#hux should learn to play the saxophone

[ofcorsetstrash]

Between Scenes - Part 3

This is... less of a deleted scene from my weirdly epic kylux fic and more of a ‘I have no idea where to fit this in’ scene. So, yeah, consider this as actually happening. You know. Between You and Me.

Oh, and in case any of you were wondering about how much I’ve been borrowing from Trigun for this fic...

Wast Liorpan wiped at a stubborn sticky spot on the bar, hoping a little elbow grease would be enough. When it wasn’t, he shrugged and moved on, It wasn’t like his usual clientele would care. A small sigh escaped him. It had been a further step down than he thought it would be, moving to the wild and lawless Outer Rim. Guess that was the price of getting lazy with the less legal side-business. Next thing you know, people are yelling things like ‘jail time’ and ‘thirty-year-sentence’.

The bell hung over the door rang, which wasn’t terribly unusual. Even in the middle of the day, like this. Some people liked to get their drinking done nice and early. This person, though, didn’t really look the type. Tall, black robes, hood over his head and cowl pulled up to hide his mouth and nose. Or maybe to block out the smells outside. Skulked into the room like an awkward, gangly carrion-bird.

Wast set down the glass he’d been cleaning. “What can I get for you, stranger?”

The man dropped his cowl and hood, carefully seating himself at the end of the bar furthest from the door. He looked around the empty bar, shaking long black hair out of his face. Wasn’t a bad-looking face, either. Even with that scar.

“Do you have any ice cream?”

Wast blinked a few times. “Any… ice cream?”

The stranger smiled and nodded. “I haven’t had ice cream in… in years.”

Wast was about to laugh in his face and shoo him out of the bar, when he remembered. “Actually, yeah. I do. Use it for mixing up those slushy drinks the Yaroshians like so much.”

“Great!” The stranger was all but beaming, child-like glee bursting out of him. “Could you put some of that purple lindenberry sauce on top?” He pointed at the jar on the shelf.

Wast dug a wide glass out from under the counter and located a spoon. “Do you want sprinkles on it, too?”

“You have sprinkles!?” The kid asked. He must have been a kid. Looked like he might not even be old enough to shave regularly, with that smile lighting his face up like that.

“No.”

“Oh. You were joking.”

Wast got the ice cream dished up and set it down. Eager as he was, the stranger took only a very small spoonful at first, almost daintily taking his first bite. Wast was about to return to cleaning, but he noticed tears running down his customer’s face.

“Um…” Usually this didn’t happen until after several Coruscanti Specials. “Are you… alright?”

“Yes,” the kid sniffled. “I just… it’s been awhile since I had ice cream. It’s better than I remember.”

“Do you have a name, stranger?”

The kid nodded. “Kylo.”

“Just Kylo?”

Something dark tugged at the corner of the stranger’s mouth, and suddenly Wast wasn’t so sure about how old he was. “Yeah. Just Kylo.”

Wat gathered up a few glasses and ran them back to the sanitizer. When he got back the kid was still savoring a spoonful like a good round of geppers on a cold night.

“So,” said Wast, feeling more comfortable now and rather wanting to gossip. “Did you hear about that…” He’d heard the news from a Wookiee bounty-hunter, and wasn't sure how the word was supposed to translate into galactic basic. “Killing-Star?”

The kid, Kylo, lowered his spoon and stared at Wast. “Killing-Star?” he repeated, disbelief in his voice.

Wast couldn’t tell if that was because Kylo hadn’t heard or because he was saying it wrong, so he gave it another stab. “Killer Star?”

The kid set his spoon down. “What about it?” he asked.

“Oh,” Wast shrugged one side of his body. “Didn’t you hear? It blew up and now the government is a mess and a bunch of people are upset.”

“I hate to think what that’ll do to the economy.” Kylo said, his voice bland.

After that, Wast just let him eat in peace, content with his attempt at social interaction this early in the day.

*_*_*_*

“Hey. That guy. How long has he been sittin’ there?”

Wast tensed. The slavers sounded like they’d already been around to old Thristan’s place and drunk him out of business for the evening. They sounded like they were eager. Eager for a fight, or maybe to add to their collection that followed them quietly, eyes downcast.

“Beats me,” one of the slavers grumbled. Alarm rising in his throat, Wast realized that they were talking about the kid. Kylo, he’d said his name was. Still sitting quietly at the far end of the bar, nursing his third dish of ice cream. Damn. Wast kept an old Corellian blaster under the bar, but it was mostly for show, to scare some off the big talkers.

