. but which simply lead to Drake now fighting back, getting up and taking them out. He wants to star in the film because while he knows it’s not good and not relaly true to the source material he wants to inspire some other kid with a lunch box, touching Launchpad into deciding to try to talk jim into letting Drake do the part. 

There’s a lot to unpack with this new version. The first is that it takes almost entirely from Paraducks: Drake was bullied and shy, got inspiration from darkwing duck (a tv show instead of his future self this time), and then fought back and became his best self. 

The other part is just how utterly brillliant, heartfelt, well crafted and personal this feel. It’s VERY obvious how much Darkwing Duck means to frank, and in crafting a version of darkwing that had the same inspiration he does, i.e. the tv show, he gets to lovingly show it. To show how a cartoon can really impact someone and make their life better and be an important part of their life, to show kids i’ts okay to let that happen and to let the adults watching this show, those who watched the original and realitive newcomers like me, that you are seen. 

It also cleverly defines this version of Drake: the orignal was your classic Jerk with a Heart of Gold: doing the superheroing mostly for his own ego, being short and assholish with his best friend and daughter, not wanting to share his spotlight. But underneath it as a true hero who genuinely loved those people and lets them make him better. 

This drake still has flecks of the old darkwing ego, especailly in Moonvasion which again i’ve already covered, but he’s mostly just an earnest guy who wants to be someone for kids to look up to. He wants fame, respect and to live out his dreams being a superhero, sure, but he wants to do so at it’s core to help the helpless and inspire kids like him. He wants to be a hero for all the best reasons that define a superhero: to make lives better using whatever skills he has, to be hope for the hopeless. It’s a key part of what makes this origin work so well: the heart of it. Part of this reboot’s strength is adding depth to things, to give character motivation for why they do stuff.. and they gave drake a perfect one. 

They also cleverly found a use for who darkwing used to be.. by showing what he could’ve been. See Jim , whose been sneaking around, is another key peice of this.... and when he finds Drake, who despite Jim’s earlier assault is geninely kind and tells him how much he means.. Jim beats him up, locks him away and plans to take the roll, his eyes going a familiar shade of crazy as they do. 

Jim is a dark mirror of what Drake Classic COULD have been: Without a higher goal of helping people (If not as high as his reboot counterpart but darkwing still cares abou this job), or two people who truly love him and get him to see past himslef. What’s left is an egocentric, selfish, hot dogging, grandstanding, violet, petty, shell of a man with no great goal in life other than making himself look good and being validated by the world. He’s darkwing’s egocentric need to be noticed and adored turned psycotic. He’ll do ANYTHING to get HIS spotlight back no matter how much he dosen’t desrve it, how much he lost it due to his own behavior and how much someone else badly needs it more for better reasons. He dosen’t need anyone else except to serve or praise him. 

Unsuprsingly Jim Cummings plays this perfectly, and I applaud him: he was asked not only to NOT play darkwing, but to instead play an evil mirror of the character that shares Jim’s own name.. and being Jim Fucking Cummings said “of course” and gave one hell of a perforamnce. The episode is already good just iwth drake.. but giving him Jim to contrast with puts it over the top. 

This thus leads to our climax and one of the show’s finest scenes and probably my faviorite: Jim takes up the roll, refusing to give up to Megavolt as boreswan wants because symbolisim!, and ends up taking the villians gun which is an actual HIGH POWERED LIGHTNING GUN .... and I really don’t know why i’m shocked. Dewey probably just stole it from Gyro. He has to make them all pay SOMEHOW. That or scrooge just keeps a storage bin on the set of all of Gyro’s invetnions he took away from the guy before he made the mall pay. Either way I buy it. 

As a fire breaks out, Jim REFUSES to let anyone leave, not caring who dies as long as he gets his moment. Finally seeing his hero for what he is, Launchpad shields boreswan.. when we hear a familiar catchphrase...

                   I am the terror that flaps in the night,  I am the overstuffed burrito that spills in the lap of crime!                                   I am DARKWING DUCK!

With those word, a legend is reborn. Props to Chris for absolutely nailing his first terror that flaps in the night speech and for the writers for absolutely nailing what made them work. 

So a battle natrually ensues, as Drake shows off just how “scrappy and resilient” he is, having shrugged off the door earlier and walking off explosions and getting a piano knocked on him.. all to keep getting up. it dosen’t matter if the person who taught him that is the person knocking him down...he won’t stop getting up.

This leads to a BEAUTIFUL fight sequence as both darkwings fight hand to hand. Scrooge dosen’t interfere.. because he can’t tell them apart. Despite wearing diffrent costumes and him being you know mr.see all the angles. 

Oh and he also brings up “If only one of them had a moustache”, as there’s been a whole runner about him thinking film villians need Dick Dastardly mustaches

Back to the fight it’s utterly spectacular, with Launchpad running to turn the sprinklers on... after giving out a let’s get dangerous with his future boyfriend and both geeking out over it. This might be the most relatable episdoe of the entire show. 

Eventually just as Jim is about to decaptiate Drake with a chainsaw, Launchpad begs him to stop giving a heartfelt speech, which actually gets Jim to drop it. We also get the iconic line of “He knows a lot about this one thing”. Just thought i’d mention it. 

Sadly Jim’s story does not end happily as he once again lets his own ego get int he way, shoving Drake out of the way to save Launchpad when the last pylon overloads, seemingly dying doing something GOOD for once.

The film is shut down.. not because of the tragic death of a douchebag.. but because they didn’t get any of that and Scrooge is VERY stupid and dosen’t get he’s not getting ANY money back not continuing production or just you know HIRING A BETTER DIRECTOR. 

Whatever, back to our boys. Drake is not in a great place: his hero is dead after trying to kill him, his film is gone, his career is gone.. but Launchpad has a suggestion: be Darkwing for real. He has the talent, he looks good in a cape, and gizmoduck does it. (”And I am better than gizmoduck” proving some things never really change). With that Drake decides to take his soulmate’s advice to heart, signs the poster and reveals his name, becoming who he was born to be... a hero. 

And as a hero rises.. so does a villian as we catch up with Jim whose still alive.. but his mind is now throughly gone.. and his costume now a VERY familiar shade of yellow. 

It was all a setup! That hack put my fan in danger to steal                                           the glory and humiliate me! 

                         They want “grim and gritty”, huh? 

                                        Happy to play the part... 

And with that.... Negaduck.. is also reborn.  He WAS supposed to show up in let’s get dangeorus, but the crew felt it’d be a bit too crowded so they save dhim for season four

So yeah unless Frank rightfully gets to reboot the show, which given he gave them TWO backdoor pilots for it, they better, this will never be resolved and I can’t blame the crew. They had SO MUCH ELSE to unpack in season 3 before the finale in case they didn’t get renewed, that some things just wren’t going to.Still a damn fine villian origin

Final Thoughts:

This episode is pretty good: amazing acting with Chris Dimatopouls perfectly stepping into the role and Jim perfectly stepping back into an old roll of his.. if not the one people expected, a jaw dropping finale, great chemistry with drake and launchpad. It took a VERY risky narrative idea and paid it off brilliantly. 

As i’ve said it’s only real weakness is the scrooge part of things where he’s made to look like this...

For the entire episode. Boorswan likewise isn’t likeable, coming off as a pretenious twit who dosen’t care about the franchise he’s actively ruining.  Dewey is the only bright spart of that whole messy part of the episode and it drags would WOULD be one of the series best episodes down as a result.  Still ther’es WAY too much good here for this to be a bad one, just not one of the best like it coul’dve been. Still worth checking out. 

If you enjoyed this review, consider joining my patreon to help keep this blog afloat HERE which also helps me hit various stretch goals to do even more reviews. See you real soon!

[writewithurheart]

Hearts of Kyber

a/n: Hello lovely readers!! I’ve been working on this work for the last couple months (and especially the last couple days). It has been an absolute pleasure working with these amazing artists who are astounding. I hope you love what we’ve put together!!

Corporalki: @kazandthecrows

Materialki: @anubem (art link) @generalstarkov (art link) @pijoshi (art link) @mitdemadlerimherzen (art link | art link 2) @erandraws (art link) @nannadoodles (art link) 

Summary: When an Imperial pilot defects, the Rebellion sends its best spies to find out what he knows. They discover the existence of a planet-destroying weapon known as the Death Star and a scientist who holds the secrets to its only weaknesses. Guided by the pilot, Wylan, and a former storm trooper, Matthias, Kaz Brekker leads a team to uncover the secret that can save the Rebellion before it’s crushed for good.

A Grishaverse Rogue One AU for the Grishaverse Big Bang 2021 

Read on AO3 or below the cut 

Part I

Inej barely remembers those early days with her family living in the heart of a city. She gets flashes of memories - playing with dolls, toddling after her father, parties full of boring adults who couldn’t care less about her. What she thinks of when she remembers her family is what came after: the travelling band of performers they joined. It’s there that she felt comfortable. The troupe was her family: they encouraged her, taught her tricks of the trade, and were the ones who trained her as an acrobat. They travelled from system to system, performing in cities and small villages alike, on hot planets and cold. She had careful rules to follow about her interactions whenever they landed. 

Despite all the restrictions, she remembers feeling carefree. The caravan was her domain and she was empress. The day her life changed was just like any other. She remembers her mother running a hand over her hair, whispering that they were going down into town. Her sleepy head full of cotton can’t remember her exact words, just the feeling of warmth, the comfort of routine. Only recently - on her eighth birthday - had she earned the right to sleep in instead of joining her parents’ customary outing.  

Sometimes in her waking hours, she forgets that happened years ago and in her half-waking state she thinks she can still hear her mother’s soothing whisper and her father patting her hand as he tucks her treasured stuffed bear under the blankets of her bed so she has company. 

Inej’s eyes fly open as the harsh lights of simulated daylight jolt her unrelentingly from her sleep into the cold reality of her life. 

She rolls up to a seated position and runs her arm over her sleepy face. She makes no effort to make herself presentable and glares at her arm with the repulsive peacock feather tattoo. It’s been eight years since that morning when her whole life burned around her, her whole extended family vanished in the blink of an eye and she was sold into the slave markets of the Hutts before she was even aware what that meant. 

“Inej Ghafa, the mistress will see you now,” a mechanical voice says over the speaker hidden in her room. Luxurious drapes and curtains cover the mechanical aspects of the room, but can’t hide the prison-like nature of a room without windows in a pleasure house. This has always been Inej’s cage. 

Of course, to the Empire, this isn’t slavery. She has an indenture that she’s working off, this was a choice she made. Inej stands. The words are bullshit. It’s a pretty story told by those who believe themselves to be above such terrible things just because they use different words. Inej is old enough to know what happens in the different rooms of the pleasure house she currently calls home, but still too young to be expected to participate fully. But she knows her days are numbered. 

Girls in this trade grow up quickly. She’s still a tease, only suffering a a groping hand here, a leer there, the occasional bit of voyeurism which makes her skin prickle and means she can never feel comfortable in any room, including her own.

Inej dresses with practiced movements in the ridiculous trappings Madam Helene requires. There are far too many bells on the outfit, too many dangling bits that can tangle for it to really be the exotic outfit Helene claims the clients want. She hates the way the silk feels against her skin when it used to mean the soothing comfort of performance attire. 

For now, her role is to just be an ornamentation for the pleasure house, but madame makes sure she knows what could happen the moment she steps a toe out of line. She’s not above selling Inej off before her time, the cost of which would do nothing to lower the exorbitant cost of her supposed indenture.  

Inej keeps her head down and walks quickly to the main room. In the early hours, there are few patrons who might be looking for a companion, but Inej has learned to keep her head down in any case. She’s short and skinny - underdeveloped to most tastes - so aren’t many interested in her and the ones that are she should avoid with even more care.  

There’s a boy in the room with Helene: a boy with a familiar cane. Inej is so surprised to see him that she forgets to look away meekly when his dark eyes meet hers. She tilts her head in curiosity. Last she saw, he was slipping out of a back hallway which she knew allowed Helene to eavesdrop on clients as they spent the night with girls, or that she offered to well-paying customers who took pleasure from that sort of thing. 

He looks just as cold as he did that night, but she vividly remembers the surprise in his eyes when she spoke from over his shoulder. He wasn’t a regular customer at the brothel but he was on good terms with a couple members of the staff and she’d seen him exchange kruge for information on more than one occasion. Last she saw him, she’d offered him help. 

“Ah, there’s my little Suli Lioness.” Madam Helene smiles benevolently, but her perfume chokes Inej as she wraps an arm around her. “Inej, do you know who this is?” 

“They call him Dirtyhands,” she answers, voice proper and meek as Helene likes. All the other girls have told her not to ask questions any time she tries to find out more. She can’t help but wonder if offering herself to him was a mistake, but she knows this place will kill her if she doesn’t find a way out. 

“Hmm…,” Madame hums. She turns to the boy with a set face and Inej’s chest tightens in apprehension. “I’m afraid your offer will not be accepted, Mr. Brekker. Inej is precious to me.” Her bejeweled fingers dig into Inej’s shoulder. “I couldn’t possibly part with her.” 

The boy raises an impeccable eyebrow. “I was under the impression our negotiations were finalized.” 

Helene releases an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, you silly boy. Did you know the Empire has offered quite the reward for you?” 

Inej tenses. She knows that Madame is fickle in her alliances, but she’s never openly invited storm troopers into her house: they don’t pay well. 

“You’d better run, little boy, if you want to get out of here before they can grab you.” 

Two doors into the main room slide open with a whoosh of air to reveal armored bodies with blasters levelled at the boy. Inej’s quick eyes note that the door closest to Brekker has no guard, instead being left clear if he wants to escape. If she were him, she would be running but instead he looks bored as he stares back at Madame. He lifts his wrist to check his time piece, an old fashioned analog device that hasn’t been used in decades. 

There’s a pulse of static followed by a volley of blaster shots. Inej jerks down out of the way but is shocked to see that none of the shots were aimed at them. 

“You should have taken the money, Helene,” the boy shaking space dust from his jacket. “We could have continued this lucrative partnership.” 

Madame pales and looks around at the rumpled crew of men who are all standing around. Most have holstered their guns, but a tall dark-skinned man walks up to them and gestures Helene back away from Inej. Madame drops her grip as if she can’t get her distance fast enough. She turns to the boy. 

“Please! You have to understand, the troopers would have killed me if I didn’t.” 

The boy looks at her impassively before shrugging. “Per Haskell is still willing to buy out her indenture. I’m sure we can agree on a more reasonable price.” 

Inej snorts. She can’t help it. They’re literally haggling over the price of her indenture after not killing one another. Frankly, it’s ridiculous. The boy looks over at her. Although his face is a mask which reveals no secrets, Inej sees a hint of amusement lurking in his dark eyes before he focuses again on Madame Helene. 

“Congratulations,” the dark-skinned man who shooed Madame Helene away says, leaning down to her, even as his eyes stay on the boy and madam. “You’re being rescued.” 

She looks around at the rag tag group she’s now willing to bet are Rebellion spies and wonders if this will actually be any better. Beyond them, she spots a couple of Helene’s girls with their bloodshot eyes, thin skin and haunted looks. It’s enough to remind her that is it. This is what she wants: a chance to save her father and get revenge on the Empire which has caused her so much pain. 

Inej straightens as much as she can. It looks like she’s joining the rebellion. 

...

Three years later… 

“You ever wonder if Kaz is actually a demon?” Jesper asks speculatively. He points his blaster to the sky and stares down the barrel. It’s in the best possible order he can make it. The sights are calibrated, the lazer refined and the trigger pull smooth. He couldn’t ask for a better weapon. 

Other than it’s partner, which is still in his holster and also freshly taken care of. 

“You’re supposed to be watching his back, Jesper,” the Wraith’s voice reminds him, tinged with annoyance. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, rolling over so he can look over the side of the building to where Kaz is meeting with his contact. “You know, I’m still not sure why all three of us need to be here for one pilot.” 

“If you want, we can always switch positions,” Inej offers. “You can play get-away pilot.” 

Jesper snorts as he lines up his sight again. “Yeah, right. That’s all yours, spider. Besides we needed the sniper position here, remember?” 

There’s a long suffering sigh over the radio and Jesper grins. Through the scope his eyes bounce to Kaz. He can’t see his face, but Jesper knows he’s got that stone face of annoyance, which, as it turns out, is not so different from his normal ambivalent face except that it includes the slight twitching of the vein at his temple. 

Inej claims he’s seeing things, that it’s all in Jesper’s head. According to her, Kaz’s tell has to do with his eyes or some other sappy thing like that because they’re both secretly in love with each other. Jesper thinks they’re both idiots and he likes to think that one day, if he makes a bad enough joke or an inappropriate enough comment, that vein on Kaz’s temple is going to burst. 

He thinks it's good to have goals like that. It makes the dirty work they do for the Rebellion more palatable. 

“I still think it would be better to have me on the ground,” Inej grumbles. “You know I’m no good at the piloting stuff.” 

“You’re the one who wanted to come. If I recall, Per Haskell offered you leave and instead you came here.” Jesper notices the stiffening of Kaz’s shoulders. His informant is still calm, if a little jumpy-looking, so he knows that’s not the source of the tension. His eyes scan the street and see nothing alarming. 

Jesper hasn’t asked but he knows there’s something going on here that they’re not sharing. Inej has been wound tight since they started to hear rumors of an Imperial weapon strong enough to take out a planet. While it was still just a rumor, Kaz and Inej were chasing the thread down with a vengeance. It’s what brought them back to this city world where they had found Inej three years ago. 

Now if only his sneaky little cohorts would share the secret with him. That would be great. 

Jesper grumbles to himself. Like that would ever happen. He looks through the scope of his rifle. The tell tale of white of stormtrooper armor catches his eye and Jesper focuses on the location. The odd trooper presence in a city like this isn’t necessarily something to make note of. It happens on occasion, but this is a pair and he can spot another pair making their way in what looks to his eyes like search patterns. 

“Heads up, Kaz. We might have company.” Jesper says as he keeps an eye on the soldiers. “Moving in pairs. Looks like a search pattern.” 

They’re too far away to hear the words that are spoken, but Jesper can guess what it is from here: “Hey! You there!” 

He watches as Kaz drags their contact into an alley as the storm troopers converge from two directions. 

“I’ve lost sight of you, Kaz.” Jesper sights the troopers through his scope and taps a finger against the trigger. Killing troopers brings more attention than Kaz likes. They work in secret. “Exit strategy?” 

Through Kaz’s comm he hears the panicked pleas of Kaz’s contact swiftly silenced by a laser bolt. He grimaces at the additional body count as Kaz’s gravelly voice comes over the comm. 

“I’ve got it. Jesper, join Inej. Meet me at the rendezvous point.” 

He takes one last look at the troopers closing in on the alley and then stands. If Kaz needed help, he would ask. The man had a thousand and one plans. There’s no way he didn’t account for a way out of this trap. It sounds like he’s probably climbing, a feat considering his bum leg from when he landed on it wrong a couple years back and it never healed properly.  

“You know, for once I’d like one of these missions to go smoothly,” Jesper mutters under his breath as he hightails it back to the ship. He stows his blaster and keeps it from sight as he moves through the crowds. Seedy cities have been a second home to him for years, since he left the Imperial flight academy, if he’s being honest. He liked the anonymity the city gave him. It always felt better than the emptiness of the moisture farm he grew up on. He hates the heat and the sand. 

Oh, God, the sand. 

He walks aboard the ship with the swagger of a drunk who won big at the betting table. He nods jovially to those he passes. There are a couple glances down to the pistols at his waist, but that’s normal on a large port like this one. Intergalactic travel to major cities has always been fraught with trouble and this one isn’t especially savory. They don’t have the clearance for savory. 

Inej sits on the ramp of the ship, sprawled out across it like a cat. She opens her eyes as he arrives and stretches. “Ready to go?” 

“Shouldn’t the get away pilot be ready to run?” Jesper teases as they walk up into the ship and Inej diverts to the cockpit, starting the take off procedure. 

“I spent the last hour bemoaning my terrible coworker who insists on gambling at each port and always staggers back drunk, occasionally with unexpected company. I’ve already got tower clearance to leave. And taking off won’t set any red flags with the Empire so we’re clear.” 

Jesper drops into the copilot chair as Inej goes through engine checks. “You did all that?” 

“You’re not the only one capable of sweet talking people, Fahey.” She shoots him a look and he chuckles. 

“I remember when your first attempt to blend in. Didn’t you end up stabbing someone?” 

Inej scowls at the memory. “And no one has tried to grab my body since then without a threat of a knife point.” 

Jesper chuckles. “Fair enough.” He shifts as they fly high enough to leave the atmosphere and then drop back down, drifting through the carefully mapped out empty space of blind spots that allow them to drift down to the meeting point. Despite it taking them almost no time to get there, Kaz is already sitting against a crate on the roof of a run down building, cane held out in front of him with his hands crossed on top. 

Jesper moves back toward the loading bay and opens the doors. He leans against the side of the doorway as the ship turns to face Kaz. “Hiya, honey. Miss me?” 

As always Kaz rolls his eyes at Jesper’s attitude as he climbs the ramp. “We’re clean. Any trouble at the port?” 

“Nope,” Inej reports from the cockpit. “Just a couple nosy traders looking for a good time. Sent them after Jesper.” 

“Har har,” he shoots back as the ramp closes with a firm whoosh of pressure stabilizing. He turns to Kaz who has dropped onto the bench and closed his eyes. His lame foot is extended slightly in front of him, a tell that it’s aching from the exercise of escaping the troopers. Jesper can also see where his blaster sticks out from under his jacket, the clip of the holster no longer in place. He definitely used it. “Did you get the intel?” 

Kaz nods. 

“Where are we headed?” Inej asks. From the body of the shuttle, Jesper sees her hand hover over the hyperspeed settings, preparing to change the destination of their jump. 

“The pilot is on Jedha.” 

They both freeze and you could hear a pin drop in the shuttle. Jesper glances at Inej and sees the same worry painted in the lines of her face. “Are you sure?” 

Kaz finally opens his eyes and leans forward. “It’s been confirmed. That’s the second source and this one claims to have actually seen the pilot.” 

“But he’s a defector, why would he go there?” Jesper asks. 

“Jedha’s not a stronghold for the Empire, but they do trade there.” Kaz answers, as if that explains the reasoning. 

“But it’s a Shu stronghold. They’re cut off. We haven’t had contact in years.” Jesper glances at Inej in the cockpit. “Nina was there when the communications shut down. She wasn’t able to get out and no one’s been able to go in.” 

Kaz rams a gloved hand over the top of his cane. “That isn’t strictly true.” 

Inej whips around. “What?” 

He sighs. “We have a way onto the planet. The problem will be finding the defector and getting him to talk to us.” 

“And getting off planet again,” Jesper cuts in. “Or have you forgotten how the Shu seize whoever and whatever they want? There’s a reason we don’t have an outpost there.” 

Kaz stares at him with those cold, blank eyes and then turns toward Inej. “Set the course.” 

For a long moment, Inej doesn’t move. Her fingers tap against the control as she gazes at Kaz with an inscrutable expression on her face for a moment before she turns back to the controls and the ship lurches into hyperspace. 

Jesper crosses his arms as he faces Kaz from across the ship. “You knew we were headed to Jedha.” 

