Sith Academy: E-Maul
By Maya, Mad Mambolica
[Read Maya's author bio]
Note: Cause everybody else seems to include disclaimers, I thought I'd better write one too. George owns the boys, but I own over 100 bucks worth of action figures which makes me a pathetic example of Pop Culture Consumerism. So there.
Thanks go to Dune for producing the happiest Hardcore I've ever heard. Look for Dune in finer music stores near you.
Sidious was stunned. There was his slovenly apprentice sitting on the floor of his sitting room, legs crossed, doing what looked like meditating. His eyes were closed and his hands lay palm-up on his knees.
"Maul?" ventured the somewhat dumbstruck Sith Lord. "What are you doing?"
The young Sith opened one amber eye and rolled it. Slumped back against the couch, his train of thought broken, Maul replied, "I was meditating, Master. 'Was' being the operative word."
"How odd. That's not like you." For once Sidious seemed at a loss for words.
"Meditation helps me to clear my mind and focus upon my anger so that one day, hopefully in the very near foreseeable future, I will be powerful enough to strike you down." Maul sneered at his master.
"How uncharitable, Maul. After all I've done for you." Sidious regained his composure. "Anyway, I've got a new adventure for you. It will be a vile, trying experience, I'm sure. No doubt you'll be more than ready to smite me when you're through."
"I can only pray, Master." Maul stood up and retrieved a can of tuna for My Apprentice. "What sado-masochistic torture shall I suffer through this time?" Maul popped the spout on a carton of milk, sniffed it, and finding it to be without sentience, upended it into his mouth.
"I'm taking you to a rave."
Maul coughed, spraying the white liquid everywhere. He turned and stared at his master, little rivulets of milk dribbling out of his nose. "You're taking me. To a rave. You? Taking me. To a rave?"
My master is a freak.
Maul never ceased to be appalled by his master's ghastly taste. It was bad enough that he was forced to abandon his comforting black jeans and icky "Sith Lords Kick Ass" tee shirt to a bright orange and yellow flightsuit, platform sneakers and matching yellow visor, but to accompany his master dressed in bright pink funfur phat pants slung much-too-low on his hips and a much-too-small Hello Kitty tee was definitely too much. The only consolation for the mortified Sith was that the cut of the jumpsuit he was wearing really showed off his well toned butt.
They entered the cruddy old warehouse and were stunned momentarily by the dizzying array of lights swirling and flashing everywhere combined with the crazed breakbeats of hopped up techno. There were thousands of kids all wandering about in a collective stupor. This was worse than the Grey Side, if that was possible.
Sidious unzipped his Elmo backpack and retrieved a candy pacifier. He popped it into his bewildered apprentice's mouth. "There are so many young and attractive people here," noted Sidious as his eyes wandered from teenaged boy in tight shirt to teenaged boy in tight shirt.
"Well my apprentice, there are three rooms. Each one is hosting different DJs who'll be spinning different music. You will sample each one. Have fun. I'll meet you at the front exit at nine in the morning. I'm off to hear DJ Pussy-lite spin some Happy Hardcore."
Maul spat out the pacifier, chuckling as it stuck to a green funfur hat that passed by on the head of a very spacy Rodian. Maul checked his flier. Apparently he was listening to DJ Phat-Ass spin progressive House. As far as Maul was concerned, it wasn't particularly progressive. It was annoying. It had a beat reminiscent of boring sex. THUD THUD THUD. Nothing like what he and Ob -
"Well, hello there." The thought finished itself contentedly as Obi-Wan entered Maul's field of vision, causing the Sith to be overcome by a sudden and unnerving wave of stomach wooble (you know, that oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-it's-him-he's-so-cute feeling). Maul couldn't even pretend to be surprised at the arrival of the Padawan. "I like your outfit. It's cut really well."
Maul fought back the heat coming into his cheeks, by this time a very familiar feeling when the young Jedi was around. Instead he turned slowly, showing off what he knew to be his well-contoured body. "Thanks."
