Maul Is Out There
by joan the english chick
[Read Joan's author bio]
Disclaimers: Maul, Sidious and Obi-Wan are property of George "Show Me The Money" Lucas. Mulder and Scully are property of Chris "Storyline? What storyline?" Carter. All are used without permission, but no permanent harm was done, I swear. Copyright 1999.
Darth Maul stood in the middle of the smoking rubble that had once been a mall clothing store. In his hands he held his glowing lightsaber; on his face was a gleeful snarl. His master, Darth Sidious, stood off to one side, cackling with glee and rubbing his hands together.
"Excellent, Maul," Sidious complimented. "Your rage is nearly complete."
"Yes, master," Maul agreed, turning off his lightsaber and sticking it into his belt. The two Sith began to stroll casually toward the mall exit. "I believe you could say I de-Structured."
Sidious reached over and smacked him upside the head. "Maul, you impertinent little prick, you know I hate puns!"
"Sorry, my master," Maul grumbled, rubbing his head and thinking dark thoughts. Sidious cackled again.
"Yes, yes. The rage within you is strong! Give in to it! Reach out and strike me down!" he taunted. Maul sulked.
As they approached the doors that would lead them out of this festering cesspool of consumerism, Maul suddenly smacked his forehead -- narrowly missing impaling his palm on a horn -- and exclaimed, "Shit!"
"What is it, my young apprentice?" Sidious inquired. Maul glowered.
"I have misplaced my sunglasses, master. I must have left them back in Structure."
"So take a new pair," Sidious said, waving negligently at the sunglasses kiosk in the middle of the hallway. Maul bristled.
"Never! Those were the $400 Ray-Bans I won by saving Count Chocula box tops! I am going back for them."
"Oh, very well," Sidious sighed. "Just be quick about it." He brightened suddenly. "I'll be over there in Wilson Leather."
Maul stalked back the way he had come, berating himself in a low mutter for being so absentminded. He had carefully removed his sunglasses and placed them in the drawer of a cash register before he began his "shopping spree" at Structure; it was the only piece of furniture he had left standing.
Maul picked his way through the rubble, unable to contain a small smile of satisfaction at the sight of cops, mall security, and bewildered teenage employees, all running around like little ants trying to figure out what to do about the damage. But as he opened the cash register and retrieved his sunglasses, a pair of dark-clad security types detached themselves from the group and came toward him. Uh oh. These were no ordinary cops; ordinary cops don't wear Armani.
"Sir? Excuse me, sir?" the woman called. Maul was about to leave, but then he gave the pair another look, licked his lips, and decided to hang around.
The two approached him somewhat cautiously. The woman was short but well-proportioned, with straight reddish hair curling lightly around her shoulders. The man towered over her and looked gloomy even in the harsh unforgiving light of the mall's fluorescents.
"Sir, did you by any chance see what happened here?" the man asked as they came within speaking distance. Maul made a show of looking around at the damage.
"Looks like an angry customer got medieval on the ass of the capitalist pigs," he observed sardonically. The two cops exchanged a look.
"What makes you say that?" the man asked.
One of the teenage employees walked by and screamed hysterically, "It was him! It was him!" He was still pointing at Maul and blubbering in terror as the mall management dragged him away. The two dark-clad investigators exchanged another look.
"Sir," the woman began carefully, but her partner interrupted.
"Why did you do it?" the man asked excitedly. "Is it something to do with your tattoos? Was the act ritualistic in nature?" His partner gave him a look of resignation.
"Ritualistic? You might say that," Maul sneered. He didn't mean to confess, but somehow he was strangely compelled to tell these people the truth. The Force was strong with these two, and it was creeping him out. "My master ordered me to patronize this establishment as an exercise in honing my rage and hatred."
"Your master, eh?" The man looked like he was going to cream his shorts. "How does your master communicate with you?"
Maul looked dubiously at the two of them. What kind of crackpots were they, anyway? "He speaks to me. With his mouth," he said slowly, as if addressing a small child.
"And he tells you to commit acts of destruction on clothing stores," the woman said, deadpan, in a tone that indicated she had heard it a million times and still didn't buy a word of it.
"Well, not exactly," Maul demurred. "He just puts me in situations that will hone my rage, and lets me do whatever comes naturally." He leered at the woman. "Wanna fuck?"
The woman's mouth fell open. The man looked like he wanted to smirk, but he managed to resist. "Sir," he said, "would you be able to - Ow!" This last was because his partner had smacked him solidly on the arm.
"Six years we've been partners, and you've never once said that to me!" Her partner stared at her in astonishment. "It takes some weirdo alien freak to spit it out!" she ranted.
"I am not an alien! Who told you that?" Maul demanded. "They all say I'm a Zabrakian, but it's not true!"
"Who says that?" the man asked eagerly. The woman took a deep breath and pretended nothing had happened.
