Actis walks with quick, even steps toward Jabba's palace. The rogue slave struggles in her bindings, but he knows she can't get away. By the time he's allowed entrance into the palace, he's dragging her across the floor, ignoring her kicking and screaming.
Most people don't bother watching. The slaves don't even flinch, knowing better than to get distracted. He meets Krrsantan's eyes. The Wookie doesn't bother greeting him back, but his fingers do flex on his bowcaster.
"Jabba will be most happy to see you." A silver protocol droid meets him just past one of the checkpoints. The Gamorrean guards don't bother checking him, which Actis finds funny. They were so pressed about him carrying three blasters last time he came around. Maybe his bounty has given him enough respect to bypass that hassle.
Actis follows the protocol droid up until they're about to enter Jabba's room. As soon as the door opens, Elem fights like a beast. "Sleemo! I'll kill you for this!" She hisses, her teeth bared. She pulls at her chains, no longer caring if they break her skin. Actis signs, the sound hissing from his vocoder, and he lifts a single-handed blaster, aiming it directly at her chest. He switches it to stun with a flick of his finger and shoots without looking. She drops.
This time, all eyes do land on him as he walks in. Bounty hunters, slaves, and performers alike. The music lowers into background music and the dancing slaves shuffle out of his way, nearly tripping over themselves to do so. He notices the fear in their eyes too. One green Twi'lek shows her awe openly, something she only gets away with because Actis commands more attention.
Kitster's stand is positioned near the musicians and three partner hunters stand in front of it, more focused on their drinks than him.
Jabba's laugh fills the room, deep and loud. "Ah! I was getting worried you died." The Huttese isn't as slurred as it usually would be when he watches his dancers, but that will be solved quickly with the puffs of smoke escaping his lips.
Once the protocol droid translates, Actis shows the chains off with a tilt of his head. "Elem Jifo, as you requested." He hands the chain to Jabba's second hand, Bib. The Twi'lek looks it over, his sharp teeth flashing as he grins at his boss. They don't need to exchange words. Jabba nods slowly, his own wide smile beginning to form.
"Thank you." Bib nods as four guards take Elem, dragging her away from the room. Actis glances at them and waves a finger from under his cape. He feels the force suggestion work, their minds now linked to his own. Like an unwanted tab on his datapad, he shoves it to the side for now. "We will be replacing her slave chips." Bib continues, his voice eerily smooth. "Your service will be repaid shortly." And with that, the Twi'lek slips away into a side room to gather his credits.
"Stay a while." Jabba waves a hand, gesturing around the room. "You've earned my hospitality. Any slave you want is yours to take."
Actis grits his teeth under the vocoder. He was hoping Jabba wouldn't offer anyone to him. He'd rather get things moving along as soon as possible, but to refuse would be suspicious. So, Actis nods gratefully, then files himself away to the darker corners of the room. The performance continues not long after and Anakin gets one look at J'Quille, a Whiphid hunter, before the ceature leaves Jabba's room. Good.
Going straight for Kitster, Anakin nods at the trio of hunters, barely getting a reply back. "Something strong." He tells Kitster and the man quickly reaches around him for a variety of drinks, mixing them together with quick skill.
"Long day?" Kitster asks, his eyes duller than usual. Jabba's Palace does that.
"You could say that." Once the drink is ready, Actis takes it, removing his vocoder to slip. It's water, thankfully. Anything real and Anakin's system would likely shut down within seconds.
Karking Keno-
Actis spits his drink out, making a show of coughing, then slamming it on the bar table. "What the kriff is this?!" He demands. Few eyes follow him, but just enough to make the bartender flush.
"You said strong." Kitster argues. "And I gave you strong."
"Well, give me something better, Slave!" The word makes Anakin's blood go cold, but at least he doesn't stutter it out like he worried he might. Kitster's eyes flash for only a second before the act is back in place and he's quickly making something new, reaching under the bar itself for a jogan fruit slice.
This time, Actis takes the drink without sipping and repositions his vocoder, walking away from the stand. He settles beside Boba Fett, taking in the familiar Mandalorian armor. The boy's still young, younger than most other bounty hunters, but no one else would know with the bulk of his beskar armor. Anakin only knows because he's seen him before. Given, it was almost seven years ago; but that changes very little.
A minute or two passes before Actis speaks in a low tone. "So?" He waits for a reply, almost not expecting one.
