Here's the Eighth chapter! Thank you for all the reviews and comments.

Author's Note at the End:

Date: 20 December 2024

Chapter 8: You can't always charge in

Mos Espa, Tatooine

The heat of Tatooine's twin suns blared via cloudless sky, casting a relentless heat over the bustling streets of Mos Espa. Watto sat behind the counter of his shop, his leathery wings twitching as he tinkered with a broken converter. The parts sprawled across his workbench in a familiar, chaotic mess, their metallic gleam dulled by sand and grime. Business had picked up slightly after the downfall of Jabba the Hutt and the emergence of the so-called "Fox Lord," though life had undeniably changed.

Slavery, once a backbone of the Tatooine economy, was no more. The new regime had banned it outright, issuing edicts that freed all slaves and warned former owners to leave the planet or adhere strictly to the new laws. Many had fled, unwilling to adapt, but Watto had stayed. He'd never been much of a slaver, at least, that's what he told himself. His slaves had simply been part of his business, tools to keep the shop running.

When the decree came, Watto had begrudgingly freed his last remaining slave, a young Twi'lek named Ralaq. To his surprise, Ralaq hadn't left. Instead, the former slave had agreed to stay on as a paid worker. It was an arrangement that raised eyebrows among the new regime's commanders, who had voiced concerns about the ethics of allowing former slaves to work for their old masters.

Watto's mind wandered back to the day the commanders came to inspect his shop. They were stern, intimidating figures in simple yet commanding attire. They called themselves Iruka, a human with a calm yet steely demeanor, who had voiced his disapproval clearly.

"This arrangement could be seen as coercion," the commander had said, his piercing gaze locking onto Watto. "We can't allow even the appearance of exploiting liberated slaves."

Watto had stammered, trying to explain that Ralaq had stayed of her own free will. It wasn't until Shmi Skywalker had stepped in that the tension eased.

"I can vouch for Watto," Shmi had said, her voice composed. "He may not have been a kind master, but he was fair. And Ralaq has chosen this path freely."

Watto had been stunned to see her standing with the commander. Shmi Skywalker, the woman he'd sold years ago to Cliegg Lars. Her presence carried a quiet authority, and to his shock, the commander listened to her.

Watto shook his head, trying to shake off the memories as he returned his focus to the converter. The rhythmic hum of the shop's air filters filled the silence, broken only by the occasional clatter of tools.

A shadow fell over the counter. Watto looked up to see a large figure in a loose robe, their face obscured by a hood. The stranger stood motionless, their presence oddly imposing despite the simplicity of their attire.

"What can I do for ya?" Watto asked, his gravelly voice carrying a hint of suspicion.

The stranger didn't answer immediately. Instead, they reached into their robe and placed a small part on the counter, a hyperdrive component. Watto's eyes widened slightly, recognition flickering in his expression.

"I need a replacement for this," the figure said, their voice deep and familiar.

Watto blinked, leaning forward to get a better look. "Hyperdrive, eh?" he muttered, his tone cautious. He narrowed his eyes. "Only a few people in this sector'd be askin' for somethin' like that..."

"Yeah maybe you could trade it for a racing pod" The stranger voiced out in an amused tone as Watto looked at him. The stranger's hood shifted slightly, revealing a glimpse of his face. He may have not seen him for a decade but he could identify that face. Watto's jaw dropped as the realization hit him. "Anakin?" he rasped, his wings giving an involuntary flutter.

"Yes, it's me," Anakin replied, his voice calm yet carrying an edge of tension.

Watto stared at him, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. "Well, I'll be... It is you. Never thought I'd see ya back here, boy. Last I heard, you were off playin' hero with those Jedi."

Anakin's lips twitched into a faint smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. He gestured vaguely toward the streets outside. "This place has changed a lot, hasn't it?" he said, his tone neutral.

Watto followed his gaze. Through the open doorway, the streets of Mos Espa were alive with activity. Merchants called out to customers from vibrant market stalls, children ran and played in the dusty alleys, and for the first time in years, there were no shackled figures trudging under the weight of their chains. The air of oppression that had once hung over the town was gone, replaced by a cautious sense of freedom.

"It has," Watto admitted, his tone thoughtful. "No more slaves, no more mercenaries runnin' roughshod over the place. People are... happier, I suppose. Safer, too."