"I don't know. Everyone," Maul said vaguely, waving his hand. He decided he had had enough of this conversation. The woman clearly did not want to fuck, and the man was definitely a weirdo, so Maul turned and started walking out of the store.
"Sir, wait! Sir!" the man yelled, and Maul turned around to see the two of them following him. Shit!
"You have no more questions to ask me. This case is closed," he improvised, waving his hand at them. The man's eyes glazed over, but the woman kept coming.
"No it's not," she denied firmly. "Now, sir, why don't you tell us a little more about this master of yours and why you destroyed that store. You say it's some kind of training exercise?"
"Yes," Maul said, once again caught in the truth trap. Frustrated, he contented himself by staring at the woman's cleavage while his mouth babbled on. "I am a Sith in training, and he is my master. One day my rage will be complete and I will rise up and slay him. Then I will be the master." He reached out with the Force and tweaked the woman's blouse open a little more. He leered at her again.
She scowled and yanked her blouse shut. Her partner was elbowing her urgently. "Sith!" he exclaimed. "I knew it! I told you the whole thing reeked of Sith!" The woman rolled her eyes.
"Mulder, how many times do I have to tell you, there's no such thing as Sith. They're just a legend-"
"Legends can be true!"
"-made up by mothers to scare their children," she finished with the resigned tone of one who has made this speech many times. Maul grinned and puffed out his chest.
"I myself have frightened many children since my apprenticeship began," he boasted. Oddly, the woman did not seem impressed.
"Sir, you have to forgive my partner's skepticism. It's all part of the plot," the man explained, following Maul as he strode through the mall once again.
"Plot?" Maul repeated. "You mean all this-" he waved his hand to indicate their surroundings and themselves- "isn't really happening? It's just a story dreamed up by some demented geek?"
"No, no, not that kind of plot," the man said. "I meant a conspiracy, a vast network of men at the highest level of power, working together to keep vital information out of the hands of the public."
"Oh." Maul looked sideways at the other man. By all the moons of Hoth, this guy was even more paranoid than Sidious!
"You see," the man explained further, "my partner and I are agents for the Coruscant Bureau of Investigations. We investigate paranormal activities, and frankly, there's enough on this planet to keep us employed for ten lifetimes." Maul smirked at that. "Anyway, in recent months there's been a surge of destructive events like the one you perpetrated tonight-"
"Allegedly perpetrated," his partner put in tiredly from behind.
"Allegedly perpetrated," he repeated, "and so we've been called in to check it out. You're the first real lead we've had."
"A surge of destructive events, you say?" Maul asked guardedly. He stopped walked at the point where he had left Sidious (the short redheaded woman nearly walked into him, got close enough to catch a whiff of his Sith Lords Kick Ass t-shirt, and wrinkled her nose in distaste) and looked around. His master was nowhere to be seen.
"Yes," the man nodded vigorously. "Let's see, there was the pet shop, the Jedi Academy, IKEA, the dentist's office, the ski resort, the bowling alley, Disneyland...." He ticked them off on his fingers, screwing up his face in concentration. Maul felt a cold knot in the pit of his stomach.
"Those events were not related," he said quickly, waving his hand. "They were simply random acts of violence." He gave the woman an extra burst of Whammy. Both agents' eyes glazed over.
"Not related," the man droned.
"Random acts," the woman echoed. Maul nodded in satisfaction. He considered Whammying the woman into bed with him, but decided it was too risky. She was strong in the Force, and her stiletto heels looked lethal. He looked around again for his master.
"Ah, Maul, there you are," said Sidious, approaching with a muscular leather-clad young man on each arm. "Got your glasses, I see. Good, good. Shall we?" He looked curiously at the two agents, who stood like rocks, staring off into the middle distance. "Who are these hideously unfashionable people?"
"No one important, master," Maul said, pushing open the door. "I believe we parked over there."
Maul was lying on his sofa, half-watching the end of The Bridges of Madison County and zoning out while eating a pint of Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby (damn that PMS anyway!), when there was a light knock on the door. He looked up disinterestedly. It couldn't be Sidious; he never knocked.
"Maul?" called a querulous voice. He rolled his eyes. It was that damned padawan from next door.
"Go away," Maul yelled. The door opened a crack. Double damn! He must have forgotten to lock it! It must have been an oversight. He couldn't have subconsciously been hoping the twit would come over for some hot sweaty Force-driven monkey lo... He squelched that thought quickly and shoveled the rest of the ice cream into his mouth. The padawan's head appeared through the crack in the door.
"Maul, I'm worried about you. Are you in trouble?" Obi-Wan asked solicitously. Maul sat up and grumbled.
"What would a Jedi know of trouble, anyway?"
The door edged open a little more and Obi-Wan edged into the room. My Apprentice appeared, to rub against his ankles.
"There were some people here asking about you," Obi-Wan said tremulously. "They were from the government! The CBI! They asked me all kinds of questions!" Tears brimmed in his eyes.