"No thanks." Boba rumbles back. "I'd rather lose an employer than my life."
Disappointing but not unexpected. It was hard enough to get this topic out to Boba in the first place, but convincing him to join them would be near impossible. So, Actis accepts it without a fight. "Should I have packed an extra blaster?" 'Will you become a problem for us', is the hidden question.
Boba shakes his head. "I've got another bounty to catch." It's as close to a truce as Actis will get and he lets Boba Fett slip away, out of Jabba's room. It's a shame, seeing someone who walked a similar path to Anakin heading in that same direction. It's almost funny. Both were born in unnatural circumstances, they both lose their beloved parent and lifestyle. Now, they're hunters with very different goals.
If only he had known during the war, or even on Geonosis. He could've helped Boba.
But what's done is done. It's taken a very long time to accept his past mistakes and move on.
A glance into the guards' minds tells him that Fiolla is now awake and ready for their next step. She's down in the lower reaches of the palace and as soon as he sees J'Quille enter her room, the plan is ready to spring. With a push of the force, all four guards die with a quick snap. Darkness creeps into Anakin's mind, aching to be used. And for this mission, he reaches back.
"I'll have another jogan slice!" He shouts and the whole room falls into chaos.
Wald remembers Ani. He and Kister were his idols back in the day, so strong and brave. They'd get into just enough trouble to keep their sad lives interesting. And despite their age difference -Ani and Kitster being three years older than him- they never treated him differently. They never thought he was stupid or too weak to see the same things they did. They never mistook him for Greedo, the other Rodian among their age group. They made him feel special, if not a little dangerous.
It seems that Wald didn't quite understand the extent of their trouble-making back then. Now, he's been let into their plan about the Hutts and it isn't without a great deal of consideration that he offers his services.
Wald feels his comm beep. He doesn't check it, already knowing it's the signal from Kitster. With quick fingers, Wald turns on every holo projection set up around his shop, the one he got from Watto once the Toydarian died. The images flicker, then grow steady with a little work. They all show the inside of Jabba's room, a place very few people get to see without either selling their life to the Hutt, or dying after.
Grabbing several holo screens, Wald takes them out of his shop and positions them in front, available to those on the streets. The video feed catches quite a few eyes and within moments, people have started to gather around, asking questions and watching with mixed emotions. Most are simply shocked.
"Is this live?!" A woman asks, her mouth gaping.
"Sure is!" Wald nods. "I have seats set up inside, if anyone wants to stay and watch."
Of course, many do. Who wouldn't want to see the end of their biggest oppressors for themselves?
Several things happen in a series of seconds.
First, once Kitster has pressed a button under his bar, the scanning devices active all at once. Every slave in the room shouts in either pain or surprise when their ship is deactivated. The sound carries out from the corridor as well as the private rooms. Every slave is freed.
Then. blaster fire starts when Anakin shoots down the few guards in the room. They fall easily, ending with a squeal. Then, once the rest of the hunters have gathered what's happening, they draw their weapons as well.
Each death feels like a blink in the force. It's so very familiar that for a moment, Anakin doesn't remember where he is. All he sees are clones shouting orders beside him and rows upon rows of battle droids coming in.
But the blaster in his hand is grounding. He isn't deflecting bullets -although, that could be useful right about now- and his opponents are alive in the force as well. He feels the darkness surge with each life taken and it's as beautiful as it is painful.
Everything stops once Fiolla marches into the room, J'Quille right behind her. Her own blaster is held to Rotta the Hutt's head, the little thing wiggling and screaming for his father. Jabba stops dead, the panic clear in those bulbous eyes.
"No!" Jabba shouts, his hands waving in desperation to save his son, but his body barely moves. With the blaster fire stopped, Anakin steps up to Jabba but he doesn't go past Fiolla. He could take this opportunity to give his own speech, but he isn't the best negotiator -not that this will really be any negotiation- and the people need to see Fiolla lead them. Need to see how strong she is.
"Jabba Desilijic Tiure." Fiolla's Huttese is biting but not feral like it was before. Gone is the woman from before. Now, she looks like Padme did during her senate meetings. Strong, unwavering. Beautiful. "If you surrender and tell all the other Hutts to step down from their positions, then we will spare Rotta's life. If you do not, we will take it by force."