Anakin nodded, his gaze distant. "That's good," he said quietly. "It's what she would have wanted." he spoke softly.

The brief silence that followed was a bit awkward and heavy with unspoken words. Finally, Anakin turned back to Watto, his expression hardening. "Where is she?" he asked, his voice firm.

Watto blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Who? Shmi?"

Anakin's jaw tightened, and he nodded. "Yes. My mother. Where is she?"

Watto hesitated, his wings twitching nervously. "She's... well, last I heard, she was livin' at Jabba's old palace. The one the Fox Lord turned into his headquarters."

"What? How?" Anakin's voice rose slightly, a mix of shock and disbelief. "What's she doing there?"

The Toydarian shrugged helplessly, holding up his hands. "I don't know, kid. I don't ask questions about the Fox Lord or his business. All I know is that your ma's been seen walkin' around there. She doesn't look like she's in trouble or nothin', but..." He trailed off, his gaze flicking uneasily to Anakin's face as he felt shudder run down his back.

Anakin's expression had darkened, and a storm seemed to brew behind his eyes. "No," he muttered, more to himself than to Watto. "No, he's enslaved her. He's taken her prisoner."

Watto's wings fluttered in alarm as the temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Now, hold on," he began, his voice shaking slightly. "That ain't what I said… "

But Anakin wasn't listening. His emotions surged, and with them, the Force responded. The air around them vibrated with unspoken energy, causing the tools on Watto's workbench to rattle and clatter to the floor. Shelves trembled, and a faint hum filled the shop as objects shifted and shook under the unseen pressure.

Watto's eyes widened in fear, his voice faltering. "Kid, you gotta calm down! You're scarin' the customers!"

Outside the shop, passersby stopped in their tracks, their attention drawn to the strange vibrations emanating from within. A merchant across the street froze mid-shout, his wares rattling on their shelves. Children playing nearby shrieked and ran to hide, their laughter replaced by cries of alarm.

Inside, Watto could do little more than stare at Anakin, his wings frozen in place as the young man's presence seemed to fill the room. The Force pulsed around him, raw and unrestrained, a reflection of the turmoil within.

Anakin's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. "I'll free her," he said, his voice low and fierce. "I'll take her away from this place. No one will ever hurt her again."

Watto opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. The oppressive energy in the room made it impossible to speak, leaving him to watch helplessly as Anakin turned on his heel and stormed toward the door.

Mos Espa, Tatooine

Gaara, another clone of Naruto and one of his most trusted commanders with abilities that made Tatooine his homeground, stood quietly at some distance outside Watto's shop, a cluttered, unassuming junk dealer's establishment. The shop was filled with spare parts, scrap metal, and various mechanical odds and ends, a haven for Tatooine's pod racers and tinkerers.

Gaara's hooded robe shielded him from the relentless sun, but it also served another purpose: obscuring his identity. His sharp eyes scanned the entrance of the shop as he leaned against a weathered wall, arms crossed. He had followed the stranger, not that it was hard with his force and chakra all over the place. When the figure had entered Watto's shop, Gaara had chosen to observe rather than confront immediately. It was a calculated decision, one he hoped would yield answers without unnecessary conflict.

From his vantage point, Gaara could make out the interaction inside. Watto's wings fluttered nervously as the stranger loomed over the counter. There was an air of familiarity between them, evident in Watto's startled reaction and the way the stranger spoke. Gaara narrowed his eyes, his instincts sharpened by years of battle and strategy. Whoever this man was, he wasn't just another drifter passing through Mos Espa and this planet. "Is he a force user that works for the dark side ? have slavers hired one of them' he thought

The minutes ticked by, the tension within the shop evident even from a distance. Gaara kept his stance relaxed. He didn't need to see the details to know that the conversation was escalating. Watto's gestures grew more animated, his body language increasingly defensive. The stranger, on the other hand, stood rigid, his presence growing darker and heavier with each passing moment.

Then, it happened.

Gaara felt it before he saw it, a sudden, uncontrolled release of energy that rolled through the air like a thunderclap. It was raw, oppressive, and laced with anger. The Force rippled outward, causing the ground beneath Gaara's feet to tremble slightly. The nearby street fell silent as the energy pressed against the senses of everyone in the vicinity, leaving an unsettling weight in the air.