Maul couldn't help himself from taking in the other's clothes. Once again, Maul was thrown off by the Jedi's expanding wardrobe. Obi-Wan was dressed in a pair of dark red Snug pants which hung wide over a pair of skate shoes (Maul recalled watching the Padawan roll by outside their apartment building a number of times - it seemed the Padawan had far more hobbies than immediately apparent) and a crisp white dress shirt and brightly patterned tie. It was a strangely attractive look on him.
"So, you like House?" asked Obi-Wan conversationally as his eyes dropped again to the Sith's ass.
"No. It's like a thousand life-forms crying out to be pummeled to death with a small dog."
"Uh, ya. I'm into Jungle, myself. Anyway, I've got to figure out where I left Qui-Gon. I have a bad feeling about it. I'll catch ya later."
Maul stared after the retreating form of the Jedi. He couldn't keep his heart from pounding. He tried desperately to call up some anger, some hostility toward Obi-Wan, but all he could think of was the twit leaving him - Darth Maul - to find his stupid master. What a put-down. Focus on that, he thought to himself. A glimmer of anger rose like a beacon in the night and, idly thumbing his lightsaber, he made his way to a sno-kone booth.
"Give me a raspberry one."
Maul glowered at the guy behind the booth. He was tall and pudgy with a short 'fro of dark brown hair. He scooped a ball of ice into the little paper cone and then squirted it with a noxious blue liquid.
"I said raspberry!" growled Maul.
"It is raspberry," replied the vendor.
"Raspberries are red."
"That may be so, however, the sign behind me says quite clearly 'blue' raspberry. I don't know why it's blue. Frankly I don't care, either, I just sell the shit." He handed the seething Sith his blue sno-kone. "10 credits"
"I am not paying 10 credits for a sno-kone!" Oooh, the wrath was building. It was sooooo good. "Especially for 'blue' raspberry! Who ever heard of a blue raspberry?!" The vendor shrugged.
("Oh, man, look, sno-kones!" cried a raver wearing pants wider then he was tall, to his partner, who replied, "Wow, sno-kones are the bomb! My favorite's blue raspberry!")
"Take your blue and shove it where the sun don't shine!" hollered Maul at the partiers as he switched on his lightsaber. He sliced through the air and wrought vengeance down on the ice machine.
"Trippy!" cried the ravers in unison.
Maul sliced through the ravers.
"Fuck, man, you mangled my machine." The vendor stared at the twisted metal as it burned through the cheap folding table beneath it. "This sucks a lot. Oh well." The vendor sat down with a shrug and pulled a joint out of a pack of cigarettes. He lit it and inhaled deeply. "You're a little stressed, huh?"
Maul drank down the last of the blue syrup from his little paper cone and strolled into the room where DJ Pussy-lite was spinning his Happy Hardcore. It has the word hardcore in the title, how bad can it be? thought Maul.
There was a giant screen at one end of the enormous room which was showing cartoons. Cartoons are good, thought the Sith. The antics of Roadrunner briefly held Maul's attention before he was distracted by a bright green light in his face. There were stars and hearts being projected onto the crowd of dancing teeny-boppers and strobelights flashed to the rhythm of the music.
The music was loud. The beat was driving. It would have been enjoyable if it were only that. But it was so fast. It was insane. And the lyrics! Something about taking a spaceship to the moon, blasting off to a whole new world - "Let's go hand in hand to a distant land... side by side to a world that shines so bright..." - a world of love and joy, and light and - Clearly it was some sort of Jedi brainwashing technique! Bile rose and stirred deep within the Sith.
"Hey, wicked suit, man. Wanna bump of Crystal? Howbout some K?" Maul stared down the fool trying to sell him drugs.
"Sith do not support the criminal activity of dealers." Maul grabbed the collar of the raver's patterned shirt and shook him violently. Little baggies and foil-wrapped packages flew from his clothing in all directions. The partiers closest to him fell all over each other in their hurry to snatch up the goodies which had landed on the floor.