Jabba goes eerily quiet. His eyes jump between the two of them. There's still the sounds of blasters firing from far away, Krrsantan hopefully evacuating as many slaves as possible. Then, Jabba sneers. "You bipedals think you can take things from me?!" The following laugh isn't comforting. Anakin feels something wrong in the force, but he can't tell what. No one's moved since Fiolla entered. "We've lived far longer than you, Slave!"
Fiolla nods once. "Thank you've made your choice." Without flinching, she pulls the trigger and Rotta goes quiet. Jabba screams and the room falls back into chaos. But this time, Anakin can see exactly what happens around him. He spins, as if in slow motion, and grabs the lightsaber from his side, lifting it with one durasteel hand. But before he can activate it, more guards come bursting into the room, a wide smile on Bib's face as he walks in behind them. It becomes very clear that he wasn't actually counting credits.
"Ani!"
In the next moment, Anakin's falling. He sees Jabba's room give way into a dark pit where he lands with little grace. Fiolla falls with him, along with Rotta's body. Pain rises up every part of Anakin's body from the landing and he pushes it into the Darkside before it can cripple him. His power surges and now, he goes to activate his lightsaber, only to find it missing from his hands.
"Pateesa will kill you for what you did!" Jabba roars above, his cruel face staring down at them from the trap door they fell through. Anakin -Vader- reaches up and chokes him with the force. The bludge of Jabba's eyes is satisfying, to say the least.
"Actis!" Fiolla shouts, her eyes wide as a new door starts to open. Vader's seen this before over the past few years. Disobedient slaves or debtors who've run out of luck will fall into this pit, left to be fed to Pateesa, Jabba's pet rancor.
Anakin moves to stand between the rancor and Fiolla, his eyes scanning the floor for any sign of a lightsaber hilt while also keeping watch over the beast in front of him. The fighting continues overhead and even beside them, where the pit would open into other areas of the palace, if they weren't blocked off by metal bars. But no one outside is watching the fight. All of them are more occupied with the Wookie tearing them apart.
When Fiolla tries to shoot the rancor, the creature cries out, then runs straight for them. They barely miss getting run over by a fraction of a second. "Don't shoot!" Vader snaps at her. "The skin's too rough!"
"I know!" Fiolla shouts back, more out of panic than anger. They shuffle as far away from the rancor as possible, but it still feels much too close. "You do something!" She suddenly turns to him, taking the short opportunity they have to think while Pateesa eats Rotta's body.
"Do what?!" But even as he says it, the force gives him answers. Without thinking, he lifts any nearby rocks around the cave and throws them at the rancor, doing very little to actually injure it. In fact, it only returns attention to them. "Kark." He hisses.
Fiolla gapes at him. "What was it?! Some Jedi you are!"
He's not in the mood for banter. Reaching up again, Vader tries pulling at anything else around the room, but when the walls begin to crack, he stops quickly. No, he can't cave them in. That'll kill them both.
They avoid another charge but not without injury. A large claw reaches out and scratches along Anakin's left leg, tearing the metal apart and ripping a wound into the flesh of his thigh. He crumples instantly, his vision blurring with pain. Fiolla's strong grip drags him away from a second attack.
Vader barely registers anything past the feeling of burning and the darkness whispering to let go. Destroy the while palace, slaves, and allies be damned. What are they against him? He's Vader!
But he's distracted from the voices when Fiolla grabs all but one of his blasters. "You! Do your magic force poodoo and fast!" With that, she's facing toward the rancor, two blasters in each hand. Her shots aren't accurate, but they don't need to be. She's a distraction.
Leaning against one of the coarse walls, Vader reaches into that darkness; not for power, but for his lightsaber. He feels for the call of his bled Kyber, pulling it back toward himself. It's a messy attempt at meditation, all things considered. He's still very aware of the rancor Fiolla just barely keeps away from him, as well as herself. He feels her fear and pain with every passing second. He feeds it into the Darkside.
His crystal calls back and as soon as he opens his hand, the lightsaber flies into his palm, the pressure just barely registering through his arm.
Standing, Vader activates it and the red glow illuminates the little hiding spot she shoved him into. He turns towards the blocked exit behind him, then slashes it open with a few clean cuts. The metal pieces fall away and he turns back to Fiolla. "Come on!"
She shoots twice more before rolling out of the rancor's way and sprinting toward him. Her skin is covered in a thick Twi'lek sweat and she doesn't stop as they exit into the new area, the danger of a rancor turning into crossfire.
