-Chapter 1-
Anakin watched Obi-wan from the corner of his eye, a passive nonchalance in his demeanor. It wasn't so different from his usual lackadaisical poise that told of confidence and underlying physical prowess, the only difference was right now it was meant to be intimidating. The mercenary armor and rifle he slung over his shoulder added to the front, though it was hardly an empty display. He was ready to spring into action with only a fraction of a second's notice.
On the surface he seemed uninterested in the unfolding conversation that struck between Obi-wan and the small-time Crime Lord, but his senses were stretched out in all directions. He could hear and recall word for word the discussion that was taking place, he could feel the gentle waves of vibration that each living being surrounding him emanated through the force. He could feel their hearts beating, their minds ticking away on their own, subjectively trivial matters. Just as clearly he could sense Obi-wan's growing impatience.
"If I am to enter into an agreement with you, I insist on seeing the production floor." Obi-wan ground out haughtily, a testy look on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, making sure to leave his fingers splayed out to showcase his collection of precious jeweled rings.
The way Obi-wan played his role was laughable for many reasons. While the innate entitlement of a wealthy black market businessman was not befitting of him the moody snappish demeanor was completely, and that was where the similarities ended.
Anakin knew he detested the showy rings and fine shimmersilk clothes. Even so far outside the Order Obi-wan still clung to their minimalist lifestyle in both form and function, rarely straying far from their hallmark shades of gray and brown. His temperament tended to be equally cold and one dimensional.
Obi-wan was a stern, quiet man. Anakin had to strain his memory to recall the last time he had smiled- truly smiled. Even when he did he never felt it in Obi-wan's aura, which also tended to be bleak as his fashion choices.
Despite his emotional distance one thing the man did possess was a sense of humor, however close to his chest it was kept. Such was the manner in which Obi-wan seemed to carry out his life- not so much in secrecy as he was shrouded by unspoken things and brooding emotions that put a tangible wall between himself and everything else. Over the years Anakin hoped he would become the exception to those impenetrable defenses. He would have to keep on hoping.
"That is an unorthodox request, Count Myrvon," Safia said, reclining in her gilded seat that looked more like the throne of a Queen than that of a petty, low-level Cartel ring leader.
Safia had created an impressive mark on the underworld during her short time rising up within its bowels. It was the only reason she made it onto Obi-wan's scope of awareness. Or rather, not her, but the stolen data she possessed. As war cast its net across the stars, ensnaring the galaxy, great opportunity presented itself to those who watched for it. Safia had been waiting shrewdly and so far it had paid off.
So far.
It wasn't uncommon for the thirst for power to blind those who sought after it. There was a fine line between climbing up through the ranks and biting off more than one could chew. Pirating small arms shipments was one thing. Stealing sensitive information for blackmail on a Senator was another.
Rather than get the Senate and their Jedi involved for fear of compromising the Senator's good standing, a deal was brokered- in Anakin's opinion a rather bad deal. If he had any say in the matter he would have driven up the price or rejected the job altogether.
It was uncharacteristic for Obi-wan to take any job that didn't directly benefit beings in need. With a war on, jobs like that weren't hard to find. The Republic hardly had the resources to help everyone who needed it. Support was always funneled to the worlds that contributed more resources to the Galactic economy. Other worlds were left with scraps or nothing at all, and that was their preferred area of expertise. Just because they no longer subscribed to Jedi dogma didn't mean they had abandoned their morals, Obi-wan reminded him time and time again.
Just because they had morals didn't make them a charity, either, Anakin told him. Still Obi-wan refused to budge on the issue with the strangely vague explanation of owing someone a favor. When Anakin pressed the matter again Obi-wan's story changed, saying some words about a friend in the Senate.
Anakin found it difficult to restrain the shock he felt when Obi-wan claimed to have any friends at all, especially among politicians. It had been just the two of them for nearly as long as Anakin could remember and it was no well-kept secret that Obi-wan detested politics. Of course, expressing that earned him a prompt, unveiled look of disdain, as many of the things Anakin said tended to coax from him.