"Idiots." Maul felt his contempt for their patheticness rise as he watched them scramble. It would be a waste of energy to strike them down, so Maul opted for them to continue down the dark path of addiction as punishment enough. It was pitiful. He was developing a headache.
A circle opened up in the midst of the dancing multitude showing one very tall raver wearing a sky-blue tank top which showed off his pierced belly button, beige phat pants and a lot of beads, dancing with crazed abandon. He seemed to be doing a version of the Robot as his feet skipped wildly about. Maul had never seen feet move so quickly. It wasn't humanly possible to dance that fast. Talk about reflexes! Then he noticed the long hair and topknot.
"Frightening isn't it." Obi-Wan was suddenly standing next to Maul, both of them staring as Qui-Gon Jinn kicked it on the dance floor.
"Yes. Amazing, though. You must keep him in great shape." Maul replied, smirking as he said it, hoping the jibe would send the Padawan away. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan had been showing some strength of character recently.
"Oh." Maul was left with a mental image of the two Jedi. The creepy corner of his mind laughed and mockingly replaced Qui-Gon with an image of himself. A brief battle ensued while Maul's breast-loving portion of brain beat back that unpleasant other part. Once again, Denial won another round.
His head was really starting to pound and the lights flashing off of the Jedi Master's writhing body didn't help any.
"It was too late when I finally found him. I told him not to chew four grams of shroom, but he gave me that 'I'm the master' crap, and now look at him." Maul looked. Holy shit! He was making out with some hideous freak in hot pink funfur pants...
"Fuck me sideways," stated Obi-Wan. "Isn't that your master?"
Maul was sitting in a dark corner of the Jungle room, horned head in his hands, waiting for the painkiller to work. He was also desperately trying to shake the image of his cadaverous master lung-diving with that hippy Jedi. He was miserable. Even blasting the stupid ravers to smitherines did nothing for him anymore, they just kept coming, like locusts.
Damn his mouth was dry.
The Sith ran a hand over his face. His palm was dry. He was tingling slightly. Everything seemed to slow down around him. Not a lot, but enough so that he could get a close look at everyone in the room. His eyes lingered on a rather well built girl in a skimpy tanktop and yellow Snug skirt. She had a nose ring and had a red ballcap on. She saw him staring and stopped dancing.
"Hi." She sat down beside him. "I couldn't help notice you staring at me. By the way, does that tattoo go all the way down?"
"Uh," began Maul as his eyes made a hazy foray into her exposed cleavage. His mouth smacked with the sticky remains of saliva. "Do you have any water?"
"Ya, sure." She pulled a bottle of water out of a shoulder satchel and handed it over. She had her tongue pierced too. "You alright?"
"I don't know. I feel weird." I wonder what else she's got pierced?
"You on anything?"
"I took some painkiller for my head."
"Damn. Well, you look like shit, if you don't mind my saying." She stood up as Obi-Wan approached. "Your friend here looks like he went one on one with a Mack truck and lost."
"Thanks, I'll look after him." The girl shrugged and jungle-hopped back out onto the dance floor. The Padawan watched as Maul rose shakily to his feet. He was rubbing his neck with his hands.
"How's your head?" asked Obi-Wan. What's with Maul? He keeps touching himself (which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, as far as the Jedi was concerned, but it was definitely up there on the weird-o-meter). It seemed the music was having effect on the Sith as well, he was starting to sway to the heavy bass beat.
"Fine, but what the hell kind of painkiller did you give me?" His lips smacked. He swigged the water. The Sith ran a hand down his chest and tried to focus on something in the distance. It might have been that girl (Damn, she was hot), but everything was so soft and hazy. He looked back at the Jedi, blinking and smiling vacantly.
Saucer-eyed, Obi-Wan grabbed for the little bottle of Tylenol that his master had left with him. Upending it, he stared at the little capsules in his hand. Definitely not painkiller. Oh my God, what have I done? thought the Padawan, there has to be a rule somewhere about peddling drugs to the unsuspecting. Panic surged through him as envisioned himself being punished - not the kind of punishment he fantasized about, either.