Vader looks back at the twisted beast and with so little use of the force, the cave ceiling falls inward, crushing Pateesa under rock and boulders. Several lives blink out of existence as Jabba's room collapses as well, Bib and several of the musicians disappearing in the force. But he can still feel Jabba.
Reaching a hand out, he pushes the rubble aside until Jabba's broken and battered form wiggles free. It's such a wonderful sight, watching this powerful gangster finally get what he deserves. And before Jabba can speak a word to him, Vader steals his breath without even touching the slug. Jabba gasps, desperately grabbing at his neck, eyes rolling. At last, he goes still, another blink in the force.
So insignificant against all the rest, in the end.
"Ani, come on!" Kitster's voice pulls him back to the hall. The boy is gesturing for him to follow, a blaster in one hand and a holo camera in the other. He's leading another group of slaves toward the exit, guards hot on their trail. Vader marches to him, power flowing with each step, and without a second's thought, he reaches out to the guards and reduces them to a bloodbath in seconds.
He sees flashes of robes with the fresh wave of darkness. Lightsabers and terrified faces that he cut down. The scream of Tusken Raiders. The Seventh Sister and her horror before he destroyed her.
Luke and Beru choking. His mother covered in blood.
Padme.
The darkness is no longer a tool to use. Now, it is a cold rooted so deep into Vader's being that it freezes him from the inside out. He shakes with it, not sure if he's afraid or overjoyed. So much power at his fingertips. It would take so little to reduce this whole planet to shreds. This horrible planet causes nothing but death.
Death.
"Anakin!" A new voice calls and Vader turns immediately, warmth settling into his damaged heart and spreading. He sees Owen Lars, his sniper held high. He reaches out a hand and Vader -Anakin- takes it. They run for the exit.
"Owen-"
"You're crazy, you know that?!" Owen shouts over the roar of blasters and shouting and darkness. "You're real lucky I was in Mos Espa when this started! Kark, you're going to kill me early!"
Anakin doesn't speak. He follows his brother all the way out into the desert, twin suns burning them and everyone else waiting outside. The blaster fire has stopped now and groups have started to form. Dead and injured are huddled together, others trying to find their loved ones. Anakin lets himself get pulled into the group surrounding Fiolla.
"-have to wait!" Fiolla is panting hard, her movements a little shaky as she speaks to Kitster, who's filming the people around them. "He'll be here! He-" She turns and immediately pulls Anakin into a tight hug. He gasps from the pain of it but doesn't shrug her off.
Fiolla pulls away, looking tired but relieved. "Actis! I thought...we were supposed to stick together on this! Where under the twin suns did you go?!" When he doesn't answer past a heavy pant that makes his lungs ache, she shakes her head. "We need supplies for the injured and-"
Anakin pushes past her, his mind finally connecting just long enough to pull Kitster's camera towards himself. He stares into the lens, then speaks. "Jabba the Hutt is dead. All slaves are now free and any resistance to releasing them will be met with death." That, he can promise.
Anakin kneels in the hot sand. In his hands is a japor snippet, Tatooine's runes carved into its surface. This one is different from the one he gave Padme, oh so many years ago. This one is carved with symbols of pride and accomplishment. Bravery and strength. Love and grief.
He sets it down in front of the tall slab bearing the name Shmi Skywalker. He can't feel her but he doesn't have to.
"I did it, Mom." Anakin whispers, his voice almost drowned out against the harsh winds. A storm will be coming in soon.
He doesn't care.
"I freed the slaves, just like I promised." He waits, listening to the silence as if she will respond. If he sits long enough, he'll imagine her voice in his head.
"Thank you, Ani." She would say, a warm smile on her face. "I knew you would." She would hold him, her rough hands running over his cheeks and neck, like he's precious. She would kiss his head too. "My little Ani."
Her absence is painful but it's not as overwhelming as it usually is. When he thinks of her, he can smile instead of feeling the hot anger toward the Tuskens or tears of his own weakness. For once, he feels the light of the force very clearly, singing in comfort and peace. He soaks it in, holding it like a physical thing.
Soon, Tatooine will recover from Jabba's rule. The Hutts will come after them, that much he knows. You can't kill a Hutt without the others knowing. But he's ready for them. And maybe, someday, this planet will bring good memories. Maybe he won't think of sand and blood when he hears its name.
He'll think of Fiolla's bravery and his mother's heart.
No, this is not the end of the fic! I still have at least one chapter left, so hold on!