Kaz stares back at him for a moment and then closes his eyes. He leans back against the side of the ship. Jesper wishes he was surprised about the lack of communication. 

He sits down next to Kaz. “This way on to Jedha...does it have anything to do with Nina?” 

Kaz cracks open an eye. He looks Jesper over and shuts them again. “She was able to get one message out since the Shu shut down. The last message that got out - the one that opened a path - the agent was lost. Haven’t heard anything since.” 

“Nina?” 

“Under orders to lay low.” 

“Are we taking her out with us?” 

Kaz’s hands tighten on the head of his cane. “We’ll see.” 

...

There was something happening. Nina looks around the marketplace covertly as she examines the fruit in the stall in front of her. It’s the same bland, slightly bruised fruit that they always have. Two years on this desert planet and she’s still not used to the blandness of the food. She’s missing the lush variety of Aldaraan and the sweets she used to eat by the bushel. There’s no sweets here in Jedha, especially not in the mostly abandoned temple. 

She exchanges a coin for two shrivelled pieces of fruit and a smile with the vendor. She slips off the main thoroughfare and into the archway that leads into the dilapidated temple. Like most of Jedha, it’s covered in a fine layer of sand and dust, and shows the wear and tear of years of war. 

She tosses a piece of fruit to the tall and skulking shadow that leans against the archway. Matthias catches the fruit of the air. He pulls a wickedly long knife from behind his back and cuts the fruit into meticulous pieces, eating with precise movements to stop the juice from creating a sticky mess. 

Nina is far less careful. She bites into the fruit and does her best to stop the overripe fruit from spilling juice down her chin. It’s a messy process and her fingers will end up coated in sugary sweetness. It’s her little act of rebellion that makes Matthias shake his head in her direction, when his eyes aren’t sweeping the plaza. 

“There’s something in the wind,” he says as he slowly eats another slice of his fruit. Nina’s is almost gone. She’s sad for that. 

“Rumors.” Nina glances at the gangsters on the corner of the street with their strange metal suits. They’re looking antsy, searching the street. “There’s not much chatter. Something about an Imperial pilot. Broke through the Shu blockade.” 

Matthias’s eyes drift back across the crowds of people. Nina rearranges her robe and leans against her staff. Two years posing as acolytes of the temple and proselytizing about Sankts has her accustomed to her character. No one bothers with a monk spouting ideas of an old religion they no longer believe in. 

“The Empire is still confined to their kyber shipments,” Matthias observes. He casually cuts the seeds from his fruit. “Their shuttle routes haven’t been altered. The Shu though.” His eyes dart to their locations around the square. “They’re looking for someone.” 

“A defector,” Nina says. 

Matthias finally looks over at her in surprise. “Yours or mine?” 

“Does it matter?” she asks. “Either way, we need to find them before anyone else.” 

“Do we?” Matthias grumbles and slips his knife back into the sheath hidden somewhere on his person. “It’s not like anyone’s come to get us in the last two years.” 

Nina rolls her eyes. They’ve had this argument before. “Come now, druskelle. Where’s that attitude of dedication to the Empire?” 

He snorts. “It died two years ago.” One of the Shu guards moves and Matthias’s attention strays. “Think it’s important enough that they’ll risk their peace with the Shu?” 

Beneath the question is the unspoken one that neither of them have put words to, but they both know is lingering in the back of their minds: Is this defector more important than they are? Nina’s last mission was to get a contact off Jedha to the Rebellion. Matthias had saved her from capture by the Shu and they hadn’t been able to risk an attempt to leave Jedha since then. The Empire had some sort of deal with the Shu that allowed them access to the Kyber mines but that was it. 

“Perhaps it’s time we went to collect tithes, Brother Helvar,” Nina announces. She pulls up the hood of her robes and leans on her staff as she walks out from the temple. Matthias follows behind her with grumbled complaints under his breath. The occupants of the city are familiar with their dynamic, although they’re sure to vary the times they depart the temple. Routines are too predictable. 

Matthias doesn’t speak even as Nina stops to talk with every friendly face she sees. For the first year, he had complained at every moment, even as she explained to him the importance of blending in, of becoming part of the populace. Now he even lets the children climb on him when she stops to share a story about the saints. 

“They’re jumpy,” Lin shares with Nina in whispered tones, her eyes darting around the square even though there don’t appear to be guards around right now. “Jan said he saw stormtroopers preparing to enter the city.” 

Nina performs a blessing on an elderly man. “Any idea what they’re looking for?” 

“A pilot.” Lin shifts her daughter around on her hip. “Imperial pilot. You don’t want to get between the troopers and their goal. The Shu are looking for him too. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of their way.” 

Matthias moves closer. “And the pilot?” 

Lin glances at him and then back at Nina. She’s always been more skittish around men. It’s a look Nina’s uncomfortably familiar with and one she knows speaks to a violent past interaction. The way she grips her daughter just a bit closer breaks Nina’s heart. 

Nina nods encouragingly. 

“Down by the old refractory.” Lin freezes up as soon as the words escape her mouth. Her eyes widen in surprise at what she just divulged. She darts away in a panic, leaving Nina and Matthias to continue to serve the poor with their usual tithes. 

By unspoken agreement, Matthias follows Nina’s lead as she takes them on a winding path. The last year and half of long meandering routes work in their favor as Nina leads them with more purpose. 

It feels good to have a purpose again. She hasn’t had contact with the Rebellion, but if this is big enough that the Empire is willing to fight the Shu for the interloper, then it’s big enough for the Rebellion to also be looking. The Empire has the strength to use brute force. The Rebellion will send Kaz Brekker. Per Haskell would be an idiot to send anyone else. 

As they get closer to their destination, Nina slows her pace and purposefully plays up her monk persona, passing out alms and blessings in equal measure. Matthias moves gruffly in her wake, watching her back in a way that might be suspicious if it hadn’t been his stable characteristic for the last two years. The Shu are used to their dynamic of the devout believer jaded sceptic. They had adopted the personas for safe passage before the Shu blockade and been forced to maintain it since then. 

It was useful, despite neither Nina nor Matthias being well versed in espionage. 

By the time they reach the old refractory buildings, Nina and Matthias are moving at a crawl, speaking to every person they see. Nina’s eyes scan the faces for one that looks out of place, one that screams uncertainty or distrust. 

She gets pointed down a dark alley by one of the urchins after she shares with him one of her precious jojo beans. It’s the closest she can get to her sweets in this city. She glances at Matthias and he nods. His body is intentionally relaxed, ready to move as necessary in response to a threat. 

Nina leads the way into the factory, looking around carefully as they move into the space. She breathes in deeply and sinks into the meditative state. The air around her settles, buzzing with the life force of the inhabitants of the city. In a couple of breaths, she narrows it further so she can feel the interior of the building. 

Matthias mutters under his breath, something about religious mumbo jumbo and insanity. 

Nina turns sideways and opens one eye to glare at Matthias. He rolls his eyes and gestures at her to continue.  

Her use of the Force is unrefined, based more in the faith that it will work than on actual knowledge about what she’s doing. It’s an old religion and the order they’re with is still respected even if not believed in. Okay, so maybe respected is pushing it. They’re disregarded as religious fanatics who don’t do much of anything. 

She follows the light of the Force through the factory, letting it guide her feet, trusting it to protect her from bumping into any of the clutter. Dimly, she senses Matthias grunt as he moves something out of her path before she hits it or it hits her. She keeps her focus on the life signature that shines like a beacon, coming to a stop once they’re in sight of the huddled mass. She opens her eyes and peers into the gloom. 

“We’re here to help you,” Nina says. Her soft voice carries around the large space. She ignores Matthias’s mutter about talking to herself. 

“Who...who are you?” A tremulous voice asks. It sounds younger than Nina expected, more uncertain. She thought a defector would be more hardened, more convinced of their path to go against the Empire in such a way. 

Nina squats down to look at the hunched over figure. Matthias has one hand hovering over his hidden firearm, the other on a dagger. She’s deep in her meditation of the Force and senses no danger from the huddled figure. 

“You’re the pilot, right?” Nina asks instead of answering. 

His eyes look her over, lingering on her and Matthias’s matching robes. “You’re priests?” 

He inches forward. There’s enough light cast on him that his Imperial uniform catches her eye, answering the question he avoids. She smiles softly at him and holds out her hand. Behind her Matthias shifts, disliking her proximity to perceived danger, if she has to guess. 

“Word on the street is you’re a defector. We’re here to help.”  

...

Wylan doesn't think he's ever been this cold in his life. Which is bizarre because this is a desert planet. You'd think it would be warm but instead he's found himself huddled in dark corners, scavenging like a rat for scraps for the last couple days while he tries to escape notice from the Shu. Jedha was supposed to be a safe haven for him, somewhere the Empire couldn't touch. The Shu had tried to grab him first, had detained him and demanded answers to their questions about the Empire. His protests that he wanted to defect fell on deaf ears. Then they'd dragged him into a cave with a beast they called Bor Gullet. 

It's a blur after that. 

He remembers waking in a cell to garbled words, a blurred hologram of his father glaring disdainfully down at him. A comment about the Empire being grateful to the Shu. Wylan doesn't know how he escaped. There's a memory of loud noise, a flash of heat, and dirt. Then it's all dark and cold. 

He'd avoided people after that, stuck to shadows, and only ventured out when the emptiness of his stomach threatened to eat him from the inside out. 

He doesn't even know how long it's been since he escaped the cell...or was released...he doesn't know. 

Then the woman appeared, like an angel out of the darkness and she promises salvation. 

Wylan knows enough of his father's games not to immediately trust the gesture. "Who are you?"  

“We’re with the Rebellion,” she says with a smile. 

The monk behind her rolls his eyes and turns away. They don’t look like any monks he recognises. The only person he’s heard of who truly follows the old religion is the Darkling and Wylan’s not so unfortunate to have ever seen him in person. “You don’t look like Rebels.” 

“He’s right. We don’t,” the man tells her. 

The woman looks over her shoulder, eyes narrowed in a glare. “Matthias Helvar.” She turns conspiratorially back to Wylan and there’s a friendly glint in her eye that makes him want to trust her. “Once he was the most devout of you all. Rose through the ranks of the Empire almost as high as they come. You want out of the Empire. We can help.” 

Wylan’s eyes drift over the man’s features and there’s something that reminds him of the way General Brum’s men carry themselves, the elite of the troopers he’s only seen from a distance. Wylan wants to string words together but they slip away like soap and water. 

“Will you come with us?” She prompts, yet again. 

He can’t combine the fears and hopes and questions into coherent sense. All he can do is nod in agreement. Whether they harm him or save him, he’ll be dead or caught if he stays here on his own. He needs allies and he’s not in a mental state where he can do much of anything himself. 

“Good,” she says. She pulls him forward and manhandles Wylan into a monk’s robe over his tattered pilot’s uniform. “I’m Nina. This is Matthias. We’re going to get you out of here alive. Good?” 

Wylan nods. She shoves a basket into his hands and drops additional bits of clutter from the warehouse floor into it. 

“We should be heading back,” Matthias rumbles. 

“Walk between us,” Nina instructs, pulling the hood of his robe up. Matthias mimics the movement. “Don’t make eye contact. Don’t talk to anyone. Just stay in step with us. We’ll speak for you if it comes to that.” 

Wylan has enough sense to nod along. He knows talking will only give away his current state of complete confusion. He can see the looks Nina and Matthias exchange in response to his silence. He’s not so lost that he doesn’t understand what’s going on but the thoughts take too long to reach his lips and disappear like fragrance on a breeze. 

The ground is dusty and uneven under Wylan’s feet. It captures his attention as he walks, so different from the metal hallways and corridors he’s used to walking.  His feet catch from where they scrape the ground and he tries to tell his body to lift his feet higher, but they don’t seem willing to respond any more than what they do by instinct. When was the last time he walked on anything that wasn’t steel? 

He’s so preoccupied by swirls of dirt that he walks right into a wall. 

Well, not a wall, but the giant monk - Matthias. He bounces off the man’s back, which feels like the equivalent of walking into a wall. The man doesn’t even move in response to him walking into him at full speed, but Wylan almost falls on his butt, and would if it wasn’t for Nina catching him. 

She steps past him to stand next to Matthias. She pushes him further into the shadows behind Matthias as she looks past him to see what’s grabbed his attention. Wylan shuffles sideways and ducks down so he can look around the hulking figures. 

The white helmets break through his current haze and Wylan stumbles backwards. The Storm Troopers followed him. He can’t allow himself to be captured, not after he finally escaped that place and his father’s restrictive control. 

“Wait!” Nina whispers harshly, but Wylan’s body is moving without his consent. The urge to get away is too strong. It drives him, haltingly, step-after-step through twisting and confusing alleyways. He’s not sure where he’s going except away. If he can get to a port, he’s sure he can fly a ship. 

Another flash of white Imperial helmets send him careening in another direction which leads him into a square. The sudden exposure leaves him disoriented and he spins around looking for another exit as a child is ushered into one house and shutters are slammed shut. Wylan gulps. He walks back and turns, running into someone for the second time. This time the person rocks as he crashes into them, but Wylan’s still the one wheeling back. 

He blinks at the man, carrying some sort of stick. He looks like he could belong here except that his eyes are too intent. It’s the kind of gaze you couldn’t stand for too long but are also scared to look away from. It takes him a second to notice the tiny girl at his side. She’s looking around, causally flipping a blade in her hand. The other rests on a blaster. Now that he realized that, Wylan notices the man is also armed. 

“Wylan Van Eck?” The man asks. 

Wylan blinks at him in shock. He’s helpless to do anything but nod. They’re not Empire and they don’t look like the Khergud who grabbed him, so they can’t be that bad. Or at least are likely better than the alternative.  

“Right. Time to be off. Let Jesper know we’ve got the package.” The man turns abruptly. 

Wylan glances at the girl who steps aside and gestures at him to follow. He hasn’t decided if he will when there are footsteps behind him. He twists back to see who’s following and breathes a little easier when the monks appear. Maybe monks are better than whoever the man is.  

Maybe he’s dead anyway. 

“Oh good. You’re here.” The man says. “We can all go then.” 

Nina smirks from where she’s bent over catching her breath. “Nice to see you too, Kaz. Been ages.” 

...

It’s convenient that they were able to find the pilot and Nina in one place. He would have trouble getting Inej and Jesper out of here with just the pilot. They’d had no communication with Nina, no way to get in contact with her once they were in the atmosphere. Kaz takes it in stride and moves back the way they came. The rest will follow and someone will make sure the pilot comes along with them. 

It would have been a fantastic escape. In and out with no trouble whatsoever. It would have been too lucky for him, so the storm troopers that come streaming racing around the corner where Nina and her friend emerged are hardly a surprise. The real unlucky bit is that they also appear in the two other access points to the square. 

The pilot looks ready to bolt. Nina and the second monk steps forward. Kaz respects the bulk of him and hopes that he’s good in a fight. If it were just him and Inej, they would split up and meet at the rendez-vous. The pilot is going to be the issue. 

“Halt. Surrender or you will be terminated.” 

Inej pushes Wylan behind her and toward Kaz. The boy curls in on himself. How he ever got up the courage to desert the Empire, Kaz hasn’t a clue. Now they just need to get him out of here with whatever valuable knowledge is worth breaking the standoff with the Shu. 

Kaz pushes him into a doorway, out of sight of the blasters. “Stay down.” 

The boy whimpers. 

Nina steps forward, hands raised in a deceptively helpless gesture. “Calm down. We’re all friends here.” 

“Stand down or we will open fire,” the trooper repeats. The entire line readies their weapons. Their blasters might be unreliable and clunky, but with so many firing, they’re bound to hit something. 

“You don’t want to shoot us.” Nina tries again. 

“That’s what you’ve got?” the second monk asks incredulously. 

She glares at him. Kaz watches Inej palm a blade and twirl it effortlessly in one hand. The harsh sunlight glints off the edge of the blade: steel instead of a laser edge many prefer. He knows she likes the way the old fashioned blades feel in her hand. They look like they belong in her grasp. 

Nina steps forward again, closer and closer to the troopers. “You’re not going to shoot us.” 

“Hand over the pilot.” The trooper says. From across the square, Kaz can hear the gun prep to fire. This isn’t working. 

“Yeah. That’s not going to happen,” he drawls from the back of the group. The second monk glares at him, but Kaz just twirls his kane, unbothered. It was going to come down to this anyway. There’s no point holding it off as more backup and fire power arrives to support the troopers. 

Shadows fall across the square and Kaz gets his first look at the notorious Khergud soldiers who have kept Jedha independent for the last two years. “Imperial Troopers. You have no authority in our city. The pilot is ours.” 

Nina, her monk, and Inej grow tense at the new party. Beside him the pilot starts to mutter under his breath, rocking back and forth. 

This actually works to their advantage as the troopers are forced to divert their attention. The Khergud fires directly at the troopers before jumping into the air. The troopers open fire, most on the Khergud, judging them to be the bigger threat. 

Inej seizes the moment to dive forward into the fight, taking out two opponents in moments before she’s engaged by one of the Shu soldiers. She moves like an acrobat, twirling through flailing limbs that breeze past her. She’s a force of nature. 

Kaz is distracted from his awe by a guard landing a few feet away and leaping for Wylan. He dispatches the soldier with a few whacks of his cane. He crumples under a well-placed hit to the temple. 

More troopers race toward the noise. They stop around the corner of an alley, firing from their protective spots and forcing the monk and Kaz to step back to cover. They lob a grenade into the square. Kaz takes two steps forward and hits it back with the metal head of his cane. It soars in a perfect arch back to the troopers, who scramble for cover too late. 

The monk nods in acknowledgment and moves to relieve Nina from her two enemies. Inej falls back as she takes out her opponent and the rest are distracted by Nina and the monk. She moves to stand alongside Kaz, stretching out the muscles she just used as she slips her blades back in their many holsters. The explosion rocks the block which takes out one contingent of troopers but they're met with more troopers and Shu, crawling out of the cracks like cockroaches. 

A moment later shots arc over their heads, rapid fire, each one hitting its target and leaving the recipients incapacitated.  

Kaz relaxes infintestimently. He'd been prepared to dive for cover. His hand twitches toward Inej but he knows she can take care of herself. She doesn’t need him trying to tackle her and throwing off her center of balance.  

A figure emerges along the roofline, a rifle resting against his shoulder. “There were an awful lot of explosions for people who were supposed to be blending in.” 

“I hope you’ve got an exit plan, Brekker,” Nina says. She diverts to the Imperial pilot after a glance at the monk. 

He nods and moves for the alley. “This way.” He glances at Inej and up at the roofline. She nods and follows his tacit directions. Kaz leaves her to do what she does best: cover them from the shadows. 

Kaz walks with purpose through the streets. Now that fighting has broken out, it appears that no one is holding back. Shu are fighting stormtroopers, troopers are fighting the Khergud and civilians are running for cover. Jesper’s  and Inej’s shadows move with them. The monk - who Kaz Brekker suspects is the Druskelle Nina mentioned before she went dark - leads the charge, with his long legs that eat up the ground in long strides. Nina covers their escape with a simple bo staff. 

“Where are we going?” The monk asks as he fires off a round of shots. 

“Left!” Jesper shouts as he crashes to the ground on the back of a Khergud soldier. “I don’t know why we ever thought this was going to be a quiet mission. And I still say we need a demolition expert.” 

“We’re spies, Jesper,” Kaz growls over the sound of battle. 

Jesper shoots him a cocky grin over his shoulder. “But this is so much more fun.” 

“There’s something wrong with you,” the monk mutters. 

“Kaz.” 

He looks sideways, unsurprised to find Inej at his shoulder, silent as always. He follows her gaze upwards and nearly stumbles to a stop. “Jedha doesn’t have a moon.” 

Nina and the monk stumble to a stop. Jesper glances up for a moment. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. It appeared out of nowhere. It’s too big to be a ship but moons don’t move.” 

“That’s it,” Wylan whispers. The pilot suddenly jolts into motion. “We have to go. Now!” 

Kaz is forced into an ungainly run. He tries not to notice Inej hovering at his elbow, keeping pace with him as they race toward the ship. The Imperial pilot is ahead of them all, heedless of laser bolts. Jesper yanks him back by the collar to direct him to the correct ship. 

As he reaches the ramp, Kaz starts to hear screams. 

“Jesper, get us out of here!” Kaz yells. Inej hits the control to shut the ramp as Jesper guns the engine. 

“What do you think I’m doing, Brekker? Buckle up. This ride’s about to get bumpy.” 

... 

The whole world has turned upside down. Matthias isn’t sure what he’s doing, to be perfectly honest. Staying with Nina was a mutually beneficial proposition. They were stuck on a foreign planet, where the only people they could trust were each other. He’d become accustomed to their partnership and been shocked by how much he relied upon her. Now, looking at this ragtag group - so different from the ordered discipline of the elite Druskelle guard - Matthias is at a loss for how the Resistance has managed to become a thorn in the Empire’s side. 

He will admit that they were, like Nina, surprisingly capable and effective. However, he can’t hide how scandalized he is by their lack of any sort of recognizable chain of command. The trio moves like his old unit in that they’re so familiar with each other, they don’t need to shout out commands. But their actions of Jedha display an alarming disregard for a cohesive plan and seem to thrive on the chaos of the moment. 

“What was that?!” The boy with the cane asks, turning around to stare at the group before his eyes zero in on the unfortunate pilot. 

Matthias hasn’t gotten much from the boy, except that he stepped back from the fighting yet was clearly capable of surviving physical confrontation. Nina and his two companions seemed to defer to him as some sort of leader, which spoke to a sharp mind. Nina called him Kaz, which would indicate one of the high level members of Rebel Intelligence. He’s heard him referenced as a nightmare or a demon, spoken of in whispers and myths more than anything else. 

All in all: Matthias expected someone older. 

“That was the Death Star,” Wylan whispers. His eyes look haunted. 

Matthias frowns. “Impossible.” He starts when five sets of eyes jerk towards him in the silence of hyperspace. He grits his teeth. The word wasn’t supposed to be spoken out loud. “They’re decades away from creating that technology.” 

Wylan is shaking his head. “No. They found a scientist. Got him to create what they needed. I...I was able to get away. To warn the Rebellion. It’s a planet killer.” 

“A planet killer?” The small girl repeats. 

“Is that even possible?” Nina glances at him for confirmation. Matthias has no answer. It was only an idea when he was with the Druskelle last. Brum used to talk about it, but it was never close to a reality. Not then. 

“Why don’t you ask Jedha?” Kaz says. 

“We don’t know that it destroyed the whole planet,” the small girl points out. 

The boy doesn’t look away from where he stares out the window at the white streaks of stars passing in hyperspace. “At the very least, we know it destroyed the city. If the Empire has a weapon like that, we’re left defenseless.” 

“That’s why I was sent to find you,” Wylan says. He freezes when all eyes turn to him and he curls in on himself from his spot beside the pilot. Matthias has spent years in Imperial bases and has no idea how this pilot managed to get into the program, let alone became important enough to have access to this top secret project. It seems highly suspect to him. 

“Sent?” The boy asks, finally turning so his whole body faces the pilot. Matthias does have to admit he cuts an intimidating figure even as he leans on his cane. 