Inside the shop, tools and parts rattled on their shelves, some clattering to the floor. Gaara's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of Watto, his small frame frozen in place, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. The Toydarian seemed paralyzed, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the stranger's presence.

Gaara's lips tightened into a thin line. 'Uncontrolled power,' he thought, his mind racing. 'Whoever he is, he's letting his emotions fuel his abilities. Dangerous.'

Before Gaara could act, he felt the familiar presence of his comrades approaching. Kakashi, Guy, and Itachi arrived at his side, their cloaked forms blending seamlessly with the crowd. Each of them carried an air of calm readiness, their movements fluid and precise.

"What's the situation?" Itachi asked, his voice low and measured as his dark eyes fixed on the shop.

Gaara didn't look away from the entrance as he spoke. "The man inside is Force-sensitive. I don't know the details, but Watto seems to know him. Something the shopkeeper said must have set him off. His emotions are... unstable."

"Great," Kakashi said, his tone laced with dry humor. "Just what we need, an angry Force user throwing a tantrum."

Guy cracked his knuckles, his usual enthusiasm tempered by the weight of the situation. "Do we engage immediately, or wait for him to come to us?"

"We wait," Gaara replied firmly. "No need to provoke him further. He'll come out when he's ready. Be prepared."

Moments later, The stranger emerged, his movements deliberate and filled with purpose. His loose robe billowed slightly in the hot breeze, and though his face was partially shadowed by his hood, the energy radiating from him was impossible to ignore.

Gaara straightened, his sharp gaze locking onto the man. The oppressive aura surrounding him was suffocating, a mix of anger, determination, and something deeper, something fractured. Even the crowd of bystanders instinctively backed away, sensing the danger without fully understanding it.

"This is going to be interesting," Kakashi murmured, his single visible eye narrowing.

"Stay sharp," Gaara warned. "He's strong, and he's not in control."

The stranger paused just outside the shop, his head turning slightly as if scanning his surroundings. His eyes, intense and filled with a fiery resolve, landed on the four cloaked figures standing a short distance away.

"Who are you?" the stranger demanded, his voice carrying a sharp edge.

Gaara stepped forward, his movements deliberate and unthreatening. "We could ask you the same question," he replied evenly. "You've caused quite a disturbance."

The stranger's gaze hardened, his aura flaring slightly. "That's none of your business."

"On the contrary," Itachi interjected, his voice calm but firm. "Everything that happens on this planet is our business. The Fox Lord sees to that."

At the mention of the Fox Lord, the stranger's expression twisted, a flash of anger crossing his features. "He's the reason I'm here," he said, his tone low and dangerous. "Where is he?"

Gaara exchanged a brief glance with his comrades before responding. "That depends. Why are you looking for him?"

Anakin Skywalker stood amidst the sandy streets, his tension quite evident. His knuckles were white as he clenched his fists, the air around him thick with his simmering anger. His fists clenched at his sides, his energy spiking once more. "That's none of your concern and I don't have time for this," Anakin snapped, his voice sharp. "Move aside, or I'll make you."

"You're clearly upset," Itachi said, his voice laced with genuine concern. "Maybe we can talk this out instead of turning this into a fight."

Anakin's eyes flicked to Itachi, then back to Gaara. He scoffed, his frustration boiling over. "Talking won't get me anywhere. You're just trying to stall me!"

Kakashi chuckled, his hand casually resting on his hip. "Bold words," he remarked, his single visible eye narrowing slightly. "Let's see if you can back them up."

Before Anakin could respond, Gaara raised a hand, signaling his comrades to hold. "Enough," he said, his tone firm. His gaze locked onto Anakin's, unflinching. "We don't want to fight you. But if you're going to threaten this planet's peace, we won't hesitate to stop you."

Anakin's jaw tightened. His instincts screamed at him that these men wouldn't just let him go. If he followed them, he'd be captured, delayed, and he couldn't risk that. He had to act.

Without another word, Anakin charged.

Guy was ready. The moment Anakin moved, Guy's stance shifted, his body coiling like a spring. As Anakin lunged, Guy intercepted him with a swift and precise kick, his foot connecting with Anakin's chest. The force of the blow sent Anakin staggering back, the breath knocked from his lungs.

Anakin recovered quickly, his surprise morphing into determination. He came at Guy again, throwing a series of punches and kicks. Guy dodged and deflected each strike with ease, his movements fluid and practiced.