Conceding to Obi-wan's direction they both spent the last two months pouring their efforts into posturing themselves for this moment. It irked him that Obi-wan easily brushed aside his feelings on the matter. Mostly the fact that he refused to arrange for better compensation was what got to him. There were a few times Obi-wan agreed to jobs like this in the past. They were near to destitute at the time and hurting for credits. He was a fierce negotiator when it came to settling terms, and on this job, they would barely break even. It didn't make sense.
Anakin wondered what the Senator had over Obi-wan's head that would let him be bullied to take a price so low. If he was getting more than a 30% cut, he might not have been as bothered, but that had been Obi-wan's terms from the very beginning. Everything past operational cost was to be split 70/30. When they started this life Anakin was still very young and hardly cared. Just to stay by Obi-wan's side and continue to learn from him was enough. Now that he was well past boyhood he contested the issue multiple times, only to be shot down.
"You're still my apprentice, Anakin. And you still have much to learn."
Just the thought made Anakin's focus skew slightly, made his jaw clench with anger that he told himself was only mild irritation. He wondered if there would ever be a day that Obi-wan saw him as an equal. As jobs came and went it felt more like an excuse than a reason to withhold financially from Anakin, what he felt was rightfully his. This most recent job only made those feelings come to a head.
"I need to see that you are capable of producing the amount of product I require," Obi-wan insisted, still in beguiled deliberations with the lowly self-proclaimed underworld Queen. "If that's too much trouble I can happily take my business elsewhere," he said with an air of snobbishness that Anakin sensed he was starting to enjoy too much.
"No, it's no trouble," Safia assured him, a tinge of worry edging its way into her words.
Every being had a weakness, Obi-wan had taught him. A little pressure on the right spot and anyone could be broken or swayed. It was even easier when motivations were so obvious. With Saifa they may as well have been written on her face. She was gaining reputability in the underworld but still relied heavily on word of mouth. A single disgruntled man with enough money in his pocket could send her spiraling off the throne she desperately clung to. Obi-wan and Anakin knew it, Safia did, too. After all, it was exactly what they were counting on and they were rarely wrong.
"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to trouble you," Obi-wan spat with a sneer.
"Count, I assure you," Safia stood, standing with a graciously outstretched arm. Her face was painted over with mock kindness. Anakin could feel hatred boil inside of her as well as Obi-wan's amusement for it. "Let me give you the tour myself."
"Guard," Safia waved towards Anakin. He wasn't just any guard, but her private enforcer- one of two others that happened to fall ill the day prior making him the only one able to stand guard for her now.
Without further instruction Anakin followed behind Safia while she guided a now silent Obi-wan down the hallway from what served as her office to the warehouse beyond. It was a shockingly large operation, at least their stockrooms seemed to give off that impression. The numbers on her datapad told other stories, he learned, after his first week on the job.
"What do you think, Count?" Safia asked with a counterfeit smile, her shoulders stiff and rigid.
"I said production floor, not warehouse," Obi-wan said sharply. "I don't think you know who you're dealing with," he added open-endedly, a poorly veiled threat.
"I didn't say the tour was over, you misunderstand," she said graciously. "This way."
Her movements were graceful but her patience was running thin as she walked towards the corridor that separated the warehouse from the high-security complex where various spices were manufactured, high-value items were kept, and prisoners were held. When skimming the blueprints Anakin thought it poor strategy to have so many key assets all in one place. Since it only made their job easier he wasn't complaining. He was glad for her overconfidence.
Anakin had memorized the layout of the high-security sector. He knew that the cleanroom leading to the production floor lay beyond the double doors in front of them and that there were two sets of guards inside at all times. He knew the hall leading off to the right of those doors led to a row of holding cells, less guarded than the production floor. He knew the names of all prisoners held there, and which cells they occupied.
Their objective lay down the hall to the left, hidden behind a triple measure security system. The vault was only coded to be opened by Safia, herself. Right now she was leading them both through the double doors to the cleanroom where they could look out at the workers in their masks and gowns, breaking down and processing spice to sell on the black market. They were little more than slaves, pressed into indentured servitude, working for wages so low they would never break free. Anakin's gut tied into knots at the sight. There was little that irked him more than seeing beings treated like objects- expendable resources.
"Do you feel reassured, Count?" Safia asked sweetly.
Obi-wan stood with his hands on his hips and gave a curt "hmph." Not disapproving, but not impressed.