The pilot swallows. “The scientist. I was supposed to get to a contact they had with the Rebellion. There was someone I was supposed to connect with...the Wraith? But I got redirected…” He frowns. The more the pilot seems to search for words, the harder they seem to come. 

Matthias has seen this before. “He was captured by the Khergud. They most likely probed his mind using Bor Gullet. That’s how they dealt with any Imperial or Rebel spies they found.” He leans back against the steel hull. It actually feels good to be back in space again after being grounded for so long. 

It feels like freedom. 

The boy looks at Nina. She nods in confirmation. “It’s true. We only escaped detection because of the temple.” 

“Because all she would talk about was the Force,” Matthias mutters. He adjusts his muscles so they’re loose and he can react in an instant if needed. Nina drops into the space beside him, using his shoulder as a pillow as she settles in like a cat that can get comfortable anywhere. 

“I saved your life,” she says without opening her eyes. 

He grunts and doesn’t let his smile emerge.  

“The Wraith,” Kaz repeats, focusing on Wylan again. “What were you supposed to tell them?”

Wylan still looks nervous. “Well, I was supposed to pass on...a message...There’s a way to destroy it. A weakness.” 

“A weakness?” 

Wylan yanks at his hair. It’s useless to try to force him to remember more in his state. Matthias watches the trio of rebels to see what they’ll do at this obstacle. 

“He didn’t tell me,” Wylan whispers, clearly realizing this might not endear him to his rescuers at this point. “I was supposed to...bring someone back. They wanted...they wanted someone to rescue them, and they would share the weakness. I was just supposed to be the messenger. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” 

Kaz scowls and glances at the girl who looks at the man in the pilot’s seat, all having some sort of silent conversation. Matthias watches the interaction with interest.  

“Where is this base?” Kaz finally moves closer, crouching so he can look Wylan in the eyes. 

“Eadu.” 

Matthias vaguely recalls the outpost. Far from most of the known universe, it’s one of the Empire’s research bases. There’s not a huge platoon placed there for protection. It’s a secret base, kept out of the way, and by necessity sees few changes in personnel. There were a couple training missions on the planet to diversify the team’s experiences and analyze security procedures. 

“We don’t have anyone on Eadu,” the girl notes. 

“Because Eadu’s on lockdown. Nothing in or out that isn’t high level.” The boy flying the craft throws over his shoulder. “Out of the flight academy, I only stopped there once because they needed a supply run immediately. They didn’t even let me off the shuttle. To be a pilot there, you’d have to have some pretty impressive clearance.” 

Matthias alters his assessment of the crew that got them off Jedha. To get through the Imperial Flight Academy is impressive. The man also demonstrated impressive aim and combat skills. Despite not being highly regimented, they do appear to be a solid team. He glances down at Nina. 

“So in order to get the information on the weakness, we have to go to Eadu,” the girl says. She’s twirling a knife in her hands, one with a true steel blade like he hasn’t seen in ages. Her comfort with it is another mark in their favor. 

“Jesper’s right. It’s impenetrable. We haven’t managed to get anyone on the inside.” Kaz taps his fingers on the head of his cane. 

“So we go.” The girl shrugs. “We redirect. We need to find a way to beat this thing or millions more are going to die.” 

“Procedure is to report for further orders. We’ve got the pilot.” Kaz looks at her with a heavy look. 

“Matthias can help.” Nina elbows him as she speaks up. 

He scowls down at her as everyone turns to stare at him. She didn’t even bother to open her eyes to betray him. 

“I’m not a traitor.” Matthias glares at the lot of them. 

“You’ll help,” Nina says with a self-assuredness he’s come to hate over the last couple of years. Because as irksome as it is, she’s usually right about these things. They both know it. 

“We’re supposed to just trust a stranger on your word?” Jesper asks. 

“Get twisted, Fahey. You know my word is good.” 

Kaz and the woman - whose name Matthias still doesn’t know - have another silent conversation. She turns to look at him, her eyes speculative. Kaz leans closer to her. “You think you can do this?” 

She doesn’t take his eyes from Matthias. Her knives continue the casual twisting in her hand. She shrugs and looks back at the mastermind. “It is our kind of job.” 

Kaz nods. “Jesper, alter course. Van Eck, help get him close without being seen. Matthias, you need to tell us everything you know, and quickly.” 

“Why should I?” 

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to make your life very unpleasant.” 

“How do you even know the pilot is right? How do you know there really is a weakness? This could be a trap.” It sounds like the kind of thing Jarl Brum would think up to capture Rebel spies.

“Faith,” Nina says. “This is the right choice.” She finally sits up and stretches. 

Matthias rolls his eyes at her religious display. He sighs. “I can tell you what I know. It could still be a trap.” 

“The pilot is Wylan Van Eck. He’s on my list of potential informants. He became an Imperial pilot because of familial connections. It’s how he has access to sensitive information. We know they’re working on something on Eadu. If this is what he says, then we need that information.” The girl explains it in an even voice. 

“And if there isn’t a secret weakness?” 

Kaz and Inej exchange a long look.  

“Then we find another way to blow it up,” Jesper supplies. 

Matthias isn’t sure he likes the looks of glee on their faces. 

“So how do we get in?” 

The girl turns to look at Matthias, her dark eyes just the slightest bit terrifying now that he’s actually getting a good chance to size her up. She tends to fade into the background and let her comrades take charge, but definitely is not to be underestimated. He stares at her and then glances at Kaz. 

“Inej is a ghost,” Nina says. “She can get in and out without anyone noticing.” 

He looks her over, still assessing. This moment, more than any in the last two years of surviving, feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff. The last two years he could justify to his superiors: he was surviving a hostile planet, he had to get close to Nina or he would have died, he was trying to learn the secrets of the Rebel scum. This was different. If he does this, he’s helping the Rebel cause. He’s actively going against everything he’s ever learned.

Nina hits him in the shoulder, as if sensing his internal conflict. She twists upright to look at him and raises an eyebrow in challenge. 

He can hear her voice in his head, berating him for his strict no-nonsense rules and his consuming hatred for anything that goes against the order of the Empire. There were countless debates as they marched through Jedha, each an intellectual exercise. He can honestly say that he doesn’t believe the Empire is never wrong, but is that enough to make him give up their secrets? 

“They murdered everyone in Jedha,” she whispers to him softly. “Lin, Mauri, Katya…” She closes her eyes against the pain. 

He wants to wrap her in his arms and pull her close. Nina feels everything so deeply, unable to stop herself from connecting with everyone she meets. He wants to protect from that pain, to comfort her. Those lives lost today. They were innocents. People that should have been protected and instead… 

He opens his eyes and nods his agreement to Nina. 

She grins, life and joy filling her back up as she bounces around in her seat, the way she gets excited whenever they found something reasonably sweet on Jedha. “Matthias meet Inej. Inej, meet Matthais. He’s a little shy but he knows what’s at stake.”

It’s like shedding a piece of armor or throwing off the last vestiges of who he once was. There’s no turning back now, and he has surprisingly little regret as he opens his eyes and asks the first damning question: “Where do you want to start?”

<hr>

Inej barely remembers those early days with her family living in the heart of a city. She gets flashes of memories - playing with dolls, toddling after her father, parties full of boring adults who couldn’t care less about her. What she thinks of when she remembers her family is what came after: the travelling band of performers they joined. It’s there that she felt comfortable. The troupe was her family: they encouraged her, taught her tricks of the trade, and were the ones who trained her as an acrobat. They travelled from system to system, performing in cities and small villages alike, on hot planets and cold. She had careful rules to follow about her interactions whenever they landed. 

Despite all the restrictions, she remembers feeling carefree. The caravan was her domain and she was empress. The day her life changed was just like any other. She remembers her mother running a hand over her hair, whispering that they were going down into town. Her sleepy head full of cotton can’t remember her exact words, just the feeling of warmth, the comfort of routine. Only recently - on her eighth birthday - had she earned the right to sleep in instead of joining her parents’ customary outing.  

Sometimes in her waking hours, she forgets that happened years ago and in her half-waking state she thinks she can still hear her mother’s soothing whisper and her father patting her hand as he tucks her treasured stuffed bear under the blankets of her bed so she has company. 

Inej’s eyes fly open as the harsh lights of simulated daylight jolt her unrelentingly from her sleep into the cold reality of her life. 

She rolls up to a seated position and runs her arm over her sleepy face. She makes no effort to make herself presentable and glares at her arm with the repulsive peacock feather tattoo. It’s been eight years since that morning when her whole life burned around her, her whole extended family vanished in the blink of an eye and she was sold into the slave markets of the Hutts before she was even aware what that meant. 

“Inej Ghafa, the mistress will see you now,” a mechanical voice says over the speaker hidden in her room. Luxurious drapes and curtains cover the mechanical aspects of the room, but can’t hide the prison-like nature of a room without windows in a pleasure house. This has always been Inej’s cage. 

Of course, to the Empire, this isn’t slavery. She has an indenture that she’s working off, this was a choice she made. Inej stands. The words are bullshit. It’s a pretty story told by those who believe themselves to be above such terrible things just because they use different words. Inej is old enough to know what happens in the different rooms of the pleasure house she currently calls home, but still too young to be expected to participate fully. But she knows her days are numbered. 

Girls in this trade grow up quickly. She’s still a tease, only suffering a a groping hand here, a leer there, the occasional bit of voyeurism which makes her skin prickle and means she can never feel comfortable in any room, including her own.

Inej dresses with practiced movements in the ridiculous trappings Madam Helene requires. There are far too many bells on the outfit, too many dangling bits that can tangle for it to really be the exotic outfit Helene claims the clients want. She hates the way the silk feels against her skin when it used to mean the soothing comfort of performance attire. 

For now, her role is to just be an ornamentation for the pleasure house, but madame makes sure she knows what could happen the moment she steps a toe out of line. She’s not above selling Inej off before her time, the cost of which would do nothing to lower the exorbitant cost of her supposed indenture.  

Inej keeps her head down and walks quickly to the main room. In the early hours, there are few patrons who might be looking for a companion, but Inej has learned to keep her head down in any case. She’s short and skinny - underdeveloped to most tastes - so aren’t many interested in her and the ones that are she should avoid with even more care.  

There’s a boy in the room with Helene: a boy with a familiar cane. Inej is so surprised to see him that she forgets to look away meekly when his dark eyes meet hers. She tilts her head in curiosity. Last she saw, he was slipping out of a back hallway which she knew allowed Helene to eavesdrop on clients as they spent the night with girls, or that she offered to well-paying customers who took pleasure from that sort of thing. 

He looks just as cold as he did that night, but she vividly remembers the surprise in his eyes when she spoke from over his shoulder. He wasn’t a regular customer at the brothel but he was on good terms with a couple members of the staff and she’d seen him exchange kruge for information on more than one occasion. Last she saw him, she’d offered him help. 

“Ah, there’s my little Suli Lioness.” Madam Helene smiles benevolently, but her perfume chokes Inej as she wraps an arm around her. “Inej, do you know who this is?” 

“They call him Dirtyhands,” she answers, voice proper and meek as Helene likes. All the other girls have told her not to ask questions any time she tries to find out more. She can’t help but wonder if offering herself to him was a mistake, but she knows this place will kill her if she doesn’t find a way out. 

“Hmm…,” Madame hums. She turns to the boy with a set face and Inej’s chest tightens in apprehension. “I’m afraid your offer will not be accepted, Mr. Brekker. Inej is precious to me.” Her bejeweled fingers dig into Inej’s shoulder. “I couldn’t possibly part with her.” 

The boy raises an impeccable eyebrow. “I was under the impression our negotiations were finalized.” 

Helene releases an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, you silly boy. Did you know the Empire has offered quite the reward for you?” 

Inej tenses. She knows that Madame is fickle in her alliances, but she’s never openly invited storm troopers into her house: they don’t pay well. 

“You’d better run, little boy, if you want to get out of here before they can grab you.” 

Two doors into the main room slide open with a whoosh of air to reveal armored bodies with blasters levelled at the boy. Inej’s quick eyes note that the door closest to Brekker has no guard, instead being left clear if he wants to escape. If she were him, she would be running but instead he looks bored as he stares back at Madame. He lifts his wrist to check his time piece, an old fashioned analog device that hasn’t been used in decades. 

There’s a pulse of static followed by a volley of blaster shots. Inej jerks down out of the way but is shocked to see that none of the shots were aimed at them. 

“You should have taken the money, Helene,” the boy shaking space dust from his jacket. “We could have continued this lucrative partnership.” 

Madame pales and looks around at the rumpled crew of men who are all standing around. Most have holstered their guns, but a tall dark-skinned man walks up to them and gestures Helene back away from Inej. Madame drops her grip as if she can’t get her distance fast enough. She turns to the boy. 

“Please! You have to understand, the troopers would have killed me if I didn’t.” 

The boy looks at her impassively before shrugging. “Per Haskell is still willing to buy out her indenture. I’m sure we can agree on a more reasonable price.” 

Inej snorts. She can’t help it. They’re literally haggling over the price of her indenture after not killing one another. Frankly, it’s ridiculous. The boy looks over at her. Although his face is a mask which reveals no secrets, Inej sees a hint of amusement lurking in his dark eyes before he focuses again on Madame Helene. 

“Congratulations,” the dark-skinned man who shooed Madame Helene away says, leaning down to her, even as his eyes stay on the boy and madam. “You’re being rescued.” 

She looks around at the rag tag group she’s now willing to bet are Rebellion spies and wonders if this will actually be any better. Beyond them, she spots a couple of Helene’s girls with their bloodshot eyes, thin skin and haunted looks. It’s enough to remind her that is it. This is what she wants: a chance to save her father and get revenge on the Empire which has caused her so much pain. 

Inej straightens as much as she can. It looks like she’s joining the rebellion. 

<hr> 

Three years later… 

“You ever wonder if Kaz is actually a demon?” Jesper asks speculatively. He points his blaster to the sky and stares down the barrel. It’s in the best possible order he can make it. The sights are calibrated, the lazer refined and the trigger pull smooth. He couldn’t ask for a better weapon. 

Other than it’s partner, which is still in his holster and also freshly taken care of. 

“You’re supposed to be watching his back, Jesper,” the Wraith’s voice reminds him, tinged with annoyance. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, rolling over so he can look over the side of the building to where Kaz is meeting with his contact. “You know, I’m still not sure why all three of us need to be here for one pilot.” 

“If you want, we can always switch positions,” Inej offers. “You can play get-away pilot.” 

Jesper snorts as he lines up his sight again. “Yeah, right. That’s all yours, spider. Besides we needed the sniper position here, remember?” 

There’s a long suffering sigh over the radio and Jesper grins. Through the scope his eyes bounce to Kaz. He can’t see his face, but Jesper knows he’s got that stone face of annoyance, which, as it turns out, is not so different from his normal ambivalent face except that it includes the slight twitching of the vein at his temple. 

Inej claims he’s seeing things, that it’s all in Jesper’s head. According to her, Kaz’s tell has to do with his eyes or some other sappy thing like that because they’re both secretly in love with each other. Jesper thinks they’re both idiots and he likes to think that one day, if he makes a bad enough joke or an inappropriate enough comment, that vein on Kaz’s temple is going to burst. 

He thinks it's good to have goals like that. It makes the dirty work they do for the Rebellion more palatable. 

“I still think it would be better to have me on the ground,” Inej grumbles. “You know I’m no good at the piloting stuff.” 

“You’re the one who wanted to come. If I recall, Per Haskell offered you leave and instead you came here.” Jesper notices the stiffening of Kaz’s shoulders. His informant is still calm, if a little jumpy-looking, so he knows that’s not the source of the tension. His eyes scan the street and see nothing alarming. 

Jesper hasn’t asked but he knows there’s something going on here that they’re not sharing. Inej has been wound tight since they started to hear rumors of an Imperial weapon strong enough to take out a planet. While it was still just a rumor, Kaz and Inej were chasing the thread down with a vengeance. It’s what brought them back to this city world where they had found Inej three years ago. 

Now if only his sneaky little cohorts would share the secret with him. That would be great. 

Jesper grumbles to himself. Like that would ever happen. He looks through the scope of his rifle. The tell tale of white of stormtrooper armor catches his eye and Jesper focuses on the location. The odd trooper presence in a city like this isn’t necessarily something to make note of. It happens on occasion, but this is a pair and he can spot another pair making their way in what looks to his eyes like search patterns. 

“Heads up, Kaz. We might have company.” Jesper says as he keeps an eye on the soldiers. “Moving in pairs. Looks like a search pattern.” 

They’re too far away to hear the words that are spoken, but Jesper can guess what it is from here: “Hey! You there!” 

He watches as Kaz drags their contact into an alley as the storm troopers converge from two directions. 

“I’ve lost sight of you, Kaz.” Jesper sights the troopers through his scope and taps a finger against the trigger. Killing troopers brings more attention than Kaz likes. They work in secret. “Exit strategy?” 

Through Kaz’s comm he hears the panicked pleas of Kaz’s contact swiftly silenced by a laser bolt. He grimaces at the additional body count as Kaz’s gravelly voice comes over the comm. 

“I’ve got it. Jesper, join Inej. Meet me at the rendezvous point.” 

He takes one last look at the troopers closing in on the alley and then stands. If Kaz needed help, he would ask. The man had a thousand and one plans. There’s no way he didn’t account for a way out of this trap. It sounds like he’s probably climbing, a feat considering his bum leg from when he landed on it wrong a couple years back and it never healed properly.  

“You know, for once I’d like one of these missions to go smoothly,” Jesper mutters under his breath as he hightails it back to the ship. He stows his blaster and keeps it from sight as he moves through the crowds. Seedy cities have been a second home to him for years, since he left the Imperial flight academy, if he’s being honest. He liked the anonymity the city gave him. It always felt better than the emptiness of the moisture farm he grew up on. He hates the heat and the sand. 

Oh, God, the sand. 

He walks aboard the ship with the swagger of a drunk who won big at the betting table. He nods jovially to those he passes. There are a couple glances down to the pistols at his waist, but that’s normal on a large port like this one. Intergalactic travel to major cities has always been fraught with trouble and this one isn’t especially savory. They don’t have the clearance for savory. 

Inej sits on the ramp of the ship, sprawled out across it like a cat. She opens her eyes as he arrives and stretches. “Ready to go?” 

“Shouldn’t the get away pilot be ready to run?” Jesper teases as they walk up into the ship and Inej diverts to the cockpit, starting the take off procedure. 

“I spent the last hour bemoaning my terrible coworker who insists on gambling at each port and always staggers back drunk, occasionally with unexpected company. I’ve already got tower clearance to leave. And taking off won’t set any red flags with the Empire so we’re clear.” 

Jesper drops into the copilot chair as Inej goes through engine checks. “You did all that?” 

“You’re not the only one capable of sweet talking people, Fahey.” She shoots him a look and he chuckles. 

“I remember when your first attempt to blend in. Didn’t you end up stabbing someone?” 

Inej scowls at the memory. “And no one has tried to grab my body since then without a threat of a knife point.” 

Jesper chuckles. “Fair enough.” He shifts as they fly high enough to leave the atmosphere and then drop back down, drifting through the carefully mapped out empty space of blind spots that allow them to drift down to the meeting point. Despite it taking them almost no time to get there, Kaz is already sitting against a crate on the roof of a run down building, cane held out in front of him with his hands crossed on top. 

Jesper moves back toward the loading bay and opens the doors. He leans against the side of the doorway as the ship turns to face Kaz. “Hiya, honey. Miss me?” 

As always Kaz rolls his eyes at Jesper’s attitude as he climbs the ramp. “We’re clean. Any trouble at the port?” 

“Nope,” Inej reports from the cockpit. “Just a couple nosy traders looking for a good time. Sent them after Jesper.” 

“Har har,” he shoots back as the ramp closes with a firm whoosh of pressure stabilizing. He turns to Kaz who has dropped onto the bench and closed his eyes. His lame foot is extended slightly in front of him, a tell that it’s aching from the exercise of escaping the troopers. Jesper can also see where his blaster sticks out from under his jacket, the clip of the holster no longer in place. He definitely used it. “Did you get the intel?” 

Kaz nods. 

“Where are we headed?” Inej asks. From the body of the shuttle, Jesper sees her hand hover over the hyperspeed settings, preparing to change the destination of their jump. 

“The pilot is on Jedha.” 

They both freeze and you could hear a pin drop in the shuttle. Jesper glances at Inej and sees the same worry painted in the lines of her face. “Are you sure?” 

Kaz finally opens his eyes and leans forward. “It’s been confirmed. That’s the second source and this one claims to have actually seen the pilot.” 

“But he’s a defector, why would he go there?” Jesper asks. 

“Jedha’s not a stronghold for the Empire, but they do trade there.” Kaz answers, as if that explains the reasoning. 

“But it’s a Shu stronghold. They’re cut off. We haven’t had contact in years.” Jesper glances at Inej in the cockpit. “Nina was there when the communications shut down. She wasn’t able to get out and no one’s been able to go in.” 

Kaz rams a gloved hand over the top of his cane. “That isn’t strictly true.” 

Inej whips around. “What?” 

He sighs. “We have a way onto the planet. The problem will be finding the defector and getting him to talk to us.” 

“And getting off planet again,” Jesper cuts in. “Or have you forgotten how the Shu seize whoever and whatever they want? There’s a reason we don’t have an outpost there.” 

Kaz stares at him with those cold, blank eyes and then turns toward Inej. “Set the course.” 

For a long moment, Inej doesn’t move. Her fingers tap against the control as she gazes at Kaz with an inscrutable expression on her face for a moment before she turns back to the controls and the ship lurches into hyperspace. 

Jesper crosses his arms as he faces Kaz from across the ship. “You knew we were headed to Jedha.” 

Kaz stares back at him for a moment and then closes his eyes. He leans back against the side of the ship. Jesper wishes he was surprised about the lack of communication. 

He sits down next to Kaz. “This way on to Jedha...does it have anything to do with Nina?” 

Kaz cracks open an eye. He looks Jesper over and shuts them again. “She was able to get one message out since the Shu shut down. The last message that got out - the one that opened a path - the agent was lost. Haven’t heard anything since.” 

“Nina?” 

“Under orders to lay low.” 

“Are we taking her out with us?” 

Kaz’s hands tighten on the head of his cane. “We’ll see.” 

<hr> 

There was something happening. Nina looks around the marketplace covertly as she examines the fruit in the stall in front of her. It’s the same bland, slightly bruised fruit that they always have. Two years on this desert planet and she’s still not used to the blandness of the food. She’s missing the lush variety of Aldaraan and the sweets she used to eat by the bushel. There’s no sweets here in Jedha, especially not in the mostly abandoned temple. 

She exchanges a coin for two shrivelled pieces of fruit and a smile with the vendor. She slips off the main thoroughfare and into the archway that leads into the dilapidated temple. Like most of Jedha, it’s covered in a fine layer of sand and dust, and shows the wear and tear of years of war. 

She tosses a piece of fruit to the tall and skulking shadow that leans against the archway. Matthias catches the fruit of the air. He pulls a wickedly long knife from behind his back and cuts the fruit into meticulous pieces, eating with precise movements to stop the juice from creating a sticky mess. 