Maul narrowed his eyes. "What did you tell them?"
"Why, the truth, of course," the padawan said virtuously. "It would be wrong to lie to investigators." His lower lip began to tremble again. "Maul, did - did you do something terrible? Are they going to come and take you away?"
"Never!" Maul thundered. "They shall never have me!"
"Oh, Maul!" Obi-Wan whimpered, and threw himself into Maul's arms. Maul made a face and tried to thrust him away, but he held on tightly and blubbered into Maul's shoulder. "I was so scared! I thought they were going to arrest you!"
Dampness was soaking through Maul's Sith Lords Kick Ass t-shirt, making his shoulder uncomfortably clammy. However, dampness was also ... ahem ... arising in other places, not nearly as unpleasant. The padawan's strong arms were around his waist, his slender neck inches from Maul's face. Maul couldn't resist. He turned his head and sank his teeth into Obi-Wan's neck, sucking fiercely.
Obi-Wan pulled back and looked Maul in the face. His eyes were still wet, but they gleamed. "I'd miss you if they took you away," he said soulfully, and pressed himself against Maul to show it.
"Shut up," Maul growled, pushing the twit backward onto the sofa.
My Apprentice discreetly high-tailed it back to the kitchen, where she sat with one ear cocked, purring fiercely.
Stepping out of the elevator on the 42nd floor, Mulder and Scully observed young Mr. Kenobi hastening down the hall toward his door, clad only in a pair of boxers, clutching his Jedi tunic and robe against his chest. His appearance was quite disheveled, and he blushed crimson when he spotted them.
"Afternoon," he squeaked, twisting his doorknob desperately. Mulder gave him an appreciative once-over as Scully blandly asked, "Any sign of your neighbor yet? Think he's back from his mission to entertain the starving children of Naboo?"
"Um ... I don't know ... maybe," Kenobi stammered, blushed even harder, and escaped into his apartment. Scully gave Mulder a sour look. Then she reached over and smacked him on the shoulder, since she couldn't reach high enough to go upside his head.
"What?" Mulder whined, rubbing his shoulder. He looked regretfully at Kenobi's closed door. Scully turned and stalked over to Maul's door, on which she hammered loudly.
"Mr. Maul! Open up!"
The door flung open. Maul stood there, magnificent in only a black towel wrapped around his waist. "Back for more?" he growled throatily. Scully took a step back. Maul blinked and did a double-take.
"Oh, it's you again," he grumbled. Not for the first time he was grateful for his facial tattoos.
"Sir, we just have a few more questions about these random acts of violence," the redhead said coolly. Her partner appeared behind her and began giving Maul an appreciative once-over. Maul started to leer at them, then thought better of it. Obi-Wan was nearly insatiable.
"I don't need to answer any more questions," he said, waving his hand. The man's eyes glazed over immediately, but the woman resisted. Maul intensified the Whammy. At last she reached her hand inside her jacket pocket -- Maul assumed his battle stance -- and pulled out a small square of cardboard.
"Well, if you come by any more information, please let us know," she said, handing over her card. "We appreciate your assistance."
"Happy to help," Maul said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. The woman gave a resigned sigh and turned to leave.
Her partner continued to gaze stupidly at the near-naked Maul until he slammed the door in his face. Then, blinking, the tall man snapped out of it and followed his partner to the elevator.
"Nice guy," he commented. Scully grunted. As the elevator doors closed on them, Mulder glanced slyly sideways at her and asked, "Wanna fuck?"
In his apartment, Maul settled back onto the sofa and reached for his joystick -- no, no, his OTHER joystick. Darth Lara Croft shimmered into being on his screen and he sighed in contentment.
"That's it?" a skeptical Skinner demanded a week later, slapping a slender file folder down onto his desk. "You spent two entire weeks investigating this case, and all you come up with is 'random acts of violence'?"
"The evidence didn't point to any other conclusion," Mulder shrugged. Scully shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Something kept nagging at the back of her mind, something about one of the witnesses they had interviewed, but she just couldn't put her finger on it.
"Agent Scully, you have something to add?" Skinner asked keenly. Scully looked up quickly and shook her head.
"No, sir. The report speaks for itself."
"Mm," Skinner grunted. He leaned forward to spear both of them with his steely glare. "What the report is saying to me, is, that after the first week you didn't interview any more witnesses. So just exactly what were you doing for the second week, might I ask?"
"Um...." Mulder glanced over at Scully, and it was his turn to fidget. His partner came to his rescue, as usual.
"Field research, sir," she said smoothly. "Just, ah, covering the bases."
"Mm-hmm." Skinner stared from one agent to the other for a long moment, and finally shrugged and sat back. "Okay then. Whatever you say. Here's your next case. Dismissed." He handed them a thicker file folder and sat shaking his head as they walked out.
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