Title: Not Me!
Author: MsLanna
Timeframe: About/After JAT
Characters: Luke Skywalker and -- how well do you know me?
Notes: Written for the June Challegne of The Literary Sketchpad:
1) You must focus your fic on any minor character from the movie or EU.
2) In this vignette, you should have your main character in some way interact with a major character from any of the movies.
3) Include in bold: some form of the words virulent, verdant, and vacant.
As you will find, I did not manage to get those words in.
The idea was not mine, either but that of my padawan DarthSathanos Thanks for letting me use it.
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Not me!
I hate Jedi!
The green blade hummed as he blocked a volley of shots; he spun around on his heels, aiming for the bolts of the other remote. The sabre was an amazing weapon, unlike anything in his arsenal. It hissed through the air, trailing hot ozone,while he spun in the crossfire. So far, only one bolt had broken through his defences, bouncing of his armour harmlessly.
Jedi are weak.
No, he had not given up on his armour. It was not that he felt vunerable without it or depended on its protection. Without it he just felt plain naked. And no matter what would become of him, he could not imagine giving it up.
Twisted-minded fools.
He had taken on the fighting lessons with more enthusiasm than expected, it was probably his natural fascination with weapons. Adding a lightsaber to his range was something he had never considered; Jedi were the enemy. And now, he was about to become one.
No, he decided, he would not. He would take the sabre, the fighting lessons and the enhancing techinques. He would leave Skywalker his moral mumbojumbo and making the galaxy a better place. That was not his job. The galaxy could take care of itself, just as he did. Just as he had always done.
His father had killed Jedi with his bare hands, nobody had ever wondered. His father hated Jedi, he hated Jedi. But he could not hate himself – or could he? So he would not be a Jedi. The remotes closed in, and with one curved sweep, he cut both in half.
No Jedi – no rules.
He understood now why his father had hated the Jedi so much. There was always a big label of right or wrong attached to everything. It made life a complicated affair. It made business impossible, it forced you to think in categories that made little sense where survival was concerned.
He poked the broken remotes with his foot, studying the neatly cauterised edges. The blade had sealed up the gashes before anything could leak, not even a single droplet of cooling liquid was on the floor. As a weapon, the lightsaber brought some very intriguing possibilities. He clipped the handle to his utility belt; it was almost invisible between the other gadgets.
But the training was noticeable; he felt the approaching presence long before he heard the footsteps. When he turned, he saw Master Skywalker walking up to him. The young man had a unique signature in the Force, not to mention that he burned like a supernova-beckon.
Skywalker glanced at the destroyed remotes on the floor shortly, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "So you want to leave."
It was not a question, neither was there any resentment in the statement. Skywalker lived with the hand he was dealt, though never without dealing out a handful of what he lived for. A dangerous mix; his disciples were proof of how addictive it was.
"Yes. I am no Jedi."
Skywalker shrugged microscopically, sadness emanating from him. "You are a good student, Boba, I hate to lose you."
The use of his first name irritated Fett. He had not heard it in years, but Skywalker knew no distance; if you were a Jedi, you were one of his own - accepted, adopted, annexed. Fett shrugged the thoughts off. They struck too close to home.
"And you are not worried about having me running loose in the galaxy?"
"No," the Jedi chuckled, "not at all. I know who you are, what you want, and what you will do. I neither fear you, nor for you."
"Because I'm a mercenary soul?" The certainty Skywalker displayed about him annoyed Fett. He was used to being the unpredictable variable, the dangerous oddity.
Skywalker smiled. "No, because you know what is right and wrong, even if you don't act on it." He laid his hand on Fett's shoulder. "The way of a Jedi is never easy, and sometimes it just takes a little longer to accept what is true."
The casual touch irritated Fett, too. It was not something he was used to, and probably a symptom of what was most annoying about Skywalker. He simply embraced you, offered to share all he had, and one day you had stayed so long, you just couldn't disappoint him any longer. A neat trick, but he was raised to see through things. He would not fall for it.
"I am who I am, a bounty hunter - the best bounty hunter." It was a reputation he intended to keep.
"Becoming a Jedi is not easy. I had to face my father before I was ready to accept my fate. To take on his legacy, to follow his footsteps."
Fett raised a brow. "You intend to rule the galaxy?"
"No," the young man laughed. "I am a Jedi, as my father was before me. Before he lost his way and became Darth Vader. I am what he would have liked me to be. All I ask is that you think about it," he added accompanying Fett on the way to his ship.
Fett looked at the young man, considering how different he was from the man that was his father. Dealings with Lord Vader had been precarious, but rewarding. The Dark Lord's threatening presence stood in stark contrast to Skywalker's self-assured trust. It was difficult to put those two into relation with each other.
But then, so are you, it occurred to him. There was not much of his father's legacy in him; only the features were the same, the prowess, and precision. He walked in silence, considering his situation. He was no Mando'a; his father had even been Mandalor. So much for legacy, for following footsteps. He was a bounty hunter, but that was not all his father had ever been.
He laid his hand over the sabre clipped to his belt. What if he was supposed to? If this had only happened to bring him back onto his way: to become a Mando'a. It was an option he had not really considered yet. It entailed too many rules for his liking. But he could handle rules, he certainly could handle breaking them.
Glancing at Skywalker he shook his head slightly. If there was a community waiting in his future, it would be the Mando'ade, not the Jedi. The Slave I came into view, bringing calm into his thought. He would not be Vader, but neither would he be Skywalker. He would be Boba Fett, bounty hunter par excellence, Mando to-be; father and caretaker of his own.
"Just remember that you will always be welcome here," Skywalker said, embracing him shortly.
The hug should have irritated Fett, but he was too deep in thought as went up the ramp, starting up the Slave I automatically.
Would his children be Force sensitive? The trait could run in families. His children could be Darth Vader or - he watched the disappearing form through the viewport - or they could be Luke Skywalker. He clenched his fists. That would be something to decide later. He had other things to do first, maybe he never found a wife, anyway. But if they did have children, he would teach them, that was the Mando way. Skywalker was almost out of sight. Fett stared at the retreating Jedi. And if they were force sensitive, who would teach them to control that? He punched the starting sequence.
Not me!