Nina is far less careful. She bites into the fruit and does her best to stop the overripe fruit from spilling juice down her chin. It’s a messy process and her fingers will end up coated in sugary sweetness. It’s her little act of rebellion that makes Matthias shake his head in her direction, when his eyes aren’t sweeping the plaza. 

“There’s something in the wind,” he says as he slowly eats another slice of his fruit. Nina’s is almost gone. She’s sad for that. 

“Rumors.” Nina glances at the gangsters on the corner of the street with their strange metal suits. They’re looking antsy, searching the street. “There’s not much chatter. Something about an Imperial pilot. Broke through the Shu blockade.” 

Matthias’s eyes drift back across the crowds of people. Nina rearranges her robe and leans against her staff. Two years posing as acolytes of the temple and proselytizing about Sankts has her accustomed to her character. No one bothers with a monk spouting ideas of an old religion they no longer believe in. 

“The Empire is still confined to their kyber shipments,” Matthias observes. He casually cuts the seeds from his fruit. “Their shuttle routes haven’t been altered. The Shu though.” His eyes dart to their locations around the square. “They’re looking for someone.” 

“A defector,” Nina says. 

Matthias finally looks over at her in surprise. “Yours or mine?” 

“Does it matter?” she asks. “Either way, we need to find them before anyone else.” 

“Do we?” Matthias grumbles and slips his knife back into the sheath hidden somewhere on his person. “It’s not like anyone’s come to get us in the last two years.” 

Nina rolls her eyes. They’ve had this argument before. “Come now, druskelle. Where’s that attitude of dedication to the Empire?” 

He snorts. “It died two years ago.” One of the Shu guards moves and Matthias’s attention strays. “Think it’s important enough that they’ll risk their peace with the Shu?” 

Beneath the question is the unspoken one that neither of them have put words to, but they both know is lingering in the back of their minds: Is this defector more important than they are? Nina’s last mission was to get a contact off Jedha to the Rebellion. Matthias had saved her from capture by the Shu and they hadn’t been able to risk an attempt to leave Jedha since then. The Empire had some sort of deal with the Shu that allowed them access to the Kyber mines but that was it. 

“Perhaps it’s time we went to collect tithes, Brother Helvar,” Nina announces. She pulls up the hood of her robes and leans on her staff as she walks out from the temple. Matthias follows behind her with grumbled complaints under his breath. The occupants of the city are familiar with their dynamic, although they’re sure to vary the times they depart the temple. Routines are too predictable. 

Matthias doesn’t speak even as Nina stops to talk with every friendly face she sees. For the first year, he had complained at every moment, even as she explained to him the importance of blending in, of becoming part of the populace. Now he even lets the children climb on him when she stops to share a story about the saints. 

“They’re jumpy,” Lin shares with Nina in whispered tones, her eyes darting around the square even though there don’t appear to be guards around right now. “Jan said he saw stormtroopers preparing to enter the city.” 

Nina performs a blessing on an elderly man. “Any idea what they’re looking for?” 

“A pilot.” Lin shifts her daughter around on her hip. “Imperial pilot. You don’t want to get between the troopers and their goal. The Shu are looking for him too. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of their way.” 

Matthias moves closer. “And the pilot?” 

Lin glances at him and then back at Nina. She’s always been more skittish around men. It’s a look Nina’s uncomfortably familiar with and one she knows speaks to a violent past interaction. The way she grips her daughter just a bit closer breaks Nina’s heart. 

Nina nods encouragingly. 

“Down by the old refractory.” Lin freezes up as soon as the words escape her mouth. Her eyes widen in surprise at what she just divulged. She darts away in a panic, leaving Nina and Matthias to continue to serve the poor with their usual tithes. 

By unspoken agreement, Matthias follows Nina’s lead as she takes them on a winding path. The last year and half of long meandering routes work in their favor as Nina leads them with more purpose. 

It feels good to have a purpose again. She hasn’t had contact with the Rebellion, but if this is big enough that the Empire is willing to fight the Shu for the interloper, then it’s big enough for the Rebellion to also be looking. The Empire has the strength to use brute force. The Rebellion will send Kaz Brekker. Per Haskell would be an idiot to send anyone else. 

As they get closer to their destination, Nina slows her pace and purposefully plays up her monk persona, passing out alms and blessings in equal measure. Matthias moves gruffly in her wake, watching her back in a way that might be suspicious if it hadn’t been his stable characteristic for the last two years. The Shu are used to their dynamic of the devout believer jaded sceptic. They had adopted the personas for safe passage before the Shu blockade and been forced to maintain it since then. 

It was useful, despite neither Nina nor Matthias being well versed in espionage. 

By the time they reach the old refractory buildings, Nina and Matthias are moving at a crawl, speaking to every person they see. Nina’s eyes scan the faces for one that looks out of place, one that screams uncertainty or distrust. 

She gets pointed down a dark alley by one of the urchins after she shares with him one of her precious jojo beans. It’s the closest she can get to her sweets in this city. She glances at Matthias and he nods. His body is intentionally relaxed, ready to move as necessary in response to a threat. 

Nina leads the way into the factory, looking around carefully as they move into the space. She breathes in deeply and sinks into the meditative state. The air around her settles, buzzing with the life force of the inhabitants of the city. In a couple of breaths, she narrows it further so she can feel the interior of the building. 

Matthias mutters under his breath, something about religious mumbo jumbo and insanity. 

Nina turns sideways and opens one eye to glare at Matthias. He rolls his eyes and gestures at her to continue.  

Her use of the Force is unrefined, based more in the faith that it will work than on actual knowledge about what she’s doing. It’s an old religion and the order they’re with is still respected even if not believed in. Okay, so maybe respected is pushing it. They’re disregarded as religious fanatics who don’t do much of anything. 

She follows the light of the Force through the factory, letting it guide her feet, trusting it to protect her from bumping into any of the clutter. Dimly, she senses Matthias grunt as he moves something out of her path before she hits it or it hits her. She keeps her focus on the life signature that shines like a beacon, coming to a stop once they’re in sight of the huddled mass. She opens her eyes and peers into the gloom. 

“We’re here to help you,” Nina says. Her soft voice carries around the large space. She ignores Matthias’s mutter about talking to herself. 

“Who...who are you?” A tremulous voice asks. It sounds younger than Nina expected, more uncertain. She thought a defector would be more hardened, more convinced of their path to go against the Empire in such a way. 

Nina squats down to look at the hunched over figure. Matthias has one hand hovering over his hidden firearm, the other on a dagger. She’s deep in her meditation of the Force and senses no danger from the huddled figure. 

“You’re the pilot, right?” Nina asks instead of answering. 

His eyes look her over, lingering on her and Matthias’s matching robes. “You’re priests?” 

He inches forward. There’s enough light cast on him that his Imperial uniform catches her eye, answering the question he avoids. She smiles softly at him and holds out her hand. Behind her Matthias shifts, disliking her proximity to perceived danger, if she has to guess. 

“Word on the street is you’re a defector. We’re here to help.”  

<hr> 

Wylan doesn't think he's ever been this cold in his life. Which is bizarre because this is a desert planet. You'd think it would be warm but instead he's found himself huddled in dark corners, scavenging like a rat for scraps for the last couple days while he tries to escape notice from the Shu. Jedha was supposed to be a safe haven for him, somewhere the Empire couldn't touch. The Shu had tried to grab him first, had detained him and demanded answers to their questions about the Empire. His protests that he wanted to defect fell on deaf ears. Then they'd dragged him into a cave with a beast they called Bor Gullet. 

It's a blur after that. 

He remembers waking in a cell to garbled words, a blurred hologram of his father glaring disdainfully down at him. A comment about the Empire being grateful to the Shu. Wylan doesn't know how he escaped. There's a memory of loud noise, a flash of heat, and dirt. Then it's all dark and cold. 

He'd avoided people after that, stuck to shadows, and only ventured out when the emptiness of his stomach threatened to eat him from the inside out. 

He doesn't even know how long it's been since he escaped the cell...or was released...he doesn't know. 

Then the woman appeared, like an angel out of the darkness and she promises salvation. 

Wylan knows enough of his father's games not to immediately trust the gesture. "Who are you?"  

“We’re with the Rebellion,” she says with a smile. 

The monk behind her rolls his eyes and turns away. They don’t look like any monks he recognises. The only person he’s heard of who truly follows the old religion is the Darkling and Wylan’s not so unfortunate to have ever seen him in person. “You don’t look like Rebels.” 

“He’s right. We don’t,” the man tells her. 

The woman looks over her shoulder, eyes narrowed in a glare. “Matthias Helvar.” She turns conspiratorially back to Wylan and there’s a friendly glint in her eye that makes him want to trust her. “Once he was the most devout of you all. Rose through the ranks of the Empire almost as high as they come. You want out of the Empire. We can help.” 

Wylan’s eyes drift over the man’s features and there’s something that reminds him of the way General Brum’s men carry themselves, the elite of the troopers he’s only seen from a distance. Wylan wants to string words together but they slip away like soap and water. 

“Will you come with us?” She prompts, yet again. 

He can’t combine the fears and hopes and questions into coherent sense. All he can do is nod in agreement. Whether they harm him or save him, he’ll be dead or caught if he stays here on his own. He needs allies and he’s not in a mental state where he can do much of anything himself. 

“Good,” she says. She pulls him forward and manhandles Wylan into a monk’s robe over his tattered pilot’s uniform. “I’m Nina. This is Matthias. We’re going to get you out of here alive. Good?” 

Wylan nods. She shoves a basket into his hands and drops additional bits of clutter from the warehouse floor into it. 

“We should be heading back,” Matthias rumbles. 

“Walk between us,” Nina instructs, pulling the hood of his robe up. Matthias mimics the movement. “Don’t make eye contact. Don’t talk to anyone. Just stay in step with us. We’ll speak for you if it comes to that.” 

Wylan has enough sense to nod along. He knows talking will only give away his current state of complete confusion. He can see the looks Nina and Matthias exchange in response to his silence. He’s not so lost that he doesn’t understand what’s going on but the thoughts take too long to reach his lips and disappear like fragrance on a breeze. 

The ground is dusty and uneven under Wylan’s feet. It captures his attention as he walks, so different from the metal hallways and corridors he’s used to walking.  His feet catch from where they scrape the ground and he tries to tell his body to lift his feet higher, but they don’t seem willing to respond any more than what they do by instinct. When was the last time he walked on anything that wasn’t steel? 

He’s so preoccupied by swirls of dirt that he walks right into a wall. 

Well, not a wall, but the giant monk - Matthias. He bounces off the man’s back, which feels like the equivalent of walking into a wall. The man doesn’t even move in response to him walking into him at full speed, but Wylan almost falls on his butt, and would if it wasn’t for Nina catching him. 

She steps past him to stand next to Matthias. She pushes him further into the shadows behind Matthias as she looks past him to see what’s grabbed his attention. Wylan shuffles sideways and ducks down so he can look around the hulking figures. 

The white helmets break through his current haze and Wylan stumbles backwards. The Storm Troopers followed him. He can’t allow himself to be captured, not after he finally escaped that place and his father’s restrictive control. 

“Wait!” Nina whispers harshly, but Wylan’s body is moving without his consent. The urge to get away is too strong. It drives him, haltingly, step-after-step through twisting and confusing alleyways. He’s not sure where he’s going except away. If he can get to a port, he’s sure he can fly a ship. 

Another flash of white Imperial helmets send him careening in another direction which leads him into a square. The sudden exposure leaves him disoriented and he spins around looking for another exit as a child is ushered into one house and shutters are slammed shut. Wylan gulps. He walks back and turns, running into someone for the second time. This time the person rocks as he crashes into them, but Wylan’s still the one wheeling back. 

He blinks at the man, carrying some sort of stick. He looks like he could belong here except that his eyes are too intent. It’s the kind of gaze you couldn’t stand for too long but are also scared to look away from. It takes him a second to notice the tiny girl at his side. She’s looking around, causally flipping a blade in her hand. The other rests on a blaster. Now that he realized that, Wylan notices the man is also armed. 

“Wylan Van Eck?” The man asks. 

Wylan blinks at him in shock. He’s helpless to do anything but nod. They’re not Empire and they don’t look like the Khergud who grabbed him, so they can’t be that bad. Or at least are likely better than the alternative.  

“Right. Time to be off. Let Jesper know we’ve got the package.” The man turns abruptly. 

Wylan glances at the girl who steps aside and gestures at him to follow. He hasn’t decided if he will when there are footsteps behind him. He twists back to see who’s following and breathes a little easier when the monks appear. Maybe monks are better than whoever the man is.  

Maybe he’s dead anyway. 

“Oh good. You’re here.” The man says. “We can all go then.” 

Nina smirks from where she’s bent over catching her breath. “Nice to see you too, Kaz. Been ages.” 

<hr> 

It’s convenient that they were able to find the pilot and Nina in one place. He would have trouble getting Inej and Jesper out of here with just the pilot. They’d had no communication with Nina, no way to get in contact with her once they were in the atmosphere. Kaz takes it in stride and moves back the way they came. The rest will follow and someone will make sure the pilot comes along with them. 

It would have been a fantastic escape. In and out with no trouble whatsoever. It would have been too lucky for him, so the storm troopers that come streaming racing around the corner where Nina and her friend emerged are hardly a surprise. The real unlucky bit is that they also appear in the two other access points to the square. 

The pilot looks ready to bolt. Nina and the second monk steps forward. Kaz respects the bulk of him and hopes that he’s good in a fight. If it were just him and Inej, they would split up and meet at the rendez-vous. The pilot is going to be the issue. 

“Halt. Surrender or you will be terminated.” 

Inej pushes Wylan behind her and toward Kaz. The boy curls in on himself. How he ever got up the courage to desert the Empire, Kaz hasn’t a clue. Now they just need to get him out of here with whatever valuable knowledge is worth breaking the standoff with the Shu. 

Kaz pushes him into a doorway, out of sight of the blasters. “Stay down.” 

The boy whimpers. 

Nina steps forward, hands raised in a deceptively helpless gesture. “Calm down. We’re all friends here.” 

“Stand down or we will open fire,” the trooper repeats. The entire line readies their weapons. Their blasters might be unreliable and clunky, but with so many firing, they’re bound to hit something. 

“You don’t want to shoot us.” Nina tries again. 

“That’s what you’ve got?” the second monk asks incredulously. 

She glares at him. Kaz watches Inej palm a blade and twirl it effortlessly in one hand. The harsh sunlight glints off the edge of the blade: steel instead of a laser edge many prefer. He knows she likes the way the old fashioned blades feel in her hand. They look like they belong in her grasp. 

Nina steps forward again, closer and closer to the troopers. “You’re not going to shoot us.” 

“Hand over the pilot.” The trooper says. From across the square, Kaz can hear the gun prep to fire. This isn’t working. 

“Yeah. That’s not going to happen,” he drawls from the back of the group. The second monk glares at him, but Kaz just twirls his kane, unbothered. It was going to come down to this anyway. There’s no point holding it off as more backup and fire power arrives to support the troopers. 

Shadows fall across the square and Kaz gets his first look at the notorious Khergud soldiers who have kept Jedha independent for the last two years. “Imperial Troopers. You have no authority in our city. The pilot is ours.” 

Nina, her monk, and Inej grow tense at the new party. Beside him the pilot starts to mutter under his breath, rocking back and forth. 

This actually works to their advantage as the troopers are forced to divert their attention. The Khergud fires directly at the troopers before jumping into the air. The troopers open fire, most on the Khergud, judging them to be the bigger threat. 

Inej seizes the moment to dive forward into the fight, taking out two opponents in moments before she’s engaged by one of the Shu soldiers. She moves like an acrobat, twirling through flailing limbs that breeze past her. She’s a force of nature. 

Kaz is distracted from his awe by a guard landing a few feet away and leaping for Wylan. He dispatches the soldier with a few whacks of his cane. He crumples under a well-placed hit to the temple. 

More troopers race toward the noise. They stop around the corner of an alley, firing from their protective spots and forcing the monk and Kaz to step back to cover. They lob a grenade into the square. Kaz takes two steps forward and hits it back with the metal head of his cane. It soars in a perfect arch back to the troopers, who scramble for cover too late. 

The monk nods in acknowledgment and moves to relieve Nina from her two enemies. Inej falls back as she takes out her opponent and the rest are distracted by Nina and the monk. She moves to stand alongside Kaz, stretching out the muscles she just used as she slips her blades back in their many holsters. The explosion rocks the block which takes out one contingent of troopers but they're met with more troopers and Shu, crawling out of the cracks like cockroaches. 

A moment later shots arc over their heads, rapid fire, each one hitting its target and leaving the recipients incapacitated.  

Kaz relaxes infintestimently. He'd been prepared to dive for cover. His hand twitches toward Inej but he knows she can take care of herself. She doesn’t need him trying to tackle her and throwing off her center of balance.  

A figure emerges along the roofline, a rifle resting against his shoulder. “There were an awful lot of explosions for people who were supposed to be blending in.” 

“I hope you’ve got an exit plan, Brekker,” Nina says. She diverts to the Imperial pilot after a glance at the monk. 

He nods and moves for the alley. “This way.” He glances at Inej and up at the roofline. She nods and follows his tacit directions. Kaz leaves her to do what she does best: cover them from the shadows. 

Kaz walks with purpose through the streets. Now that fighting has broken out, it appears that no one is holding back. Shu are fighting stormtroopers, troopers are fighting the Khergud and civilians are running for cover. Jesper’s  and Inej’s shadows move with them. The monk - who Kaz Brekker suspects is the Druskelle Nina mentioned before she went dark - leads the charge, with his long legs that eat up the ground in long strides. Nina covers their escape with a simple bo staff. 

“Where are we going?” The monk asks as he fires off a round of shots. 

“Left!” Jesper shouts as he crashes to the ground on the back of a Khergud soldier. “I don’t know why we ever thought this was going to be a quiet mission. And I still say we need a demolition expert.” 

“We’re spies, Jesper,” Kaz growls over the sound of battle. 

Jesper shoots him a cocky grin over his shoulder. “But this is so much more fun.” 

“There’s something wrong with you,” the monk mutters. 

“Kaz.” 

He looks sideways, unsurprised to find Inej at his shoulder, silent as always. He follows her gaze upwards and nearly stumbles to a stop. “Jedha doesn’t have a moon.” 

Nina and the monk stumble to a stop. Jesper glances up for a moment. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. It appeared out of nowhere. It’s too big to be a ship but moons don’t move.” 

“That’s it,” Wylan whispers. The pilot suddenly jolts into motion. “We have to go. Now!” 

Kaz is forced into an ungainly run. He tries not to notice Inej hovering at his elbow, keeping pace with him as they race toward the ship. The Imperial pilot is ahead of them all, heedless of laser bolts. Jesper yanks him back by the collar to direct him to the correct ship. 

As he reaches the ramp, Kaz starts to hear screams. 

“Jesper, get us out of here!” Kaz yells. Inej hits the control to shut the ramp as Jesper guns the engine. 

“What do you think I’m doing, Brekker? Buckle up. This ride’s about to get bumpy.” 

<hr> 

The whole world has turned upside down. Matthias isn’t sure what he’s doing, to be perfectly honest. Staying with Nina was a mutually beneficial proposition. They were stuck on a foreign planet, where the only people they could trust were each other. He’d become accustomed to their partnership and been shocked by how much he relied upon her. Now, looking at this ragtag group - so different from the ordered discipline of the elite Druskelle guard - Matthias is at a loss for how the Resistance has managed to become a thorn in the Empire’s side. 

He will admit that they were, like Nina, surprisingly capable and effective. However, he can’t hide how scandalized he is by their lack of any sort of recognizable chain of command. The trio moves like his old unit in that they’re so familiar with each other, they don’t need to shout out commands. But their actions of Jedha display an alarming disregard for a cohesive plan and seem to thrive on the chaos of the moment. 

“What was that?!” The boy with the cane asks, turning around to stare at the group before his eyes zero in on the unfortunate pilot. 

Matthias hasn’t gotten much from the boy, except that he stepped back from the fighting yet was clearly capable of surviving physical confrontation. Nina and his two companions seemed to defer to him as some sort of leader, which spoke to a sharp mind. Nina called him Kaz, which would indicate one of the high level members of Rebel Intelligence. He’s heard him referenced as a nightmare or a demon, spoken of in whispers and myths more than anything else. 

All in all: Matthias expected someone older. 

“That was the Death Star,” Wylan whispers. His eyes look haunted. 

Matthias frowns. “Impossible.” He starts when five sets of eyes jerk towards him in the silence of hyperspace. He grits his teeth. The word wasn’t supposed to be spoken out loud. “They’re decades away from creating that technology.” 

Wylan is shaking his head. “No. They found a scientist. Got him to create what they needed. I...I was able to get away. To warn the Rebellion. It’s a planet killer.” 

“A planet killer?” The small girl repeats. 

“Is that even possible?” Nina glances at him for confirmation. Matthias has no answer. It was only an idea when he was with the Druskelle last. Brum used to talk about it, but it was never close to a reality. Not then. 

“Why don’t you ask Jedha?” Kaz says. 

“We don’t know that it destroyed the whole planet,” the small girl points out. 

The boy doesn’t look away from where he stares out the window at the white streaks of stars passing in hyperspace. “At the very least, we know it destroyed the city. If the Empire has a weapon like that, we’re left defenseless.” 

“That’s why I was sent to find you,” Wylan says. He freezes when all eyes turn to him and he curls in on himself from his spot beside the pilot. Matthias has spent years in Imperial bases and has no idea how this pilot managed to get into the program, let alone became important enough to have access to this top secret project. It seems highly suspect to him. 

“Sent?” The boy asks, finally turning so his whole body faces the pilot. Matthias does have to admit he cuts an intimidating figure even as he leans on his cane. 

The pilot swallows. “The scientist. I was supposed to get to a contact they had with the Rebellion. There was someone I was supposed to connect with...the Wraith? But I got redirected…” He frowns. The more the pilot seems to search for words, the harder they seem to come. 

Matthias has seen this before. “He was captured by the Khergud. They most likely probed his mind using Bor Gullet. That’s how they dealt with any Imperial or Rebel spies they found.” He leans back against the steel hull. It actually feels good to be back in space again after being grounded for so long. 

It feels like freedom. 

The boy looks at Nina. She nods in confirmation. “It’s true. We only escaped detection because of the temple.” 

“Because all she would talk about was the Force,” Matthias mutters. He adjusts his muscles so they’re loose and he can react in an instant if needed. Nina drops into the space beside him, using his shoulder as a pillow as she settles in like a cat that can get comfortable anywhere. 

“I saved your life,” she says without opening her eyes. 

He grunts and doesn’t let his smile emerge.  

“The Wraith,” Kaz repeats, focusing on Wylan again. “What were you supposed to tell them?”

Wylan still looks nervous. “Well, I was supposed to pass on...a message...There’s a way to destroy it. A weakness.” 

“A weakness?” 

Wylan yanks at his hair. It’s useless to try to force him to remember more in his state. Matthias watches the trio of rebels to see what they’ll do at this obstacle. 

“He didn’t tell me,” Wylan whispers, clearly realizing this might not endear him to his rescuers at this point. “I was supposed to...bring someone back. They wanted...they wanted someone to rescue them, and they would share the weakness. I was just supposed to be the messenger. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” 

Kaz scowls and glances at the girl who looks at the man in the pilot’s seat, all having some sort of silent conversation. Matthias watches the interaction with interest.  