"Is it a deal?" Safia pressed insistently.
"I feel we ought to renegotiate some terms of our agreement," Obi-wan said in a snobbishly thoughtful voice. "But seeing your facility has eased some of my concerns."
"I see," Safia answered, visibly grinding her teeth as Obi-wan cast his indifferent gaze over the production floor. "Well let's go back and talk about that, then."
With a brow raised skeptically, Obi-wan turned and left the cleanroom, leading his own way down the halls. With a huff Safia followed and Anakin turned in pursuit as a loyal guard would.
This. All of the setup and posturing during the last two months finally cumulated to this moment.
Obi-wan turned down the hall towards the vault with the same haughty air about him, the same stiff rigid spine that made him look like he had a stick lodged up his ass. He was holding true to his character so well Anakin couldn't help but admire him for it. Obi-wan always had been a great actor, fitting well into any role a job might call for. Anakin thought he could convince someone to pay credits to be swindled further, without a single touch of force persuasion.
"Where do you think you're going?" Safia barked, casing down the hall after him. Obi-wan did not turn yet, Anakin knew he was waiting. She was just three- two steps away from entering a surveillance blindspot a few feet away from the door. Past that, there were no cameras in the vault. Anakin continued to follow, her ever-present loyal guard.
Not a fraction of a second after she was eclipsed out of sight from the security cam, the rigid posture in Obi-wan's spine melted into fluid action. He still wore the same hideously bright colored clothes, the same gaudy rings, his hair was still plastered in a repulsive, supposedly fashionable style, but he looked different. He looked like himself. It was just another backdrop to admire the man's acting skills against.
"Wha-" Safia started, before Obi-wan's hand clamped down hard over her mouth, shoving her against the wall, keeping her hands from reaching her sidearm.
Anakin walked over casually, taking the blaster from the holster on her hip and aiming it at her chest with equal disregard. A sharp look of betrayal burned in Safia's eyes. Anakin found himself hardened to it. He and Obi-wan had tricked and swindled hundreds of beings during their time together. It was just part of the job. At a time that looked bothered him, stung on the fabric of his soul. Obi-wan told him it was the burden of a pure heart but that it would get easier with time, and it had.
Safia struggled and snarled against Obi-wan but he held her steady under his grip. "Shh, listen, this doesn't have to be difficult," he said in his own voice this time- stern, commanding, yet calm.
She ceased to fight against him and listened, as all tended to do when Obi-wan spoke with such passive authority. "You've stolen something from a very powerful Senator. I'm going to take it back. No one has to know. You can retain your dignity, your operation, everything," he explained gently. "Just give us the disc, it's all we want."
Anakin could see the expression in her eyes change as she thought it over. Obi-wan loosened his hold on her mouth slowly, giving her a chance to speak. Her eyes darted between the two of them with a vulnerable quality.
"How do I know I can trust you?" She asked critically.
"You don't." Anakin offered up cooly.
"You'll just have to take a leap of faith," Obi-wan added with a small humored smile.
"And if I don't?" She bit out defiantly.
"Do you want to find out?" Obi-wan taunted, sending shivers down Anakin's spine. He knew Obi-wan would never harm someone over a job like this. Really he went out of his way to never kill or maim if he could help it. But his voice- his voice would make you think he was capable of cold-blooded murder. Obi-wan was the only being he knew who could turn a sweet whisper into something so frightening.
Safia swallowed the fear well, it did not touch her face but only shone faintly in her eyes. Anakin could feel it surround her, coil inside of her. He felt Obi-wan's slight satisfaction for it, too.
"Fine." She said, caving.
Obi-wan released her from his grip while Anakin remained in the hall, blocking her path with the blaster's muzzle still aimed straight for her heart. She shot him a wicked glance.
"Is that necessary?" She spat.
"Quite," Obi-wan answered curtly. "Go on, then. You'll find I'm not a patient man."
Anakin couldn't help but smile at that. Nothing could be closer to the truth. Shooting them both a glare that could kill Safia turned for the door to the vault and quickly opened it. Before she could walk inside Obi-wan caught her arm, pulling her back.
"We'll take it from here," Obi-wan said as Anakin stepped inside, quickly honing in on the disc and stashing it away in his belt.