“You bitch!” One of the slavers suddenly roared, backhanding one of the girls behind him. “You were looking at him! You know I have to punish you, now!” He stood and slapped the girl again, sending her sprawling to the ground. “Disrespect! I can’t stand it when I’m disrespected!”

This was already looking to turn ugly. Wast looked down at the glass he was cleaning. It was already clean, but he didn’t stop trying to get it even cleaner.

A loud clack. “Alright, Boaz, that’s enough,” said another slaver, his voice calm, even bored.

“But she was lookin’ right at him!” argued the brutish Boaz. Wast wasn’t sure what species this guy was, but it sure wasn’t pretty to look at.

The other slaver, Wast thought he must be their leader, laughed a little. “You don’t stand a chance against him, anyway. Too bad. He looks like one of those ladykiller types. The kind the women all go after.” Wast finally looked up as the leader stood slowly, stretching his arms over his head. “Well, Mister Handsome, that’s real cruel of you. You see, these girls are too delicate. They have nothing. No families, no lovers, no pasts. And there you sit, making ‘em think of what they don’t have. Now I gotta take the time to help them forget it again, won’t I…”

Wast glanced down to the other end of the bar. The stranger, Kylo, gave no indication that he’d even heard anything from the slavers. Still a placid look on his face as he raised another spoonful of slowly melting cream to his mouth.

The big ugly brute growled, his hand drifting to the blaster at his hip. “Are you listening, slick? What, do you think you’re too good for us? Hey, PUNK!” The slaver drew and shot his weapon faster than Wast could blink. When he did blink, he saw Kylo blinking, as well, looking rather startled at the sheared-off end of his utensil. I’ll have to repaint that wall, Wast heard himself think. The slavers all chuckled, shifting as they smelled blood in the water.

Kylo looked up at Wast then, still no emotion on his face. “Could I have another spoon?”

“ASSHOLE!” A flurry of blaster shots flashed across the bar, and Wast ducked, tried to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible.

Quickly, though, the noise died down, and Wast glanced up, fearing the worst. There sat Kylo, still, blaster holes in the wall next to him, his dark eyes finally fixed on the slavers. He looked… bemused.

“It isn’t wise to be hasty,” he murmured. “I was already planning on killing all of you later today, but…” Kylo stood, slowly, and seemed taller than he had an hour ago. The shadows around him seemed darker, too, but that must have been just a trick of the light. “Why is it you insist upon meeting your death sooner?”

The big, ugly slaver laughed. “You don’t make any sense! Just talking a bunch of nonsense…”

But Kylo was walking forward then, his eyes unblinking as he stepped closer to the slaver. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter,” he whispered. The slaver blinked rapidly. He hadn’t expected the scrawny person eating ice cream in the corner to tower over him, it looked like. Then, he raised his hand in the air.

Much to his own surprise, it seemed.

“Oh,” Kylo said with a grin. “We have a volunteer. How wonderful.”

“What the- What the hell are you doing to me!” the slaver screamed.

“It’s simple. You’re the first to die.”

Wast cowered behind the bar, watched in horror as the slaver’s limb twisted, seemingly of it’s own accord. The creature screamed, then screamed louder as his own fingers dug into the flesh between his ribs. Wast had to close his eyes, had to look away and try not to lose control of his stomach. The terrible screaming and the sound of tearing flesh continued for only about ten seconds, according to his chrono. It felt much longer.

“Boaz!” the leader shouted. Wast glanced up just in time to see him pull out his blaster, murder on his face as he stared down Kylo.

It wasn’t Kylo that he shot, however. Everyone in the room watched as, at the last second, he turned, firing his own blaster into another slaver’s chest. The dead man could only gape in silent shock at his leader as he crumpled to the floor. Before anyone could even think, all of the small band of slavers had their blasters drawn. All of them pointed at each other.

“What the hell are you doing!” The leader was screaming, now, his eyes full of fear like he’d probably never known in his life. Kylo only tipped his head slightly, that dark smile still dancing around his mouth and seeping out his eyes. “You bastard! DAMN YOU! BASTARD!”

“No!”

“Please stop!”

“I don’t wanna die!”

But none of them could move, suspended as they were, held captive by… by some kind of force…

Wast had to look away. He had to. Couldn’t watch this horrific display of terror and death as one by one the slavers began to shoot each other. Their screams rose in pitch, panic painting the room red, until only one lone voice remained. That voice cried out in terror, and was suddenly silenced.

The dead quiet was broken only by a very small scraping sound. Wast looked up to see the tall, dark monster gently placing a credit chit on the bar.

“That should cover the ice cream,” Kylo’s voice was deceptively soft. Deceptively bloodless. “And the cost of body disposal. Plus a little extra, for the inconvenience.”

~~~*****~~~