“Where is this base?” Kaz finally moves closer, crouching so he can look Wylan in the eyes. 

“Eadu.” 

Matthias vaguely recalls the outpost. Far from most of the known universe, it’s one of the Empire’s research bases. There’s not a huge platoon placed there for protection. It’s a secret base, kept out of the way, and by necessity sees few changes in personnel. There were a couple training missions on the planet to diversify the team’s experiences and analyze security procedures. 

“We don’t have anyone on Eadu,” the girl notes. 

“Because Eadu’s on lockdown. Nothing in or out that isn’t high level.” The boy flying the craft throws over his shoulder. “Out of the flight academy, I only stopped there once because they needed a supply run immediately. They didn’t even let me off the shuttle. To be a pilot there, you’d have to have some pretty impressive clearance.” 

Matthias alters his assessment of the crew that got them off Jedha. To get through the Imperial Flight Academy is impressive. The man also demonstrated impressive aim and combat skills. Despite not being highly regimented, they do appear to be a solid team. He glances down at Nina. 

“So in order to get the information on the weakness, we have to go to Eadu,” the girl says. She’s twirling a knife in her hands, one with a true steel blade like he hasn’t seen in ages. Her comfort with it is another mark in their favor. 

“Jesper’s right. It’s impenetrable. We haven’t managed to get anyone on the inside.” Kaz taps his fingers on the head of his cane. 

“So we go.” The girl shrugs. “We redirect. We need to find a way to beat this thing or millions more are going to die.” 

“Procedure is to report for further orders. We’ve got the pilot.” Kaz looks at her with a heavy look. 

“Matthias can help.” Nina elbows him as she speaks up. 

He scowls down at her as everyone turns to stare at him. She didn’t even bother to open her eyes to betray him. 

“I’m not a traitor.” Matthias glares at the lot of them. 

“You’ll help,” Nina says with a self-assuredness he’s come to hate over the last couple of years. Because as irksome as it is, she’s usually right about these things. They both know it. 

“We’re supposed to just trust a stranger on your word?” Jesper asks. 

“Get twisted, Fahey. You know my word is good.” 

Kaz and the woman - whose name Matthias still doesn’t know - have another silent conversation. She turns to look at him, her eyes speculative. Kaz leans closer to her. “You think you can do this?” 

She doesn’t take his eyes from Matthias. Her knives continue the casual twisting in her hand. She shrugs and looks back at the mastermind. “It is our kind of job.” 

Kaz nods. “Jesper, alter course. Van Eck, help get him close without being seen. Matthias, you need to tell us everything you know, and quickly.” 

“Why should I?” 

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to make your life very unpleasant.” 

“How do you even know the pilot is right? How do you know there really is a weakness? This could be a trap.” It sounds like the kind of thing Jarl Brum would think up to capture Rebel spies.

“Faith,” Nina says. “This is the right choice.” She finally sits up and stretches. 

Matthias rolls his eyes at her religious display. He sighs. “I can tell you what I know. It could still be a trap.” 

“The pilot is Wylan Van Eck. He’s on my list of potential informants. He became an Imperial pilot because of familial connections. It’s how he has access to sensitive information. We know they’re working on something on Eadu. If this is what he says, then we need that information.” The girl explains it in an even voice. 

“And if there isn’t a secret weakness?” 

Kaz and Inej exchange a long look.  

“Then we find another way to blow it up,” Jesper supplies. 

Matthias isn’t sure he likes the looks of glee on their faces. 

“So how do we get in?” 

The girl turns to look at Matthias, her dark eyes just the slightest bit terrifying now that he’s actually getting a good chance to size her up. She tends to fade into the background and let her comrades take charge, but definitely is not to be underestimated. He stares at her and then glances at Kaz. 

“Inej is a ghost,” Nina says. “She can get in and out without anyone noticing.” 

He looks her over, still assessing. This moment, more than any in the last two years of surviving, feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff. The last two years he could justify to his superiors: he was surviving a hostile planet, he had to get close to Nina or he would have died, he was trying to learn the secrets of the Rebel scum. This was different. If he does this, he’s helping the Rebel cause. He’s actively going against everything he’s ever learned.

Nina hits him in the shoulder, as if sensing his internal conflict. She twists upright to look at him and raises an eyebrow in challenge. 

He can hear her voice in his head, berating him for his strict no-nonsense rules and his consuming hatred for anything that goes against the order of the Empire. There were countless debates as they marched through Jedha, each an intellectual exercise. He can honestly say that he doesn’t believe the Empire is never wrong, but is that enough to make him give up their secrets? 

“They murdered everyone in Jedha,” she whispers to him softly. “Lin, Mauri, Katya…” She closes her eyes against the pain. 

He wants to wrap her in his arms and pull her close. Nina feels everything so deeply, unable to stop herself from connecting with everyone she meets. He wants to protect from that pain, to comfort her. Those lives lost today. They were innocents. People that should have been protected and instead… 

He opens his eyes and nods his agreement to Nina. 

She grins, life and joy filling her back up as she bounces around in her seat, the way she gets excited whenever they found something reasonably sweet on Jedha. “Matthias meet Inej. Inej, meet Matthais. He’s a little shy but he knows what’s at stake.”

It’s like shedding a piece of armor or throwing off the last vestiges of who he once was. There’s no turning back now, and he has surprisingly little regret as he opens his eyes and asks the first damning question: “Where do you want to start?”

... 

Look out for Part II on 9/9!

[shepard-ram]

Greeting everyone this is Ender-anon I am typing this from notepad so apologies if this is riddled with grammer and spelling mistakes but I wanted to get some things out of the wayfirst about your subjects. They will not be dsmp or earthsmp members mainly because I took a look at the Earthsmp member list on the wiki and saw there where 135 names so only the Arctic Empire and Buissness Bay members will be mentioned for sanitys sake the sujects will instead be from a certain story driven tower defence game that I have played since it launced I honestly want to see who can guess the game first,with that out of the way lets get this show on the road. I'm gonna try sending it in parts cause Tumblr won't let me send it all at once.

A day you'll never forget. Part 1

You awoke excited after all you were going with Enciodas to the Artic Empire for reaffirm trade agreement,ok you knew that it would be your regent Enciodas making the deals while you and Tenzin stayed in the royal gardens since you were only there for formalities sake since as you were the future ruler but it would be both your first time leaving your home country and your first time on a plane. You did need to one of your neighbours in order to get a plane as your country didn't have any airfields but it would be worth it to fly for the first time .You hurried to pack a book and toy to keep yourself occupied while the grownups did their boring grownup talk ( though if the look in your regents eyes when he looked over the trade agreement draft it would be anything but boring) the book was a simple collection of local legend of your country from the Pegasian Knight sisters who saved the country when enemys surronded it to one of the oldest the legend of the founder of your dynasty their name had been lost through the centuries so they were known by only as a human doctor who mannaged to unite the fractured hybrid tribes into a mighty nation in order to repel the tides of an enemy empire who name was also lost to time, the doll was therefore of your dynastys founder or well what your people though they looked live as no detail of their appernce or even gender remained only the knowledge of the black hooded coat emblazoned with your nations symbol and the black helmet like mask that they never seemed to remove. The trip to the airport was uneventful other than General Buldrokkas'tee trying to conivince Enciodas to take one of the Armourless Union as your guard while your regents youngest sister Ensia stuffed you coats pockets with candy for the trip.Unfortunately the crew of the plane wouldn't allow Tenzin to fly around the cabin so rather than cage him you held the falcon for the entirety of the trip though your regent took him off you when he saw you starting to driff off at the halfway mark.You awoke to your regent softly shaking you awake making sure to hold his hand as you gazed around awestruck at the size of it all there were more people than you have ever seen and the palace itself looked to your eyes anyway to be almost as big as your capital. After entering the palace your regent made sure to take you and Tenzin to the expansive gardens before going to meet Emperor Philza, the falcone immediately took off for one of the many trees eager to spreed his wings after staying still so long you by contrast sat beneath the tree Tenzin had chosen about to pratice reading to your doll when you heard a child sobing.

Part 2

Alarmed you sought the source of the noise only to find a child not much younger than yourself in high quality cloths ( the child of a courteir you reasioned )looking up at a toy stuck in the large tree and crying, determined to assist him you took off you coat and circlet and set about climing the tree like Ensia taught you. After a few attemps you managed to reach the toy and retrieved it handing it over to the awestuck child (had he never see someone clime a tree before?) after snapping out of his stupor looking over the toy with worry before going "its broken" and starting to sob again. Quickly thinking you offered to play tag that caused the sobbing to stop he quickly tapped you before turing to run yelling over his shoulder "YOUR IT". After running around the garden for a while the child got tired so you offered to read to him to which he gleefully accepted reading tales of your country from you book,Tenzin deciding that he wanted attention swooped down next to you for pets which you gladly gave the child ( who you still didn't know the name of) looked like he wanted to pet him as well so you asked him if he would like to,he seemed estatic to do so. As the sun started to set and you started sharing the candy Ensia gave you it only just occured to you that you didn't know your new friends name upon asking you were met with a bewildered look and after a few seconds passed he said "you can call me Tommy" after saying the name a few times to make sure you were pronouncing it right, Tenzin quickly swooped off towards a door where Enciodas emerged a grin on his face and a look of victory in his eyes ( you guess talks went well) and informed you that it was time to leave as you went to turn and say goodbye to your new friend he grasped you arm in a tight grip and asked "Why do you need to leave? Can't you stay longer?" after getting your arm free you placed your doll into his hands and informed him that you would most centainly come here again,that you would write to him and that he could have your doll as a gift of friendship.As you saw him grasping the doll close to his chest waving goodbye as a man with wings looked on in amusement that turned to surprise as you yelled your goodbyes as your plane took off, after such a exciting day its no wonder you fell asleep before long but before you did you thought to yourself that this would be a day you never forgot.

Part 3

The best day of his life

Tommy was bored his brothers where in their lessions, Tubbo and his family were off visiting relatives and wouldn't be back for weeks and his dad was stuck in trade talks with a tiny nation that probably wasn't worth the paper the deal was writen on. Looking through his toy chest he grabed the toy plane that techie got him for his last birthday and went to the gardens to play with it, he was having a great deal of fun with it untill a large bird suddenly flew into a nearby tree causing him to accidentally throw the plane into a tree he had hardly begun showing his thoughts on this development when someone he had never met came round the cornor saw him and for some reasion remove their coat and a circle piece of metal with a gem on the part where your forehead would be, before stepping back looking at the tree and you started climing it and almost falling a few times before catching yourself a determined look on your face, how where you so brave climing that massive tree? When you finaly came back down toy in hand he was amazed it took him a few seconds before he saw that the propeller was broken as he felt the tears start to come back he heard you ask "Do you want to play tag?" you still wanted to play with him smirking he quickly tapped you before running away as fast as he could informing you as he ran that you were it. You were fast he thought as he sat trying to catch his breath but now he was tired you would probably leave him to go play elsewhere and leave him like "do you want to hear a story?" relief filled his chest as sat beside you as you grabed a frankly massive book and told him storys he had never heard before about sister knight who saved a traped nation from distruction, a medic who when her squad was traped by a enemy army unsheathed her sword and single handedly defeated the army and his personal favorite the tale of the first ruler of your nation a person who united a broken people inorder for them all to survive against a terrible evil empire, you even showed him your doll that was based on the ruler. Tommy couldn't think of a day where hes had this much fun from the games, stories, getting to pet the large bird that spooked him in the first place (though he was grateful for that know after all if he hadn't lost his toy he wouldn't have met you) and now your shareing with him candy that hes never heard of. Maybe he can convince his dad to make you stay or to make you his personal servant if your a visting nobles yes then he can introduce you to Tubbo when he gets back and "I just realised I never asked what your name is".What? You have to be kidding right? You'v been so nice to him you have to know who he is? But the seconds drag on and your face don't look like your lying about not knowing who he is. He's about to tell you his full title and name but stops himself no he doesn't want you to call him prince Theseus even if you'v only spent the afternoon together you mean so much to him now you treat him with a kindness only his family show him so you should call him what they call him he reasions and he tells you his name is Tommy he helps pronuounce it correctly and it reaffirms that yes this feels right.

Part 4

The moment however is ruined when the bird (Tenzin you told him it was called) flew to the doors as they opened and a snow lepard hybrid emerged followed by his dad who looked ecstatic that talks were over. The snow lepard hybrid told you that it was time to leave ( with a single sentence Tommy began to hate that hybrid) as you were grabing you things he grabed you as tight as he could manage and asked as calmly as his voice could manage why you had to leave after all he reasioned in his mind he could make sure you were payed much better if you worked for his family. You turned to him with a gentle look in your eyes and placed the doll into his arms while you said " This won't be the last time we shall meet, I will be sure to be sure to write to you when i can't vist and if you get lonely you can have this doll as a symbol of our bond so that way you won't be lonely" all with that smile that he had only seen his family give him. As he held your doll close as possible waving goodbye over the sound of the plane about to take off he heard you yell " Goodbye Tommy" and while he couldn't see his dad eyes he did see the full body flinch as he heard you call his son a name he only permited family to use. As he gushed about you to his dad and asked if he could maybe make you work for them rather than that snow lepard hybrid only to be informed that was your regent and that you weren't a servant but the next ruler of that nation at that revelation he held the doll of your ancestor close and began to formulate a plan as he asked if they had an embassy in your nation after all if you couldn't be with here with him, he would just go with you after all being the ambassador to you nation seemed like a wonderful job if you were there.

Ender,,,, you can't just drop am entire fic on is like this,,, head empty but bravo- this is great

[musewrangler]

One shot I did a while back in my Empire Reimagined Verse. Commander Fox leads General Veers’ security detail in my work post Jedi. Putting it here in honor of Commander Fox Week.

Prompt: Day 1–Loyalty

“What do you mean ‘nowhere’?” Fox clipped in very frosty tones indeed.

Goolsby visibly gulped as Fox moved the medic’s hand away impatiently while they tried to finish spraying bacta on the head wound.

“Sir, I’ve searched the area personally and deployed our men. I am prepared to go further, Commander, but I’m aware we’re on a time crunch, sir.”

Yes they were, kriff everything in the galaxy.

And here Fox was, as useless a runyip, having utterly no karking clue where his General was.

The action had been largely successful, but this was intended to be a swift strike. In, cause devastation, and out. The enemy would regroup-- and in larger numbers-- if they stayed.

This was the ‘loosening up’ action as Veers referred to it. A series of attacks on the planets and outposts within shouting distance of Nal Hutta. Make the Hutts nervous and unsettled--unsure of where the next attack might come.

What they did not need was to lose a kriffing General in the midst of all this. Fox had been right next to him, damn it! And then the karking denton had gone off and knocked him out.

And apparently in the fifteen minutes that Fox had been unconscious, they lost their General.

“Any of our speeder scouts that are still planetside, send out in the wide perimeter. Tell them they have twenty minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” Goolsby didn’t waste time and Fox was appreciative. The kid was getting there and he knew that the clone commander hated unnecessary dithering.

He rose to his feet over the protests of the medic and made his way to Travis. “Sir,” he saluted. “We are unable to locate General Veers. I have men looking now, sir but….”

Travis’s normally pleasant face became hard.

“What happened?”

“Not sure, sir. I was with him when a deton exploded. I can’t give you more information than that, Colonel.”

“Force damn it,” Travis said softly. “We have to be off planet in…” he consulted his datapad. “...43 minutes, Commander.”

“Yes, sir. I volunteer to lead a party to stay behind, sir.”

“Fox…” Travis rubbed a hand over his sweaty face. The fighting had been intense, and while successful, it had taken a toll. “We can’t leave anyone behind here.”

“Agreed, Colonel,” Fox said stubbornly. “I assume that particularly includes the senior General.”

Travis stared at him, then nodded. “Ok. I have to continue coordinating our efforts to depart. Comm the Admiral and get his permission. And….good luck.”

Fox saluted and ducked into the communications tent for some privacy. This holo call would not be easy.

“Commander.” Piett’s life size blue form flickered into being before him.

Fox took a breath. “Admiral. I am sorry to report that General Veers is missing. We are executing a broad search but so far have not turned up anything useful.”

A beat.

“Was he captured? Or injured?” Piett asked, mask firmly in place, but Fox knew what this news meant to the Admiral.

“Unknown, sir. I think it unlikely he was captured, sir, given where we were on the battlefield and the enemy were in retreat, sir. But given that we cannot raise his commlink or find him I am concerned that he is not conscious.”

Piett compressed his lips. “I could have a shuttle ready…”

Both of them knew he couldn’t. Fox said it for him.

“Sir. You have to withdraw---those are our orders from High Command.”

The Admiral closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them, it was the man, not the officer.

“He wouldn’t leave me, Fox….”

“I am fully aware of that, Admiral. Which is why I’m requesting that I stay to look for him on your behalf.”

And mine, his traitorous brain whispered.

Piett gazed at him for several seconds.

“Very well. Stay in contact, Commander. Anything, the smallest detail…”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the moment you locate him, I’m bringing a shuttle.”

“Sir….”

Piett stared at him challengingly. “The. Moment.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

The image disappeared. Well. It had gone better than he’d anticipated. If the man were a Skywalker he would have just gone off on his own rescue mission. Fox commed Scraps.

“You’re acting head of the security division, Lieutenant Commander. I’ll be here retrieving General Veers.”

He realized he was slapping a lot down on the kid’s plate.

“Ah….yes, sir. What…?”

“Goolsby will fill you in when he returns. And Scraps---you need to keep close to the Admiral. Don’t let him co-opt shuttles.”

“Would he?”

“The man has worked closely with Skywalkers for years. This is his closest friend. What do you think?”

Fox didn’t really think Piett would shirk his broader duties or flout his orders. But he was nothing if not prepared for eventualities.

Scraps sighed. “Right.”

Fox stepped out of the tent and caught Travis’s eye. He nodded and the Colonel returned it. Goolsby hurried up. “Still nothing, sir and….”

“I need a field pack immediately. With as many rations and medical supplies as possible,” Fox snapped. Goolsby raised curious eyebrows but knew that the look on Fox’s face meant no questions.

“Yes, sir.”

In short order he had donned a field uniform rather than his armor, and was shrugging on the pack and making a final check of his DC-17s.

Fox strode toward the edge of the woods where he and Veers had last been together. He found the blast area and began to search.

“Sir. We’re ah, prepping the last shuttle, Commander.”

He straightened, prepared to deal with Goolsby’s protestations. Instead he found that the young lieutenant stood before him with hand outstretched.

“Good luck, sir. Please bring him back to us.”

Well.

Fox grasped the hand. “I will. Report to Scraps once you’re onboard. He’ll be in charge.”

“Yes, sir.” Goolsby paused. “If anyone can find him sir….”

“I do not need a pep talk, Lieutenant.”

The younger man flushed. “Yes. Well. Good bye, Commander.”

“Thank you, Goolsby.”

Fox heard the last ship leave but didn’t bother turning around. He decided the best approach was to stick with his own observations---he knew they had searched this area but he was not a very trusting sort of person when it came to other people’s work. He could count on one hand the amount of people he trusted that far and that was frankly generous.

He had maybe four hours of daylight. He returned his attention to the churned up earth. A denton. They had both thrown themselves away from its shriek….

Veers had been standing there. Fox moved that direction and examined it. Nothing of import. All right. He could think of two options--either the General had been captured, or he was wounded and in hiding. But if the latter, why had he not made himself known once the enemy was clearly in route?

This…..concerned Fox.

And Fox did not like the state of being concerned.

He had a hard time wrapping his head around a way that Veers could have been captured over on this part of the field. Though the enemy had been retreating...Fox suddenly recalled the massive ground treader that had been crushing through the undergrowth fifty yards to their left. It had been covering for numerous troops as they made their way back to their lines…

If Veers had been flung far enough, and if he had been conscious, he would have needed to skirt that.

Fox made his way down the slight incline and followed the path of destruction further into the broken and twisted trees. He stopped and considered the tread tracks.

Here it went north. Veers would have stayed behind it and if there were straggling troops, he would have tried to stay out of sight. So it was possible he had been driven far out of his way to do so….

Fox found it rather helpful that he could reasonably expect the General to do what he himself would do in the same situation. This was of course, presuming he wasn’t dead.

For kark’s sake, Fox...

He mentally berated himself. That sort of thinking got one nowhere.

His comm blinked.

“Fox.”

“Anything yet, Commander?”

“Not yet, Admiral. I assure you, sir, if I had anything, I would contact you first.”

A sigh. “Yes. Be aware Commander that it is very likely the enemy will return to scout the battlefield. Exercise extreme caution.”

“Always, sir.”

“Then…..good hunting, Commander Fox.”

“Thank you, Admiral.”

He understood Piett. He would hate to be inactive as well. At least Fox could ease his worry in the search. The Admiral did not have that recourse.

And no. He was not worried. People died in battle---good people. High ranking officers and green recruits alike. It was a fact of life and Fox wasn’t about to get maudlin regarding that now.

So. If he was injured, and far from where he wanted to be, where would he hide?

Fox examined the underbrush carefully. And at last he was rewarded, if he could term it that. A smear of blood. Human no doubt, but he scanned it to be sure.

And it came up positive for one Maximilian Veers.

So he had made it this far.

“Where the kriff are you ,General?” Fox muttered to himself. He was a good mile from the battlefield now.

His stomach twisted in dread. Perhaps….perhaps he should not have been so quick to dismiss the possibility of capture. Wounded and alone---the General would be an easy target for several beings. Especially if they recognized him.

What if he was being tortured right now?

Son of a Hutt was he a Gungan? When had he become so emotionally unhinged?

Veers is far more competent than that, he told himself. Get a kriffing grip.

Fox straightened and considered the terrain. That bloody mark had come from a hand leaning against the trunk. Most likely Veers shoving himself back to his feet. Where would he go?

He looked back and then toward the east. If it was him and he thought enemy troops were still in the area….

Fox headed east. He would then double back to rejoin his troops. After about half a mile, the ground fell away sharply and he had to be cautious with his footing. The sun was low in the sky now and that would triple the difficulty. And he was well aware that Piett was correct--it was very likely the enemy would return to search the battlefield.

He realized that a small mudslide had happened further up the bank as though some unlucky devil had slipped….

He stopped breathing for a moment.

The incline was treacherous for a healthy man, for a wounded one….

Fox sprinted to the place and was rewarded with another substantial clue. An Imperial code cylinder. It was broken and partially covered in the mud, but he lifted it out almost reverently and then got to his knees to study the fallen earth. It was darker and muddier than the dry ground it had reached and... there.

A small trail of it was heading south.

Fox pocketed the cylinder and moved cautiously, not wanting to miss anything.

He rounded a curve in the bank which led back toward the thicker woods--and he could see more disturbed earth and leaves as though someone had clawed their way back up….

He moved swiftly up the embankment himself, flicking on the light of his blaster now, the trees making things much darker.

He nearly missed the shine of the black boot---it was filthy now with mud. But his peripheral vision registered the brief reflection and he was immediately plunging into the brush where Veers had managed to drag himself before passing out.

At least Fox hoped he was only unconscious….