"You've got spirit," Guy said, a grin breaking across his face. "But you're not going to win like this."

Anakin didn't respond. He threw a wild punch, which Guy caught with one hand before spinning and delivering a roundhouse kick to Anakin's face. The impact sent Anakin sprawling, his head swimming as he struggled to stay conscious.

Anakin pushed himself to his feet, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. His frustration boiled over, and with a sharp hiss, he ignited his lightsaber. The blue blade sprang to life, its glow illuminating the surprised faces of the clones.

"Ooh, so he's a Jedi," Kakashi remarked, his tone playful as he observed the blue lit weapon. "Guy, don't kill him. We might get into trouble if something happens to one of the 'peacekepers'."

Anakin didn't wait for them to make the first move. He charged again, his lightsaber slashing through the air with precision and power. Guy backflipped out of the way, his reflexes honed as he easily made some distance .

Kakashi stepped in next, his demeanor still relaxed but his movements sharp. Anakin's blade came dangerously close, but Kakashi sidestepped at the last moment, grabbing Anakin's wrist and twisting it just enough to force him to disengage. "Impressive," Kakashi said, his tone still casual. "But you're predictable."

Anakin growled in frustration, spinning and slashing at Kakashi with renewed vigor. The clone dodged effortlessly, his hand moving to the hilt of his own blade, a standard vibrosword he carried for close encounters. He blocked one of Anakin's strikes, the clash of energy and metal sending sparks flying.

Itachi and Gaara moved in as well, surrounding Anakin but keeping their distance. Anakin, sensing the encroaching threat, let the Force guide him. With a sharp push of his hand, a wave of energy burst outward, sending the clones stumbling back. Kakashi skidded to a halt, his feet digging into the sand as he regained his balance.

"Well, that's annoying," Kakashi muttered, shaking off the impact.

Anakin took advantage of the brief opening, flipping backward and landing on a nearby stall. He looked down at his opponents, his chest heaving as he tried to control his breathing as he wiped blood from his nose. The clones regrouped below, their expressions unreadable but their stances ready.

"You're outnumbered," Gaara said, his voice calm but firm. "And you're not thinking clearly. Stand down before this gets worse."

"I'm not standing down," Anakin shot back. "Not until I've done what I came here to do."

Command center, Naruto's Palace (Jabba's old palace)

Far from the chaos of Mos Espa, the control room buzzed with activity. Shikamaru, stood at the center of the room, his sharp eyes scanning the holographic display of Tatooine's airspace. Around him, operators who were both his clones and individuals from Tatooine worked tirelessly, monitoring communications and troop movements.

A notification pinged on the console, drawing Shikamaru's attention. He pressed a button, and a new hologram appeared, a Republic ship hovering just outside Tatooine's atmosphere. The image zoomed in on the ship's insignia, and Shikamaru's brow furrowed in recognition.

"Gregor," he muttered under his breath, his tone laced with both intrigue and annoyance.

The hologram shifted to display Captain Gregor himself, his armored figure imposing even in projection. The Republic officer's voice came through the speakers, calm but firm. "We're here to retrieve our commander," Gregor said.

Shikamaru folded his arms, his expression unreadable. "Your commander?" he repeated, his voice tinged with skepticism. "Let me guess, he's a Jedi who decided to take a little field trip without informing his superiors."

Gregor's helmeted head tilted slightly. "So you're aware of his presence."

Shikamaru smirked faintly. "It's hard not to be. He's made quite an impression already." His tone shifted slightly, becoming more serious. "You'll need to wait. He's currently... occupied."

Gregor's tone didn't change, but there was an edge to his words. "We'd prefer if he wasn't harmed."

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. "That depends entirely on him. If your Jedi behaves, there won't be any issues. But if he continues to act recklessly..." He let the sentence hang, the implication clear.

The two stared at each other across the hologram, the tension palpable. Finally, Gregor gave a curt nod. "We'll wait. But not for long."

Shikamaru nodded in return. "Understood." He cut the transmission, turning back to the map of Mos Espa. "Wayward Jedi," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "Boss's going to love this."

TBC.

Well, here's the Eighth chapter! What should happen next? Will Anakin escape? What you think of clones toying with Anakin? Also Clones meet clones haha

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