"Got it," Anakin said, relief rolling off him in waves. He was so ready to be done with this kriffing mission, he couldn't wait to get it over with.
"Excellent," Obi-wan said smoothly, his eyes glinting with unspoken praise. "Now close up the vault and you'll show us out," he ordered, returning his gaze to Safia.
Silently she did as she was told. Anakin took the clip from her blaster and replaced it with an empty one, returning the weapon to her. She took the lead, walking inches ahead of Obi-wan while Anakin trailed after her.
Anakin sensed a shift in the force before anything happened, mere seconds before Obi-wan shot him a grave stare. I feel it, too. Anakin spoke through their bond. He could see in his eyes that Obi-wan heard him.
The door to the warehouse opened, but their awareness already stretched out past the moment and into the next. They sensed the blaster bolts raining down on them before a single trigger was pulled. Lightsabers were always reserved as a last resort. They were the only wanted men in the galaxy who had any skill to use them, and every time their use painted a target on their heads that was hard to evade after the fact.
There must have been some oversight in the security controls on the safe, some sort of mechanism that was able to alert Safia's security force. Anakin groaned inside himself. This mission wasn't worth it, but it was too late now. They were in too deep. The only way out was through. It didn't matter that it was Obi-wan's job to dig up information on the security protocols, though it did make Anakin angrier. The thought of being treated like a youngling while Obi-wan could screw up so badly to put them in a bind like this stirred unpleasantly inside him. They would talk about this but now was not the time.
Anakin's hand reached for his saber but before he could get to it Obi-wan barked out a stiff "No-", to which he heeded.
Just before the blaster fire was imminent Obi-wan grabbed Safia and held her tight against him as a shield while Anakin stood behind the both of them. The future changed, bolts dissipating before they even existed.
"Shoot and she dies," Obi-wan called out, scanning over the warehouse in which he saw at least twenty armed men staring them down.
"No one has to get hurt if you call your men off now." Obi-wan murmured into her ear.
Another premonition surged through Anakin as clear as if it were unfolding already. In mere seconds it would be. How come Obi-wan hadn't sensed it? Anymore Anakin always felt steps ahead of him most times- even being a second faster could mean life or death. But still, he was not fast enough.
Hidden in Safia's sleeve was a short vibro-blade that they both had overlooked, and now she brandished it quickly, jabbing back and stabbing Obi-wan in his stomach before Anakin had a chance to act. Safia scampered away and blaster fire was imminent yet again.
Obi-wan held at the gushing wound, brushing aside the pain. Anakin knew it took great effort, he could feel it, but he was always amazed at what he was able to work past while making it seem almost effortless. The pain wasn't going to incapacitate Obi-wan, but bloodloss would make quick work of it.
Anakin pulled his saber into his grip, igniting it before the first wave of bolts rained down on them both. Deflecting the fire was second nature to him- a Padawan's task.
"Anakin," Obi-wan groaned, half frustrated that they now had revealed themselves, half in dismay with himself for letting that woman wound him so badly. He had fallen to his knees now, faint with bloodloss.
"Just hang on, Obi-wan," Anakin called back, half in agony over the man's injury, half furious with him for getting them in this mess, to begin with.
The deflected bolts pinged back with deadly accuracy, killing most of the guards if not maiming them. This was not the way they liked to do business, but there were few options left to them at this point. Besides, Anakin couldn't deny that he wanted to break that witch's neck for what she did to Obi-wan, but she was long gone. He could take his anger out on the guards, instead.
"Don't… kill them all Anakin... let it go." Obi-wan said weakly as he collapsed on the ground, his hand falling away from his wound limply as dark red poured out.
At that moment shame eclipsed him. The last few deflected bolts struck at knee level, and with a sweep of force Anakin pulled their rifles out of reach. He felt a voice inside himself stained with remorse. I'm sorry Master. He hardly ever referred to Obi-wan as his Master anymore, but in moments of teaching and scolding, Anakin couldn't help but feel like a Padawan who had let his Master down.
With all the guards on hand incapacitated and a fresh wave on the way, Anakin probably had five minutes to get himself and Obi-wan to their ship. Even less if he wanted to break atmosphere without being shot at. He reached down, slinging Obi-wan's deadweight over his shoulders and ran.