He set the blaster down, allowing the light to illuminate the area and felt for a pulse. There---thready and weak but there.

“General,” Fox tried.

Nothing. He whipped out the scanner---Veers had some severe gashes in his thigh and side---no doubt the work of the denton. The cuirass had protected more vital organs, but his arm was badly lacerated as well. He’d lost significant amounts of blood.

Fox got his hands under the General’s arms and tugged him further into the darkness of the old trees.

*******

Hands. He should be concerned about that. But his brain wasn’t working right….so slow….he was so tired….

“General.”

He knew that voice. But it was dark….

Something hissed near his ear and he felt the cold on his neck. Something else was sliding into his arm with a slight pinch….

And clarity returned to Veers.

He squinted to see the face above him.

Dark and deeply lined, brown eyes looking seriously at his face, brow wrinkled in….worry?

Surely not.

“Fox,” Veers managed.

“That’s right, sir. Lie easy. I’ve got you.”

Strong callused hands cleaning his wounds and applying bacta before winding pressure bandages around his leg. His side protested as Fox unstrapped his cuirass to better get at the gashes there.

“Sorry, General, here.” Another hiss and the pain receded to manageable levels.

Had he known that Fox’s hands could be so gentle?

Veers shifted slightly and realized a drip was connected to his left arm.

“You’re….well equipped. What happened?”

“We were successful,” Fox replied, characteristically blunt. He examined the deep wound in Veers’ upper arm. “But we couldn’t find you. So. I came to do so.”

Veers mused on this.

“Fox are you….AWOL?”

The clone commander gave him a slight curl of the mouth. “No, General. I am here with both permission and orders. The Admiral could not leave the fleet, much as he wished to do so. Thus I am here on his behalf.”

A pause.

“As well as my own.”

“This is a big risk,” Veers said, considering how long they might have before their enemies came looking.

Fox grunted. “Worth it.”

Veers frowned and opened his mouth when Fox interrupted, opening a water bottle and sliding an arm under the General’s head.

“Sir. There is no scenario where I’m just going to leave you. Drink.”

Veers obeyed, marvelling again at the gentle competence of his security lead.

“Now, I have to comm the Admiral before he takes a shuttle on his own.”

Veers snorted lightly, but Fox wasn’t wrong. The clone flicked his commlink.

“Admiral, I have him.”

“And…?” Piett sounded like hell.

“He’s badly wounded sir, but…”

“I’m on my way. I’ll be sure to have the requisite medical staff.”

Veers and Fox exchanged a glance.

“When you say ‘you’ sir….”

“Scraps has already given me grief, Commander. I’m piloting the damn shuttle and we’re coming to get you.”

Judging by his voice, Piett was walking to the hangar bay as he spoke.

“Can I speak with the General?”

“Yes, sir.” Fox handed him the commlink and pulled out rations and thermal blankets.Veers half expected a tent.

“Firmus.”

“Max.”

Veers could feel the waves of his friend’s relief.

“I don’t like being on this end of things,” the Admiral said dryly.

Veers managed a small smile. “Yes. Well, I’d prefer if you were on that end more often.”

“I’d prefer for neither of us to be on this end, but that’s not the way our lives work. Regardless---you hold on General. I’m coming for you.”

And that. That was the way their lives worked. One did not leave the other behind.

“We’ll be here, Admiral.”

Fox took the commlink and then shrugged out of his duty jacket to wad it up under Veers’ head before covering him with two thermal blankets.

Veers watched him tiredly. “How did you find me?”

Fox came to settle beside him, holding the blaster currently providing them with illumination. “I... ah. I thought about what I would do, sir, if I were in your situation.”

Veers rather felt there might be a compliment in there.

They were silent for a time. Then Fox spoke.

“I’m sorry, General. I’m sorry that I lost you.”

He was staring at the earth and that wasn’t like the clone commander.

“Hardly your fault, Fox,” Veers murmured. “It was a denton.”

The other man clenched his hands tightly around his blaster. “Should have anticipated an attack of that nature.”

“Fox…”

“I know. I know I can’t do so all the time, sir. But I’m always going to feel responsible.”

Veers pondered the nature of this relationship---he was the General, Fox was his security lead. Both of them were very good at compartmentalizing--at doing the next thing regardless of cost. He recalled Fox’s eyes when he had first woken. The worry and relief…

“I understand that,” Veers managed, feeling so very drained. He closed his eyes and felt a warm hand land on his arm.

“Stay with me, General.”

“After all the... trouble you went to?” Veers said quietly. “Working on it. Just...tired.”

Fox’s hand stayed on his arm, anchoring him, until the hum of the shuttle’s approach sounded.

Piett’s face-- “let’s go, Max. Henley is keen to see you.”

Medics and a gravsled. The familiar hum of the engines in the Admiral’s lamda.

Scraps helping transfer him to the med bunk that had been pulled down in the passenger area. “Good to see you, sir.”

A pat on the shoulder from Firmus as he went by to resume the pilot’s seat. “The princess sends her love by the way.”

Then the pull of gravity as they lifted off the ground.

The medics were taking care of his wounds and Veers opened his eyes briefly when that familiar grip landed on his arm once more.

Fox had seated himself in the seat at Veers’ head. “Thank you, Commander,” Veers told him.

“You’re my officer,” Fox replied simply. But those strong fingers tightened slightly. Veers closed his eyes again and smiled.

Yes he was.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Merge the Timestream AU.

This came about because the amazing @bitter-chocolate-stars muse for the AU idea Merging the TimeStream flew out and bit me.  I would highly recommend reading it first, because it is awesome and I could not do it justice.

Now onto the madness. 

It is a mission to a Force Temple, old enough that no one knows which side of the Force it was for (or if it was for a specific side).  There were rumors that there was an ancient artifact that could change the tides of the War, so The 212th and the 501st were dispatched to get it before the Separatists. 

Five people went into the final chamber to search(There was a description of the artifact in the temple. Only four words had been able to be translated-Past, Present, Future, and Knowledge): Obi Wan Kenobi, Anaking Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, Commander Cody, and Captain Rex.  

It was these five people who were caught by the artifact.  Each of these five were split into three. The present version of themselves, a future version, and a past version. 

I bet you all can see where this is going. 

Obi Wan’s past version is from Melida/Daan, two days before Cerasi died. The future is Old Ben, coming directly from his own beheading on the Death Star. 

Anakin’s past is nine year old Anakin, hours before he would meet Qui Gon Jinn and Padme Amidala for the first time.  The future is Vader (I hope none of you are surprised), a month after he cut off Luke’s hand, and just after he fully realized that it meant his and Padme’s child had always lived.  

Ahsoka’s past is three years old, just Found by Plo Koon. Her future is Rebels Era Ahsoka, aka Fulcrum, before she found out that Vader was Anakin.  

Rex’s past was a physically four year old cadet, the only survivor of his batch (who were decommissioned because of their blonde hair mutation-Rex’s scores were so high that he was kept). The future is Old Rex, post Empire (I always headcanon that Rex survives to see the end of the Empire because of spite).

Cody’s past is ARC Trainer Cody, after the war had started but before he was assigned to be Obi Wan’s commander. His future had just deserted the Empire and doesn’t even know about the chips yet. 

Frankly it likely would have been better if one or more of those people had arrived unconscious. Alas this was not to be. 

Upon arriving, Little Ahsoka immediately started crying to the visible concern of both Cadet Rex and Child Anakin (both were concerned about punishment at the noise). Before anyone could even think to do anything, Vader pointed a dramatic finger at Old Ben and went ‘You’ and followed up with ‘Why didn’t you tell me my son lived?’

Old Ben caulked his head, ‘Even leaving aside I thought I had left you for dead for a decade, Darth, why would I trust you with your children after the march on the temple?’

Now Darth Vader rocked back on his heels, “Children?” and then a moment later “Leia Organa”

Old Ben sighed deeply, ‘Surely we can both agree that the fact you tortured your daughter does prove me right to keep them from you.’

‘I cut off Luke’s hand too’ Vader said absently

Old Ben just buried his face in his hands.

Now all of this was with the background tune of little Ahsoka still crying.  Former padawan Obi Wan is the one who reaches her first, and picks her up, smoothly herding Cadet Rex and Child Anakin behind him, away from the adults in the room.  Former Padawan Obi Wan is radiating a vicious, desperate protectiveness. 

The movement caused Old Ben to look away from Vader at the rest of the room. His brow furrows. He looks back at Vader, “Do you remember this?”

Vader’s black mask turns to take in the rest of the room, his breath rasps somehow louder than the crying Ahsoka. At last he says ‘I do not’.

Post Empire Rex snorts and says, with an unimpressed deadpan ‘It is probably Force Shit’. 

It takes another half hour to get any kind of semblance of calm and start to piece together what is going on. In spite of the fact that neither Old Ben, nor Vader want to admit who they are (for different reasons), no one in the room is actually stupid. 

There is a moment when Rex is obligated to give Old Ben shit for the fact that he told Luke that Vader killed Anakin Skywalker, to which Ben responds ‘I was just passing on what he’ points at Vader, ‘told me’.

At another moment Fulcrum throws up her hands and shoes at Old Ben ‘I thought you were dead, again. Why didn’t you tell me you survived.’ Old Ben blinks at her, ‘Leaving aside I also thought you were dead, my dear, for the last decade I have had the single highest bounty in the empire’ Old Ben looks to Vader, who nods solemnly after a moment, ‘I would have thought that would be telling.’ Fulcrum actually pouts and mutters, ‘I thought that was a plan by the Rebellion to draw Vader’s attention.’

There is just…so much trauma in this room. Like it is possible that this group has the highest concentration of trauma in the entire galaxy. 

Deserter Cody appears to be having multiple concurrent panic attacks, his face swinging between Old Ben and General Obi Wan almost constantly. Between the residual guilt of having his general shot at, the horror of the long held belief that Cody had caused Obi Wan’s death, the combination of relief and horror at the news of the chip in his head, the combination of relief and confusion at Old Ben (who is proof that Obi Wan Kenobi did not die on Utapau), the confusion of being confronted with two other versions of himself all culminates in the fact that Deserter Cody is going through some things. 

ARC Trainer Cody is going through less, mainly horror at the chips. He is also very much a shiny as far as his reactions to the Jedi are concerned.  He is confused at being transported from Kamino, and does not know if he was transported to the future or they were tanspote to the past.  Frankly by all measures ARC trainer Cody is one of the most stable people in the room. 

Current Cody is sure that his younger self should not meet any members of Ghost Company on the basis that he would never live it down. He is also facing the horror of the chips, confusion at the triplicatation that is going on. His horror is that much deeper than his younger self because he knows and cares for Obi Wan (Light CodyWan for the win).  He is also quite worried for his older self. 

Melida/Daan Obi Wan is still not sure if he is willing to let any of the adults in the room near the other children. He is also doing slightly better with the fact that he grows up to be a general then the fact that he went back to the Jedi. He is also very much a child soldier with all the trauma therein.

Old Ben is not sure if this would be his heaven or his hell. On the one hand he could feel in the Force that he was before Order 66, all the lives he had felt snuff out were alive and well.  On the other hand, there were three Anakins in the room, at least one of which hated him. Also he thought getting beheaded would get him out of dealing with more Skywalker BS.  

General Obi Wan Kenobi is more than a little horrified. His connection to the Unified Force means that he is perceiving echoes of Order 66 through the future counterparts AND the variety of trauma that exists in the younger counterparts simultaneously. In addition, both his younger self and Anakin’s younger self are each triggering unresolved trauma.  

Padawan Commander Ahsoka Tano is staring at her older self in awe, when she was not staring at Vader in horror. She has also been herded to one corner of the room by Former Padawan Obi Wan, despite the fact that she is 16 to his 14. 

Fulcrum makes the decision that she CANNOT deal with the Vader/Anakin revelation at this point and is blocking it out. Instead she is staring at Old Ben. And glancing at her younger self, wondering how much being Anakin’s padawan had damaged her view of the Order. 

Little Ahsoka has calmed, now that she was securely held by a warmer than average Cadet Rex. 

Post Empire Rex is so, so done. This was supposed to be retirement. Being dragged back to the clone wars is not retirement. It was nice to see Fulcrum again though.

Cadet Rex is the definition of stress. He is not sure what test is going on, nor who these new trainers were but he would not fail. 

Captain Rex is not sure what to do with the proof that he would survive the war.  Nor the fate of his general as he stares at the tall black clad being. 

Darth Vader, in addition to all the issues he always carries, is looking at his younger self covetously. Had he had a way he would have tried to possess his younger self, who has everything he wants. At the same time he wants to sit this younger version down and tell him exactly how to avoid everything that Vader is (It should be noted that Vader has no idea how to avoid all that Vader is). He is also boiling angry at every version of Obi Wan, though distantly looks at the little angry version and wonders if this was a way to get his brother back.  The knowledge of Luke’s survival is drawing him back toward the single selfless thing he has done in decades, but he is still very much a Sith. 

Child Anakin is deeply confused and frankly ecstatic that he hasn’t blown up yet. It is very clear they are not on Tatooine and nowhere near Watto. He is also not impressed that he somehow escaped slavery only to become enslaved again (in his perception Vader is also chip controlled and thus enslaved).

General Anakin Skywalker is freaked out by Vader, who is radiating a weird greed at him, and also by the implications of everything the future people have said. He is also heartbroken over Palpatine being evil (even Vader agrees, in his own way, that Palpatine is evil). Everything strikes deep enough that Anakin actually decided he needed a therapist (There is something about the casual way that Vader talks about torturing Anakin and Padme’s children that cements that decision).

It turns out that the Artifact is the entire temple, so removing it is not feasible. 

Like in the original idea, I am not sure if the past and future versions find themselves eventually returning to their own times, or if they are stuck in the present. Though there is something that is amusing about the Jedi now having to deal with three of each of these five people, one of which is a Sith. Particularly since Vader both wants to kill them all and wants to protect them all (to prevent Anakin’s Fall).

It does change so many things though.

[of-tatooine]

honor him. | chapter 1 - wolf to man

sword practice takes a turn as tensions rise under the gray skies of the Flooded District.

Ego homini lupus.

Man is wolf to man. The dark, twisted, plague-ridden world you had to be a part of brought this brutal law of nature to the spotlight - in all of its twisted ways man could think of.

Sometimes it took form in letting swarms of rats crawl and devour a poor soul in a matter of minutes, only leaving the gut-wrenching sounds of human tissue getting chewed on while you watched and did not lift a single finger to rescue the man. It was just the way the world worked, the way the cogs turned and clicked. It had been a challenge to shut down your sense of pity and helpfulness as a good human being - when your entire life revolved around killing and letting it be killed, finding time for remorse did not come so easy between the death contracts.

Often times it was a bloody blade twisting in yet another soul’s heart, tearing arteries and ribs apart. Traveling to the deepest, grittiest corners of the once-great city of Dunwall, slicing countless noble and Weeper throats for coin that would only be enough to barely get by, days and days of living on cold and ruthless rooftops to scout for missions had all shown you many horrors that your humankind could commit. In times of distress, of misery and sometimes, times when one succumbs to selfish intentions.

This time, the simple combination of Latin words was showing its' gnarly thorns into killing an Empress.

The piercing sound of steel clashing steel echoed through the bricks and the damaged rooftops as it got mixed with the filtered huffs and groans thrown in the duel through the whaler masks. He pressed on with another attack, taking a quick forward step along with a low groan of effort as he threw out an expert dash that would have taken your dainty little beating heart out of your chest if you had not anticipated it, a little spark flying out as your trusted blade clashed against his yet again.  

The shadows in your hands became prominent, engulfing your fingers with the familiar warmth of smoke and magic until the sensation was blocked. The dark but enticing songs of the whales muted for the time being, powers taken away from you momentarily as the cool and cold surface of the steel felt harsh against your palms again.

“Flesh and steel. The way I trained you,” the Knife of Dunwall sneered, almost reprimanding you, a familiar spark of adrenaline in his darkened eyes.

A man of enigmas stood before you wielding a knife, but there was only one certain truth eminent on him - when Daud fought, it had been with the only intention of killing.

The man rose strong yet scarred from the slums when all odds were against him, killing to fight for his life, later for coin, for reputation and much to your gratefulness, to keep his underlings alive and fed and equipped. It had been easy to him, taking lives as he did not even bother for a split second to watch the light dim out in their eyes, blood washing over his leather overcoat and steel only to dry off till the next target appeared in his eyesight. Whoever saw the Knife in front of their mere mortal eyes, with his blade drawn and ready, begged to pay him tenfold whatever his patron paid, collapsed without a hint of pride left.

Only this time, there was something else lurking in there, some sort of unknown. Uncertainty reflecting off of his irises as they met yours on the opposite sides of locked steel, neighbored by the reflection of the old and battered down Rudshore Financial buildings.  Almost as if those dark eyes of his were looking for answers to questions you could not fathom, questions you did not dare ask yourself in the first place.

The shadow magic unavailable from your disposal for the time being, you fueled your pent up adrenaline into a violent push to break out of the agonizing lock, sending your Master’s blade slide off of yours with a screeching sound from the friction.

Taking a step back and catching your breath, the blade was flipped with years ease in your hands as you watched his movements - taking in every step, every little reflex, even the single movement of his fingers clasping the metal handle. The two of you moved in accustomed unison, albeit on opposite sides, like two wolves circling in the snow, waiting to bite each other’s throats off but only waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The Serkonan scanned your every movement with his rugged but dangerously handsome face - you knew he knew your next ten steps, what you wanted for dinner, and then some. His moves and tricks were no surprise to you either, after all, you had been by his right hand, under his wing for many painful years.

Locked in that tense moment, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and knuckles almost white from all that clutching, you lunged forward in a swift but graceful attack which got countered by none other than the blade master himself and a series of slashes, groans and sickening clangs began echoing in the air.

What had been an ordinary daily sword practice on the rooftops of the Flooded District had turned into the rather interesting sparring of the Knife of Dunwall against one of his most-trusted lieutenants. Whalers knelt and stood on surrounding buildings, some watching behind the brick remnants of destroyed walls, some choosing the more traditional approach and staying on the rooftops. Wherever the Whalers were, it did not matter - there was only one focal point, one spectacle to follow.

“Is the old man trying to kill her or something?” the assassin clad in navy leather spoke in a surprised tone beneath the mask. “Always thought Daud had a soft spot for her - how did this happen?”

The woman clad in red leather shrugged, with her arms crossed, eyes dead focused on the clinging blades further down below, following every moment and every flick of the leather-covered wrists. “Daud knows what he is doing,” she spoke, sounding fairly confident in contrast to the fact that, frankly, Billie Lurk did not have an inkling of an idea of what fueled the almost emotional duel she was witnessing.

Sure, it was common occurrence for Daud to try one of the assassins in a duel every now and then, but the magic running through her veins sourced by none other than her Master himself told another tale - he was desperate. As if he was looking for a way out, or for someone to reassure him. Someone to tell him that everything would fall into place in the end. A trapped soul he was, signals of doubt lingering in the ebbs and flows.

The Daud she knew never crumbled against the unknown.

Panting mixed in with angry throes of war with the side of sickening metal clashes were all you could hear as your footwork did not let you down for the time being.

By the time you could count the ways you fought against Daud, it would take you an entire trip around the Isles and maybe more. After all, he had been the one to pull you out from the gutter, from the decrepit, bloodfly-infested back alleys of the slums of Karnaca. Taught you how to slit your first throat in exchange for money. Sailed across the Isles and brought you to capital of the Empire, where he trained you relentlessly. Told you how to exploit the weaknesses of each and every victim. How to find the shady stuff under everyone’s name, even the cleanest, the most noble. How to stick a blade in one rich bastard in the Estate District to please another rich bastard somewhere else, long as gleaming coin went in your pouch at the end of the day. How to confront the most dangerous, most reckless and the most wanted of Dunwall - only equipped with one of his old swords he had stolen from the Grand Guard.

“Always go for the head,” he had always said as his leather-clad hands tutored yours, teaching you the ruthless ways of fighting. The feel of that calloused texture still fresh under your fingertips.

True to his advice, that was exactly what he did to send you reeling back in a loud groan - his undefeated blade knocking yours out of your grip in a sharp flick of his large hand, sending it sprawling against the old bricks and cement.

Your panting and aching body was then left without a solid defense, he seized the opportunity as well as any - the cold hard steel rested dangerously on your covered throat, the victorious master assassin’s larger frame close to yours as his dark eyes sparked in some sort of emotion you could not discern. Shivers running down your body, a lump in your throat so evident it made the blade angle as a defeated gulp passed through.

It was as if the world had stopped. You wondered if this is what being summoned to the Void felt like - cold, uninviting, tiring, frightening, daunting. Unknown and unexplored. He had told you about his encounters with the black-eyed bastard once, years after when he first received the wretched mark on his left hand that seemed to haunt him in his nightmares to every single dawn.

Now it seemed to be that Daud himself was recreating the Void for you, for all of the eyes to watch as the Whalers held their breaths.

“You better not fight like this when we take the Empress,” Daud scolded you, his fierce eyes locked into yours even through the covers that your whaler mask provided. As his mouth uttered the last word, your entire body was begging you to give up, to collapse as your heart dropped. Your body under the heavy tactical gear stood as rigid as can be, though, even with a blade looming on your precious neck and all you could give to your mentor as an answer was a short nod.

Was this one of those usual duels he would pick up with you just to show the other Whalers what failure could cost them? Beat you on purpose, take the shared powers away from you for the duration of the fight so that the others would train like they would die in the next hour?

No - this had been a message for you. Every single footstep he took as he advanced on you, every little spark that flew into thin air as metal hit metal.

Much to your demise, the Knife of Dunwall knew you to your core. By the Void, he could piece together details about you that the old soul of the Outsider maybe did not even consider looking for.

Daud knew this one contract, the biggest job his Whalers were asked to pull off would strike a nerve deep within you, hit a buried spot concealed within your emotions, your morals and memories. The same spot in him that was struck, that made him do a double-take on the grand scheme of things, what they implied. What this particular death implied.

It terrified him, as much as it terrified you. He knew the mere prospect of it, considering the looming deadline as you steadily approached into Month of Earth, shook you to the very core. It was natural instinct for you to read through his irises, but some experience to see the hesitance lay in them.

“Understood, sir,” your throat gave out in a hoarse voice filtered through the mask, your head tilted upwards to his towering figure as he grew satisfied with the answer, loosening his grip on the blade slowly, then sheathing it to the holster on his belt with habituated ease. Your chest heaved with deep, lingering breaths as the remnants of the adrenaline emptied themselves in your veins, slowly dissipating after the sparring. The man in front of you tilted his muscular neck, as the mark on his left hand glowed orange ever-so-visible even through his thick gloves as he raised his palm lightly - making the familiar warmth of power surge through you once again, the return of the bond making you gasp lightly, finding some sort of much-needed comfort as you nodded your thanks.

With yet one more stare thrown your way, his jaw clenched as his feet carried him across the rooftops away from your figure, walking in between his assassins, his loyal gang of misfits and killers alike. Taking this as a signal that practice for the day being was over, the Whalers began to vanish into the shadow one by one, leaving a more vast, open sight of the gray skies contrasting the beige-white ruins of what once used to be a booming financial hub.

It was at that moment of defeat that your weakened body fell on the knees next to your sword, millions of possible scenarios filled with blood and screams running through your mind. Head leaning forward as you breathed in and out, in an attempt to calm yourself down.

And it was at that moment when your heart and body and mind fell in unison - you could never spill the blood of an Empress, even if the man who swore to protect your life ordered you to.

[meloncubedradpops]

Repo! The Corona Opera: Final Countdown

This is the third and final installment of Repo: The Corona Opera. In the first piece, I made the argument that the surreal events we are experiencing in 2020 remind me of the world in the movie Repo! the Genetic Opera. My second essay compared the characteristics of fascism with the same movie. Here we will tie together ideas in both works to highlight a dark path that America is on, based on what we know about Repo!, in the hopes that we can reject the evils of those who are sacrificing our health and safety for their own selfish reasons. 

When I began thinking about this movie through the lenses of COVID-19, I saw uncanny patterns that just years ago seemed like an exaggerated storytelling. Millions of people dying from organ failure. Yeah, but how? 

Then 2020 happened. Oh, that's how. Sure the disease doesn't affect everyone in the same way, but its wrath and potential to harm are tremendous. The death toll in the United States alone is, as of today, is 231,000. At least, that is the death toll we are know so far. It will take time when the dust settles and we can analyze the excess death data to truly know how many of our fellow Americans have died. 

And while our world does not currently emulate those opening comic scenes in Repo, the impact from the sudden loss of life will be felt for a long time. There are a lot of really great themes in Repo: the concept of the family, drug addiction, the impact of corporate monopolies, and let's not forget it's a gothic coming-of-age story too. I am going to highlight three concepts that weave together our current reality with the world of Repo: the parallels of the Trump and Largo family, the Graverobber as the symbolic "other", and organ repossessions is genocide.

As mentioned in my previous entry, I highlighted the ways that Rotti Largo is a fascist. I went into detail supporting the argument that his company GeneCo holds tremendous and unyielding power in the city we see in the movie. And despite his efforts to save humanity from extinction, his assumed heirs and blood-related children are nothing short of entitled mediocrity. I will draw many parallels between President Donald Trump and Rotti Largo throughout the duration of this essay, but let's take a few minutes to talk about their children. Believe it or not, this meme was made by myself and my friend FOUR years ago, almost to the day! 

But unlike 2016, I had no idea that I'd find multiple comparisons to draw upon. And frankly, if we all knew how bad this presidency would be, for both America and the rest of the world, we might have made less jokes from our complacency. I ask the the real question though, which Trump and Rotti offspring are most alike?

Now, I've wanted to do this thought exercise since the inception of my essays. The surface level combinations would look something like, Amber and Ivanka (since they're both women, obvs), Donald Trump JR as Luigi (oldest child), and Eric Trump as Pavi ("you're just his useless brother!"). 

However my boyfriend raised a great point that had me rethink this: Donald Trump Jr is ACTUALLY Amber Sweet. When I took out the gender aspect out of the equation, it made so much more sense. In my next point, I will go into drug addiction in a much more dignified manner. But let's just take a moment here to consider the following. 

We know that Amber Sweet is addicted to two things in life: surgery and pain killing drugs to make surgery bearable. Amber Sweet's character provides an incredible insight to the daily life of the people in Repo. If you subtract the Zydrate Anatomy scene, you would hardly even know that zydrate is devastating lives of the people addicted to it. We hear about zydrate in the graveyard as a commercial and the media spends its first opportunity asking Rotti about zydrate's "use and abuses". After Sweet becomes a no-show in the presser, we quickly learn that she runs a support group for fellow addicts, or at least she is supposed to. 

How does this relate to Trump Jr? Quite simply, many are speculating that Trump Jr abuses cocaine. The most compelling evidence is his speech during the Republican National Convention. Now, obviously we don't have solid evidence that he is indeed consuming and abusing cocaine, and quite frankly if he is, that would not be incredibly surprising or even a huge deal. 

But the conversation doesn't end here. President Donald Trump did not hesitate to bring up former vice president Joe Biden's son Hunter Biden and his battle with addiction during the first Presidential Debate. It was a low jab, especially considering that the United States is going through a crippling opioid crisis, which he even admits is exacerbated by covid-19 and related lockdowns. Both Donald Trump and Rotti Largo exploit their own children in this manner. I mean, Donald Trump helped fucked up the Trump Foundation where his children were held prominent positions, which was caught stealing from a charity intended to help children with cancer! Every time we see Donald Trump Jr on our doom-screens, we get another glimpse into Jr's downward spiral. And with every additional crime that all of president Trump's children become implicated in, the more and more we can see that this family is rotten to the core. 

If Trump Jr is Amber Sweet, then Ivanka is Luigi. In Repo, Luigi can be described as nothing short of a homicidal maniac. I am not saying that Ivanka commits murder, at least not directly, but she does hold a lot of power in the White House. Spend any time learning about the machinations of the White House, particularly in the early days, and you will learn Ivanka competed with Melania for a voice in the administration, and still works for the White House today. Even if you exclude all of the shady business ties, such as the dozens of Chinese patents (including for voting machines!!!) Ivanka has filed, clearly the boundaries of nepotism do not exist for this family. Luigi somehow kills multiple people in the movie and faces no consequences for it. How can this be? Obviously corruption, but that is too simple. If there were multiple checks and balances at one point that would have forced Luigi to face justice for his crimes, they have obviously failed to come to roost in the movie. The obvious common denominator between today and the world of Repo is that those who want power will do anything to obtain and maintain it. Does the public know about every murder committed by Luigi? Does the public know about every crime committed by Ivanka (and also by proxy her husband Jared Kushner, who by the way, failed to pass mandatory security clearances but still has access to the intelligence of our government)? Jared intentionally made it difficult for many of the states hit hardest by covid-19 in the early weeks to acquire the necessary medical supplies because the electorate did not vote for Trump in 2016. That. IS. MURDER. Just as Luigi calls the common citizens in Repo "filthy mice", “Jrvanka” (and the Right at greater) frames the nation as two groups: us and THEM. Luigi is much less calculated, but the comparisons are there. If given the chance, the Trump and Largo family will kill because of their sociopathy, greed, and egos. 

Admittedly I don't have as compelling of a comparison for Eric Trump and Pavi. However I will say that both Pavi and Eric do the bidding for their father's empire, and I would also argue that both feel like they have to compete to get a modicum of attention and love from a paternal figure devoid of basic empathy. And at the end of the day, they do not reject their father's tyranny. And honestly that is enough of a comparison for me. 

Last but not least, I can't ignore the fact that the official Republican Party platform for the 2020 election is loyalty to Trump in the absence of any other political or philosophical idea. A majority of the speakers at the Republican National Convention were members of his family. Their pitch to Americans is “Just Trust Us”. However, a quarter million Americans aren't here to agree or disagree with that statement. With each passing day, more and more Americans are getting sick, to the tune of tens of thousands of cases a day on average currently. The Largo family and GeneCo are not much different. Remember that scene in 21st Century Cure where Shilo and Graverobber are in a mass grave where we can see truck loads of humans being added to the pile of corpses? 

The only real thing separating the corpses from the rest of the city is a poorly constructed brick wall and the years of propaganda that normalizes what I imagine would be a terrible pungent smell of death. 

The entire Trump family came into the first presidential debate without masks. The president was literally sick with a virus that statistically speaking, could kill his opponent; and he was on stage shedding this incredibly contagious virus screaming and shouting, spreading his droplets everywhere. The Trump family failed to show up early enough to be tested for covid before the debate. 

This was not an accident. Jared Kushner bragged to journalist Bob Woodward back in April that Trump was going to take the country "back from scientists". As of this past weekend, we learned that Trump is floating around the idea of firing our nation's leading disease expert Anthony Fauci in a time where our cases, deaths, and hospitalizations from covid-19 are surging. It is almost grotesquely poetic how similar this is to GeneCo. GeneCo is a company in the healthcare industry, but they exploit the worst parts of society, which I will go into very soon. And in its effort to achieve maximum quarterly profits, the ends always justify the means, even if that results in fascism and excess death/suffering. Rotti's body guards kill the doctor who gives him his grim diagnosis. Trump didn't kill the doctors treating him during his recovery with covid, but information we got from the White House doctors were straight up WEIRD. We witnessed a Gentern being killed by Luigi in the Mark It Up Scene for no other reason besides existing in the proximity of him. Trump has spread misinformation about how there's more money to be made when a doctor declares a death as a covid death. I am finding it hard to see the difference. I think I've made my point regarding the parallels of the Trump and Largo family quite clearly, but you may see additional points I bring up as the rest of my essay unfolds. 

Society is complex with more nuance than we give it credit to. The different ways that various groups of people interact with are endlessly interesting, and one of the reasons I love Repo so much is because there's an incredible amount of unpacking that you can do, even in the absence of written dialogue about it. 

If you don't know, Repo started out as a story originally penned as "The Necromerchant's Debt", which gave the Graverobber character a more active role in the world crafted by Darren Smith and Terrace Zdunich. When watching the movie Repo! The Genetic Opera, the Graverobber is certainly a character seen in multiple scenes, but in a lot of ways, his importance is left out. An entire scene was cut from the film, see Needle Through a Bug below if you're interested. 

Regardless the parts that we do see are still greatly impactful. Graverobber is essentially the symbolized "other" living in a world that is greatly stratified by social class, and he's doing what he can to survive. 

Now if you have been living on this planet we call Earth and have ever paid attention ever, you probably have noticed that there are a lot of power structures that influence the resources and opportunities that aid in our development and maintenance of our needs. The access to being able to elevate ourselves above basic survival are typically contingent upon a few things, one namely our ability to draw a paycheck. As I mentioned in my last essay, so many things went wrong to have what would equivalently be either a drug trafficking felony in today's terms or maybe theft, result in permissible extra-judicial murder. And I am not saying that Trump's bragging of the extra-judicial murder of an ANTIFA activist is at all related, but look at the way Trump compares his dissidents with the way GeneCo treats Graverobbers.

 We are experiencing the early stages of economic collapse, millions of people are hungry, soon-to-be evicted, jobless. And yet, the Republicans in power just HAD to rush through a Supreme Court justice. When arguing against lockdowns that would have saved lives, the Right spent countless hours arguing about increase suicide, drug use, poverty, domestic abuse, blah blah blah, you know all the things that were there and as equally as important pre-pandemic? And they did NOTHING to help mitigate this disaster beyond the bill that was passed this spring. The house passed the HEROES Act back in May, and senate majority leader Mitch McConnel declined to take a vote on it. 

Never mind the fact that landlords are still expected to pay the banks their mortgages on their investment properties. Never mind the fact that rent wasn't cancelled. Never mind that the Trump administration sought to prevent any oversight into the first bill passed previously to prosecute fraud. So you know, we can make sure the money went to small business owners, and not instead to the many, many crony ties to the administration who were approved for huge amounts of money. Honestly to think about this is kind of sickening, particularly when you relate it back to Repo and my essay I wrote on fascism.

I could probably talk all day about our failure with the "War on Drugs", but I feel like you can probably see based on the efficacy of its policies that drugs still exist and people are still abusing them. I bring this up because the Graverobber's occupation is essentially a drug dealer. However he sells a counterfeit of zydrate derived from the body of a bug who naturally borrow in a corpse's body, which is and also isn't stealing from the corpse / their estate, but is somehow still "bad" enough that you can legally be killed "on site" if a Gene Cop thinks you're harvesting the blue brain goo. I mean this entire concept makes my brain hurt. 

The Graverobber, as a concept, is a perfect example of the enemy who is simultaneously the biggest and the least threat, and the only way to stop them is to kill them before they can appeal before the jury of their peers or go to prison to pay for their crimes. And I am sure the propaganda that justifies this is beautifully orchestrated. It literally mimics Russian propaganda, AKA the biggest foreign intelligence threat since, I don’t know, the Cold War? I can picture authoritarian stump speeches now: 

"Here the Graverobber who comes in the night, tempting your children. They sell the promise of a good time, but did you know they are raping your daughters for this drug?? They can get your husband hooked on zydrate, and you won't know it's coming until he comes home unrecognizable. These thugs are stealing your grandmother's ring off her corpse, and you will find her half-rotted corpse thrown askew across her tombstone when you go to pay your respects."

And yet Graverobber defends himself:

"Industrialization has crippled the globe (Enjoy GeneCo's day and nighttime formula of Zydrate) Nature failed as technology spread (Ask a gentern if Zydrate is right for you) And from this wake a market erected (Buying Zydrate from an unlicensed source is illegal) An entire city built on top of the dead! And you can finance your bones And your kidneys For every market a submarket grows But best you be punctual With making your payments Lest it be you on the concrete below It's quick! It's clean! It's pure! It could change your life! Rest assured! It's the 21st century cure! And it's my job To steal and rob GRAVES!" 

He then goes into detail about how this is just the cost of doing business with his modern world. How many of our current and future stories by those who will not make a single sentence in our history books will be casted as enemies of the state who were ultimately just trying to make end's meet? You can deport the illegal immigrant but neglect to prosecute the American company who hired them to work here? How is that much different? If the people in Repo need this drug to cope with the deaths of their loved ones and their livelihoods, then what does that say about the soul of their nation? 

If you are still with me at this point, I want to thank you so much. I am going to conclude on a fairly heavy topic, but it is one worth having. Organ repossessions in Repo are genocide and in America, we are currently also committing genocide. 

The whole premise of the film is the justification that those who fail to make payments on their surgeries deserve to have their organs repossessed, because what other reality is there with unrelenting end-stage capitalism? People are losing their whole lives as I type this, through no fault of their own. Most Americans cannot afford a $400 emergency expense pre-covid-19. Millions are unable to pay for basic life expenses, such as rent, healthcare or food. Our president specifically shoved a Supreme Court justice because he wants the American Healthcare Act to be deemed too unconstitutional for public policy. Never mind the 100+ million Americans with pre-existing conditions. Never mind the millions who acquire their healthcare through the ACA marketplace. Never mind the fact that we are in a once-in-a-century PANDEMIC. Never mind that we spend more per capital on healthcare than anywhere else in the world. Never mind that the Right does not have ANY sort of plan to replace something in its place. How could MILLIONS die in an organ failure crises in Repo anyways? We already know that the Trump administration already stopped caring about covid deaths when we learned it was hurting people of color disproportionality than the general population. 1 out of 1000 black Americans have died from covid. Reread that sentence. If you don't believe me, go out and seek those facts for yourself. When we think of genocide we think of Hitler killing thousands of people via gas chambers. But there are SO many other steps that lead to the normalization of that. 

Undesirables, aka the "others", are easy to discard. Is it a surprise to anyone that ICE gynecologists are removing the uteruses of detainees? I almost made my whole essay about that one controversy alone. Genocide is insidious like that. 

"Oh but if she didn't want that hysterectomy, she shouldn't have tried to come to America for a better life, even if that's what my ancestors did." 

Of course not, she's the "other", and you're the law-abiding citizen. You were able to afford the extra $30 a month for the upgraded booby package that gave an otherwise unremarkable kidney transplant a fun twist by including breast implants. The orphan who works the streets because his parents died during the plague who needed a new pancreas because insulin became too expensive is threatening your suburbs. Bonus points if the orphan has a hint of melanin in his skin or if your daughter shows favor towards his antics, completely ignoring the fact that his mommy and daddy were killed by preventable disease. I have no idea if this was intentional or not, but look at the makeup of people who get their organs repossessed in Repo and try not to tell me there's a trend. Yes it could have been the coincidence of casting, but nevertheless it is worth mentioning. We don't see many people of color in this movie, but of the few we see, they get murdered by GeneCo/Wallace. And I don't care how stupid coincidences are because that is exactly what is happening with covid-19. The so-called essential, working class citizens (who are disproportionally POC) are putting their whole life on the line to serve everyone else who works at home. 

The ends justifies the means, kill enough elderly and the federal government won't have to pay out on social security. Force everyone to get back to work and fuck you if you think you deserve money for the hours you weren't allowed to work (oh and by the way we want to make it so you can't sue for covid-19 related liabilities). Oh you lost your job, "try something new", as told by Ivanka Trump earlier this summer. 

My main point is if you let fascism get control, they will normalize genocide and put you in jail for even making the connections of corruption. "Millions of people dead from organ failure, what's adding a few more to the pile in the name of law and order?" "The only good Democrat is a dead Democrat". Once again, I am failing to see the difference. 

Okay I threw a lot at you just now, and the fact you made it to the end is a miracle. If you skip around because you have a squirrel brain like me, I thank you as well. The fact we get out of bed everyday and do anything right now is a miracle and I know attention can be finite. 

I am writing this on the eve of the United States General election after having wanting to write this since June of this year. I am tired. We are ALL Shiloh right now. Our lives have been on pause. "I must be brave", "I'll capture it", "Run back inside". Yeah girl, same! I haven't talked about her much throughout any of my essays, but I have to give credit where credit is due. 

Humans are a resilient creature. We have millions of years of experience on this Earth, and much of our survival has been based on pure dumb luck. But we have blown so many other species out of the water in one way alone, and that is our ability to communicate. 

We don't have to let people who exploit our weaknesses control us. The sociopaths who try and run our society did not historically aid in our survival. They didn't care if we ate the mushroom that killed us or would have protected us when threatened by wildlife, it was our tribe. The Right has successfully hijacked that bond between the self and the tribe so that it can fit the needs of sociopathy and greed. It is not normal for a president to tell a nation that "it is what it is" when over 100k citizens die from a preventable disease. Do not let the sociopaths throw us in that tiny pine box in a mighty small drop in a mighty dark plot, hastening the trip to our epilogue. Because every inch you give, they will take a mile and charge you by the hour. Never forget that.

[oldadastra]

Letter to Lucasfilm

So, I’ve written a letter to Lucasfilm. It could be better, but this is what came out this afternoon. I hope others who are writing will share what they are putting into the mail. I was trying to be concise, but it still ran to several pages. Find it in its entirety below the cut:

***

Lucasfilm, Ltd. Attn: Fan Mail PO Box 29901 San Francisco, CA 94129-0901

December 30, 2019

Lucasfilm/Disney:

I am writing to express my anger, shock, disappointment and deep sadness with the final installment of the Star Wars saga, Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker.

I was ten in 1977 when the original film was released and have loved Star Wars ever since. I was thrilled by the reopening of the saga in The Force Awakens, and delighted by the excellent script, rich visual storytelling, nuanced character development, and thematic direction of Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi.

Disney took on a sacred trust when it acquired Lucasfilm. Star Wars is deeply important to many people, and if you couldn’t do justice to the characters and themes of the saga, I’d argue that you had no business being involved in these stories. There is so much Disney/Lucasfilm got wrong in Rise of Skywalker, I’m struggling to gather my thoughts or express them coherently, but here goes:

Ben Solo. You created the most compelling character in the new trilogy by destroying the happy ending of the original trilogy. I was willing to go along on the ride Abrams and Kasdan began in The Force Awakens, because the fate of Ben Solo felt like it mattered. The questions raised in the new films: the nature of good and evil, the degree to which one’s family legacy defines a person, whether a one can atone for past sins; all of it felt alive and urgent in the person of Ben, a character I loved like one of my own children from the moment we so traumatically met him in The Force Awakens. His story was the beating heart of the new trilogy. His story is the one that mattered. His life was the one to be saved.

Ben solo was never an exposition device, cool villain, or disposable baddie to me. He was Han and Leia’s only child; loved, targeted, broken, lost.

The Rise of Skywalker redeems Ben Solo in the final act of the film, only to destroy him. Was it always your plan to kill the last Skywalker in the final installment of this story, to render the overarching message of all nine films as tragedy? If so, I wish I’d known this was your intent; I would never have engaged with these stories and made an emotional investment in them. If tragedy was your goal, that was certainly your choice to make, but I’d argue that you owed it to the audience and the cast to do a better job of it.

For example: You give us evidence that Han and Leia’s child was targeted by evil old men from before his birth. It’s a disturbingly explicit allegory of grooming and child abuse.

You give Ben Solo a backstory which implies he is guilty of vile, Anakin-style crimes against other young people, coding him as a school shooter, and then chose to exonerate him of this crime in a comic book, where the general audience will never know he was innocent. It’s a form of character assassination.

You consigned Ben Solo to the darkness for almost the entirety of three films, then denied him his voice in the final acts of his own story. “Ow?” The only words the redeemed Ben Solo will ever speak. Apalling.

You brought back Palpatine for this film (arguably rendering the message of the first six films meaningless), identified the Emperor as Ben’s tormentor all along, then denied Ben the opportunity to fight his enemy in the final act of the film.  Rise of Skywalker literally throws Ben Solo into a pit, and forces him to climb out alone and unaided while Rey is whispered to by “all the jedi,” offering her words of encouragement. It’s grotesque.

I’m getting lost in rage and sadness again here, so let me just say that even if you inexplicably didn’t care about the last Skywalker in the Skywalker saga, you have done a grave disservice to Adam Driver in your treatment of his character in this these films.  Perhaps you’ve heard of Driver’s non-profit organization, Arts in the Armed Forces? He’s deeply committed to the importance of stories as a way to make meaning out of the inexpressible. Did he really sign on to this project thinking that the final message of his character would be to say that even if you are able to come back from the darkness, your final act must be to die? That imperfect children don’t deserve compassion, forgiveness, life? You owe Mr. Driver an apology, but you can never really atone for what you’ve done to him.  

You ended a nine-film, forty-two year saga with all the Skywalkers dead, and a Palpatine the last one standing. You spent three films tormenting Han and Leia’s child, only to kill him in the final act.  What you did to Ben Solo (and frankly to us, who loved him) feels more like a horror story than anything else. In my dreams, I walk right into your offices and flip over tables.

There’s a lot more I could accuse Rise of Skywalker of bungling, but I assume you are hearing this feedback from others besides me, so I will summarize:

Rey Palpatine. Was is all about the midiclorians after all? By making her Palpatine’s granddaughter, you deny Rey everything that made her special; you deny her agency, and you negate the beautiful message I thought you were trying to communicate in the first two films with Rey Nobody: that the force belongs to us all, and that anyone can be a hero

The erasure of Rose Tico. It’s difficult to interpret this as anything but a capitulation to a loud, racist, and misogynist element of the fandom. It’s a very bad look, Disney. Please pay attention to the message you are sending.

Character development in general and a truly horrible ending: Rey goes back into her child-like costume, Ben Solo spent much of the film forced back into his stupid mask. Ben disappears at the end with no one to mourn him. Rey ends the film alone in a desert wasteland.

Rise of Skywalker is the most bleak, hopeless, and depressing Star Wars film ever made. As days go by, it’s becoming clear that it was also poorly written and edited. These stories matter to us, and we pay close attention to them. Disrespect us at your peril.

I don’t expect anyone will ever read this missive, or care at all about what an old shepherd on a mountainside thought about the execution of your multi-billion dollar movies. This is a personal exercise in catharsis as much as anything.

But here are a few notes in a language you might understand. I made some quick calculations about how much money I’ve spent on Star Wars over the past four years, and I’m sharing that with you now.

Movie tickets:  I’m one of those people who sees movies I love more than once (I saw Empire Strikes Back eighty-one times in the theater!). I saw The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi at least ten times each. I’m not counting the cost of tickets for my extended family, whom I brought along to a number of screenings, or tickets for birthday party guests we treated to these movies. My teenaged daughter came along for all the screenings I am including, so I calculate I spent about $360 on tickets. We also bought tickets to Rogue One and Solo, so it was actually more, but you get the idea.

Books, tie-ins, DVDs, merchandise: I invested in The Art of the Force Awakens and The Art of the Last Jedi books, as well as at least one SW Visual Dictionary. I bought DVDs of the films of course, and CDs of John Williams’ beautiful scores. I bought and read a number of books; Boodline and the Leia novel, The Force Awakens novelization and Junior novelization, Aftermath, and a couple others whose titles escape me. At least seven action figures. Toy light sabers for me and my daughter. Posters. T Shirts. I know I’m not remembering everything, but it adds up to an expenditure of at least $347 in books and other Star Wars merchandise.

Star Wars Celebration: I splurged on passes for my daughter and I to attend Star Wars Celebration in Chicago this past spring. It cost me about $400, and a last-minute family emergency meant we were unable to attend, but the tickets were non-refundable, so it was money I spent on Star Wars nonetheless.

Total: $1,107

A laughably small amount to you guys, I’m sure. Perhaps a contrast is useful:

Total amount I have spent (tickets for my daughter and I on opening night) on Rise of Skywalker: $22.

Total amount I plan to spend on Disney Lucasfilm merchandise in the future: $0

I invested quite a lot of my time in Star Wars over the past four years. I’ve written thousands of words in essays, appreciations and analyses (mostly on Tumblr), where I amassed a modest following of just over a thousand people. I’m sure I occasionally bored my friends and family by going on and on about Star Wars. This kind of ‘work’ has no dollar value of course. I will say that it was great fun while it lasted, though I feel foolish in retrospect, remembering all the times I came to your defense, arguing that the saga was in good hands, that you had a plan; that you were going to tell a good story.

Sadly, I don’t think you can fix the damage you’ve done to the Galaxy Far Far Away with The Rise of Skywalker. You made this film, made your choices, and put it out into the world. I have no control over where you go from here, but as a person who has loved Star Wars since I was a child, I beg you to take some time to reflect before making another Star Wars film.

You’ve broken so many hearts. Mine was one.

Andrea ____

...my full name and address, blah blah, I live in Vermont

[grokebaby]

Stories of mine that I'm really diggin, but also on the fence about for various reasons

CONTAINS DISCUSSIONS OF CRIMINAL ACTS, SUCH AS MURDER. ALSO FIGHTING/WAR(??I think) ALSO SWEARING

1. Moon prison. So we have this super technologically advanced city. An empire. Magic and technology coexist here (relevant in relation to the characters). On the moon of this planet, they have the most advanced, inescapable prison where they put the absolute worst of the worst.

We have baddies like Trevor, a gangster who dominated the criminal underbelly of the city. Slum king. Mass murderer. And an absolute unit of a cat. Damon, an overprivileged asshole who, enabled by his rich parents, singlehandedly swindled the most banks out of the most money in a single day. Straight up freeloader, tax frauder who kept getting away with it for too long. Luke and Macy, agents of a secret service looking to expose the worst rot and corruption nestled in the government. Taken away after they stole a valuable magic item for research purposes, and to limit the stranglehold a well known magic user has on alot of politics behind the scenes.

One day, somebody makes the news. A new prisoner will be rocketed off to the moon again. Cue this 28yr old, frankly ordinary fella Jeremy (no relation to the demon). He's short, tubby, Jack of all traits but a master of none, and frankly, a really sweet guy. He doesn't seem to even mind being here. And he's getting housed in the same cell unit as these criminal masterminds. What'd he do? Murdered their current Supreme political leader in cold blood. Although he wouldn't snitch, people assume there must've been a few people who helped him up to the point he could do it. For the most part though, as he claims, he just did it by himself. (potential for comedy and political commentary, the latter of which I'm scared I would botch)

2. Once upon a time, there was a young demon who decided "Man, humans fucking suck, let's teach them a lesson, collectively" and managed to gather an army of demons who agreed with him. After a good while of terrorizing humans, they developed a special force team trained specifically to combat demons. There were battles and mindgames and all that stuff for a while, and then the demons disbanded and each went their separate ways because the guy who started it all decided "Fuck, they're good actually, this isn't worth all the bloodshed". His name's Riki. Two of his closest friends remained with him and now they just kinda hang out.

That was their context, now, this species of demons are all born with a special ability, or sets of abilities relating to each other. Another striking feature of them is that their skin is paper white, and with each new significant life experience, they gain bright red markings all over their body. They're humanoid, with horns. They can grow tails or wings, but might not. Mostly, they can't influence what ability they get, how it works or is triggered. It cannot be changed later on. This can be for the better, or for worse.

Riki's power is sort of like the hulk. When he gets angry, he becomes unreasonably strong and uncontainable, and it takes a while for him to come down from it all. He's always physically and mentally burnt out afterwards for days. He has a service dog for emotional support.

Himeko is the stealth. He's able to make himself nearly unperceivable to everyone else, and entirely silent. People get a tendency to ignore him because of this, causing him to easily become a shut-in and internalize things. He's also on the spectrum and struggles to open up. Anxiety causes him to go nonverbal in certain social situations. He wears a mask with red markings that are considered "respectable" and intimidating, because he's ashamed of his own.

Isaka is the Dr. He was sort of a living legend in his youth, and a skilled fighter. He got into a bad accident with the humans that disfigured him, which caused him to reconsider everything about this whole fight. During his recovery with the previous Dr at the time, he gained a more nuanced POV about the brutalities of war, and a respect for compassion. His power though, developed during his time on the battlefield, which complicates things in regards to healing.

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (8)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

Chapter 8: Same Link, Different Mettle | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 | Previous: Chapter 7 | Next: Chapter 9 | Masterlist

8 of ?

Alyon greeted you with black cliffs topped with green patches of grass that rose to the skies, seafoam that’s whiter than bone striped the deep blue seas, and golden patches of sand mingled with the lush green jungles resting at the foot of the mountains.

The Mantis found a nice spot to land on—by the mesa that overlooks the seaside town not bigger than the one in Hoga.

“This place is mesmerizing, [y/n],” Merrin commented.

“It’s not every day we get to beautiful places in the galaxy without the Empire chasing us,” Cere added.

“Yeah, well, hopefully this time—they won’t,” you abruptly stood up from the seat. “I’m gonna take a look around,”

You darted towards the room and got dressed, donning Cal’s Bracca scrapper poncho for the first time. With the Holocron gone, it felt like a load has been lifted from your shoulders—literally and figuratively—as you wore the straps of your bag. BD-1 hopped onto your shoulder as you leave the room.

“I don’t have to tell you again, [y/n],”

“Yes, Cere, I know. Don’t die. Or was it be careful?”

“Both, actually.”

“Gotcha,” she smiled.

It’s a perpetual question in Cere’s mind how you’re able to smile in the midst of all this predicament. Perhaps, it was an indication of your strength. After all that torment you’ve endured in Cal’s absence, you weren’t just back to normal—you’ve changed but for the better.

Compared to your pit stop earlier, trekking through the terrain was a breeze. The sight of the ocean lifted your spirits, the blades of grass tickled your calves, and the sun mildly shone above your head. Along the way, you frolicked in the wild plains—spinning and sprinting around with a child-like innocence—the flaps of your poncho felt like wings as the untamed winds blew to your direction.

There was no sign of the Empire in that seaside town, diverse peoples inhabit the settlement. Yet, the population seemed sparse for a sizable settlement. Your arrival was met with curious stares and vendors’ hollers. There’s no team of armed men marching to your general direction for the welcome wagon—nevertheless, you remained vigilant.

“Stay close, BD,” you muttered.

You approached a fruit stall and browsed; an animal penned inside a stable right next to the stall bleated to get your attention. Ever the curious friend, BD-1 perched onto the fence post and scanned the animal that was chewing on a stalk of hay.

“I knew you’d take a scan of it!” you teased.

BD-1 chirped, you translated it to him saying the animal’s name.

“That, my dear, is a Dimal,”

The fruit stall owner pointed at the tall, woolly animal, its jowls flopped and its rounded upright ears twitched with every chew of the hay stalk. You treated it to a Meiloorun fruit. You brought it close to the Dimal’s mouth, sniffing it first before gobbling it up in its mouth.

“You’re welcome,” you chuckled.

Even with its mouth full, it replied with a muffled grunt and continued gnawing on the large fruit in its seemingly narrow mouth.

“Haven’t seen you in these parts,” the same shop owner blurted, his native dialect was thick.

“I’m a traveler, I just got here,”

After shopping, you headed back to the ship, the old man was kind enough to slip in a few extra berries for the road. You expressed your thanks and went around the town some more—and there was a lively sound coming from up ahead.

Music.

“Do you hear that, BD?”

“Booo!”

“Come on, let’s go take a look,”

You followed the music, colorful notes emitted from the various instruments. A group of dancers performed in perfect synchronization in the middle of the square, their footwork followed the speed of the fifes, the bystanders that circled them clapped to the beat of the drum, and for the finale they cheered once the abrupt strum of all strings of the lute signals the climax of the song.

The dance concluded by a round of applause from the crowd, which you’ve included yourself, you try not to stand out so you immediately vanished from the scene—though it was such a nice sight. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen a street performance or festival.

—–

Three days of refuge in Alyon.

For once, things are seeming fine. But you know perfectly well this wouldn’t last, you’re still gripped with the anticipation of the Inquisitor’s arrival now that you’ve engaged with them—Cal, in particular.

You decided to tell your encounter with Cal through the Force with Cere, and you made sure you speak to her about it in great confidence.

“Cere, something strange happened on the day we left Tatooine and headed to Alyon,”

“And what’s that?”

You don’t even know where to begin explaining it.

“Well, it’s… how do I put it? I sort of saw Cal, here in the ship,”

“You mean, in meditation?”

You shake your head, “I wasn’t even meditating! I was doing something on the workbench and then I heard a voice call me, there was like a feeling that I can’t explain. At first, when I turned around there was nothing, so I thought I was just hearing things; but the second time around, I… I find Cal standing inside my bedroom!”

Cere’s head angled to the side, something about her expression alarmed you the same way you alarmed her with your story.

“Could it be…?” she muttered under your breath, though it was still within your earshot.

“Cere, what is it?”

Cere gradually stood up from the couch, “Hold on, I think I have something!”

She retreated to her own quarters where she rummaged through her rucksack. Shortly after, she reappears with a tome with a maroon leather cover, the metal accents along the corners and spines have tarnished, and the edges of the yellowed papers have chipped away due to age. She flipped through the pages looking for one specific section.

“Cordova learned about this phenomenon with the Force many years ago, while I was still his Padawan. Whatever he could find that pertains to it—he wrote it down, drew figures and diagrams, and added his own insights of his research!”

“What’s it called?”

“It’s a Force-Link. Look here,” she scooted closer beside you, pointing at the written paragraph on the page, her finger following the words as she read it out loud. “It’s said a phenomenon when the Force connects two Force-sensitive individuals, regardless of the distance in between, who have forged a dyad.”

In her excitement, Cere beat you to it—though, it felt like she sensed you’d ask about the last word in the paragraph—and flipped over the pages in search of the entry about Force dyads.

“Here,” she pointed at the first paragraph written underneath the header word, and read out loud word-for-word. “A connection that is forged with the Force between two Force-sensitive individuals.”

Cere skipped the longer metaphors and the personal diary entries that Cordova has written. More pages unraveled its mysteries and the woman impulsively read out loud—mostly for her own indulgence.

“Those who are out of the dyad could not see, feel, or hear the other side of the occurrence,”

This explains why the crew couldn’t hear Cal’s voice as you spoke to him during the first Force-Link encounter. Unfortunately, the explanation about manipulating it to either wielder’s whim—such as when will the connection start and when it’ll be severed—appear to be vague.

“Do Force dyads and Force-Links really seldom happen?”

“Yes, it’s quite rare. When I was a Padawan, I never met another Jedi who shared a dyad with another. But now, coming from you, I truly think Cordova was onto something back then. The bond you’ve shared with Cal factored the Force in allowing you to communicate.”

“I wonder if it’s another sign that he can be turned back to the light,” you thought out loud.

Apart from skimming Cordova’s manifests, strolling along the shoreline in barefoot, skimming rocks, seashells, and coral fragments that beached along the sand became a new pastime for you.

You enjoyed this new breed of solitude, but you’re still haunted by that mirage encounter of Cal back inside the Mantis. You find yourself secretly hoping that it would happen again.

On the other side of the galaxy, Cal has been poring page after page for any result about your Force-induced encounter. There were few resources found in his chambers in the command ship, there weren’t any valuable information found in the holotable’s databank either. The whole ordeal irritated him.

“How is it possible not a single manuscript was written about this!?” Cal roared, his mask did little in muffling out the sound, he punched the rim of the holotable in fury.

The last thing he thought of was retracing his steps, but the problem is: where does he even begin?

After all, it only happened abruptly and he had no control over it, because it felt like it came to him naturally. Cal theorized that it might be your own doing, but in reality, it wasn’t. He immediately dismissed that theory and went back to pinning down the Force as the primary culprit—frankly, it was the only logical culprit.

“Deep breaths,” he chanted to himself, doing exactly what he tells himself as he paced back and forth inside his room.

In the most uncanny of timings, that very same sensation returned to him—as if someone tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention—he abruptly turned around, he was surprised to see you standing inside the chambers with him.

“You’re quite elusive,” he initiated.

Your reaction to his appearance was understandable, your shoulders flinched while gaping at him. This is also the first time you saw him wearing a mask which muffled his voice, yet still coherent. Although the first time was docile, you can’t always count on him to be the same in the next.

You didn’t reply. You secretly fiddled the small seashell you’ve hid inside your fist while you conversed.

“I still don’t understand how and why this is happening to us. Can they see me?” he added.

“I don’t know…”

There was a stale air looming between you and the Eleventh Brother; the crashing waves of the sea and the machine hum spoke on each other’s behalf. You pursed your lips and your fist clenched tighter, the thin edge of the seashell dug into the flesh of your palm.

“You seem confident. Confident that I’ll never find you after you fled Cameegon like a coward.”

“I’m no coward! I’m not the one who gave in so easily!” you snarled.

“I take it that you’re not coming in quietly,” when he got the silent treatment from you, he continued. “Alright, then you’ll have to watch another innocent town be reduced into rubble like Cameegon. You wouldn’t want, would you? That’ll be a lot of blood in your hands.”

The Inquisitor noticed you flinch and he took pride in provoking you. He takes one step forward and you ignite your saber, having him at swordpoint.

“Ooh, feisty aren’t we?”

“You’ll never find me,” you hissed softly, although it was still within Cal’s earshot. “You’ll never turn me into what you’ve become!”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. We always find our way to each other, don’t we?”

He spoke the exact same words from his secret projection, a line that you knew too well and caught you off guard; a great thunderclap coming from the horizon startled you—the saber fumbled in your hand and the seashell fell from the other—and he disappeared from where he stood when you looked again.

The same went for the Eleventh Brother. The vibrant apricot seashell clattered on the polished black floor of his chambers. He took the delicate object into his hand and examined it. You unintentionally have given him a clue.

The boy Inquisitor rushed to the command ship’s bridge as fast as he can. His entrance alerted the attending officers; he approached the admiral and held up the shell to his face.

“I want this scanned. Trace its origin planet.”

The officer didn’t have the luxury to ask why and simply obeyed. The admiral took the shell from the young man’s hands and handed it over to one of the computer operators. In less than two minutes, the operator returned the shell along with a small datapad containing the findings.

“Sir, analysis traces it back to Alyon, a tropical planet in the Enca Sector, Ganiv System—it’s in the Outer Rim,” the admiral reported.

“Transmit the coordinates to my ship. Two TIE Fighters and an escort shuttle will come with me.”

“Right away, sir!”

The Eleventh Brother leaves the bridge on the way to the hangar.

“I have you now, [y/n].”

A storm was brewing that evening in Alyon. The thunderclouds have loomed closer to the shore in a dramatic speed. The winds have already picked up, the rain flew in like tiny knives pricking your skin, and the downpour caused the tide to rise earlier than usual. You hurried to getting on higher ground before the water has fully covered the shore.

You pushed through the raging winds, sheltering BD under the flap of your poncho. You blamed yourself for strolling farther from the ship, nightfall has reached you as a consequence, additionally, the town wasn’t any nearer either so it’s not an option.

“No…!” you gasped when the sky had gotten much darker, it doesn’t help with the storm joining in the problem.

The surroundings were all gray and visibility has dropped to zero. You barely see anything in this smokescreen of hail and fog. BD-1’s lights paled in the darkness. You stamped through the damp fields, the harsh winds swayed you farther with every step, but you fought it.

“Almost there, BD-1, hold on!”

Neither you nor BD-1 are safe, not until you’ve set foot into the Mantis. The growing sound of the TIE Fighters’ engine growls signaled their approach and a TIE Interceptor landed at a close distance from you. The hatch opened and out comes Cal, the Eleventh Brother. He stood upright in the midst of the storm, the bright red beam of his lightsaber lit up in the deep grayness.

You’re not going down without a fight.

Cal darted the air towards you, lightsaber at the ready, he found your block weak—it seems the storm has taken its toll on your body. However, he gave credit where it’s due—he admired your fighting spirit. You remained more on the defensive for the greater portion of the fight. The lightning afforded you short bursts of light to see your opponent better—rather, his next attack position.

“There! I see them!” Cere cried, peering through her binoculars and spotting two streaks of light dancing in the fog.

A TIE Fighter sends twin projectiles flying towards the Mantis, barely missing the dorsal fin of the ship but close enough to give it a rumble. Greez started the engine in a panic, Cere ordered him to stay low so they can still pick you up; although, that plan didn’t go so well.

The bitter cold of the wind disoriented you, the angry waves muted the hisses of lightsabers colliding with each other, your head was swirling, the veins on your temple throbbed, and your body had a battle of its own from within. Your lungs struggled as it sucked in cold air, fog wafted through your teeth as you dueled Cal.

The Eleventh Brother watched you charge towards him, ready for a dashed strike, and he prepared himself to time it just right.

Close enough!

You feel your entire body freezing up again, as if an icy gust blew throughout your entire being. The last thing you remember is a hearing a thunderclap mingle with the crash of the ocean, a flash of lightning glowed brightly in your puffy, heavy eyes and then suddenly darkness.

The Eleventh Brother caught you in his arms, carrying you bridal-style, and marched to the escort shuttle that he ordered to be included in his convoy.

“NO!!” Cere cried, a crack of lightning flashed as she witnessed him carry your unconscious body.

Your eyelids blinked the dancing lights away until your eyesight has adjusted to the brightness of the room. You gasped upon waking up, you weren’t sure how long you’ve been, but it felt like a long time. Your arms and legs had limited movement, later discovering that you’re strapped into an interrogation machine. Your heartbeat sped up tenfold, you surveyed across the room starting from the ceiling and then the middle part until you found a Stormtrooper standing beside silhouette across the room.

“Good, you’re awake,” the silhouette spoke, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Do you have any other orders, Eleventh Brother?”

“No, I’ll handle this myself. Leave us and wait for my orders,”

“Yes, Eleventh Brother.”

The Stormtrooper departs, leaving you and the Inquisitor in full privacy.

The red glowing accents of his mask lit up in the shadows, he blended perfect well in the darkness. You don’t know what to say back first, frankly, you don’t know what’s happening and how it came to this.

“Is that what they call you now: Eleventh Brother?”

Your snarky question got no reply from him. He removed his mask and placed it on the nearby podium. With that accessory gone, he massaged his jaw and craned his neck until you heard some bones popping.

“Yeah well, you can still call me Cal,” His roguish grin played along his face.

“Where are Cere and the others?”

“No idea,”

“You lie!”

“I never lie—especially to you,” he calmly said.

The young Inquisitor stepped into the light, revealing himself to you once more. There were a few inches dividing you from him. The white light shone over his hair, revealing the faint redness of his hair past the darker tints. You find that there was no terminal like the one in Nur; it was only him and you strapped into the contraption. Surely, this confused you, at the same time it relieved you that you’re spared of the electrifying torment—for now. No wonder the Stormtrooper was suggesting a better chamber.

“Where am I?”

“In an escort shuttle, en route to Koboth,”

“What is it that you really want, Cal?”

He clicked his tongue, rolled his eyes to the side, and then grinned as he spoke.

“Oh, I think you and I both know that already.”

For every word he said, he took one step closer, “I want the Holocron.”

You smirked, even chuckled, in retaliation. You teased him, inching your face closer just so he’ll hear better.

“I don’t have it.”

The small yet sadistic smile that painted his face melted away. Part of him doesn’t want to believe you, and the other does. With your natural talent for theatrics, it’s hard to decipher you—even for him.

Your smug face and arrogant sniggering was beginning to bother him. So much so that he was starting to think you’re not playing around.

“You’re wasting your time and energy, you know,”

“Maybe I’m not making myself clear,” he sighed. He starts to remove his glove.

Preemptively, you know what he’s about to do to you. Your heart pounded in the wildest pace; suddenly, his Force-ability that once fascinated you, now terrifies you. Cal ignored your desperate scrambling in the contraption, but it somewhat satisfied him.

“That’s my poncho,” he cooed and an evil smirked curled at the corner of his lip.

He reached for you, avoiding his touch is futile. His bare hand is now at a fingertip’s reach from the fabric, sinking away into the contraption wasn’t much help for you either. His grip clutched a portion in the middle—your shirt underneath it was caught in his hold as well—and sharp pangs of light jabbed his vision, a hollow rippling warm drummed in his ears.

“Good night, Cal…”

Your memories have ingrained into every thread, a vision plays out in his mind: he sees you snuggling up to the poncho in bed, keeping it close to your face as you slept, the nightly sobbing rung in his ears, and the warmth that the poncho gave you during cold, sleepless nights wrapped over his shoulders.

“This isn’t who you are!”

“All this time… and we never even got a look.”

That sudden shift of emotions startled him, but he kept his grip—physically and mentally. The Inquisitor wanted to extract as much as he can to exploit you. To him, it was a game; for you, it was a mental war. He witnessed your recent memories—he now knows that you opened the Holocron and took a glance of the contents, he heard the festival music from the town in Alyon, and then he saw the waves tugging away from the shoreline.

“You saw what’s inside the Holocron!” he exclaimed. He pushed further into you using his Psychometry. “What did you do with it?”

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!”

The boy Inquisitor was surprised to find that you’re able to fight him off—at least, his grip on your mind. When his influence is now absent in your body, your head hung low as you gasp for breath and fight off the throbbing pain in your head. His mischievous grin stretched from ear-to-ear.

“Interesting…”

He nestled your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting you upwards so you face him, your head bobbed slightly as you’re weakened by the infliction of his Psychometry. He inched closer to your face, the tips of your noses touched.

“My darling, you never cease to amaze me.” He teased you, the bottom of his lip softly brushed across yours while keeping an open grin, his stubble scratched your chin. Your indifferent expression met his roguish smirk as he pulled back inches away from you. A sadistic snicker hummed from his throat and he gently releases his hold on your face before leaving you in your cell.