"Um, Maul, how many did you take?" Obi-Wan chewed his lip with worry. Maul watched, fascinated, as the teeth pressed into those. Soft. Pouting. Lips. Kenobi's. Lips.
"Three. It was a bad headache, you know?" The Sith haltingly raised his hand and touched a finger to the Jedi's mouth. His lips were warm and moist and his fingers shivered with sensation. He traced his fingers down the Padawan's chin and then down his chest. "I feel so weird. Everything I touch makes me tingle. I like this music."
Ecstasy and Maul seemed to go together rather nicely.
Maul turned and swished out onto the dance floor. The music rolled over him, through him. He'd never felt so unbelievably in tune with the world as he did now. He could feel the Force raging through his veins, throbbing and pulsing in time to the music. There has never been hotter shit than I am now. He danced like he'd never danced before. Partly because he wasn't wearing his obscenely tight leather pants.
Maul had some groovin' moves, which were undeniably improved by his luminescent jumpsuit.
Obi-Wan stared. Maul's grumpy, argumentative, resistant self was completely replaced by a drug-induced chemical haze of joy and bliss. Everything tingles? The Jedi risked another glance at the E still in his hand.
Maul was doing the Worm in front of a crowd of onlookers. Obi-Wan was transfixed by the Sith's undulating body.
Tingly? Maul's pretty damn good normally, how would it be - NO! BAD PADAWAN! Jedi do not take drugs. The scales of ethical behaviour began to tip inside his brain.
Qui-Gon took drugs, but did it count if you grew them yourself?
Besides, Qui-Gon was the council bad-ass. But weren't Masters supposed to teach their pupils all they knew? Obi-Wan threw a lusty stare at Maul who had apparently located the chick. Her hands were travelling freely over his body now, fingers going for the zipper...
"That's it, bitch, he's mine!" hissed the Jedi as the powerful emotions of lust and jealousy surged into his mind. He was pretty sure he didn't recall any mention in the Code that specifically prohibited the taking of drugs...
Maul woke up and stared at the clock across from him: 3:23pm.
Uh oh. Not his clock.
He rolled over and came up against the solid form of Obi-Wan's back. He was going to get up but he felt unbelievably heavy. It was like his blood had been replaced by lead. "Gah," was what he said as he tried to sit up. He lay back down. What the hell is wrong with me? He cast his his mind back to the evening's events.
There'd been a girl - a real hot chick. But this was definitely not her bed. Scratch that. There had been a pair of hands...
Damn that Jedi and his erotic back rubs.
It had been unbelievable, compounded by the amazing tingly feeling in his body. The Padawan's hands were good at any time, but - oh. Now he remembered. Ecstasy. Well, yes, it was an aptly named drug for how he'd felt the night before. However, night befores were regrettably always followed by morning afters. Or, in his case, afternoons.
Really, if he thought about it, he'd been doomed to this fate from the moment he'd run into the Jedi. He thought about stealing the blankets, or applying a well placed kick, just for good measure, but he couldn't muster the strength. One day, when this stupidity is out of my system, I must remember to kick Kenobi and his master's ass. Now was definitely NOT the time. The way he felt, a thousand Gungans singing excerpts from Wagnerian operas couldn't rouse him to action.
Besides, he had a feeling that he had a loooooong way before he got it out of his system.
Ah, fuck it, he thought. He was just too comfortable. Maul threw his arm possessively over the quiet form of Obi-Wan.
"I knew you'd come around," came Obi-Wan's muffled, yet gloating, response.
Like hell. You'll get yours later.
Maul was out in the hall in front of his apartment, gouging the wall with his keys. He'd heard about the depression that set in after taking E. This was as bad as a hangover. Maul was stuck in a funk. He'd done it again. How was it that he'd slept with that twit again. He'd met a perfectly - ahem - healthy girl, and STILL he'd bedded the brat.
He dug a sizable chunk out of the wall. He crushed the chunk in his hand and let the powdered remains tumble from his fingers.
Did every Sith have to like boys? When he was finally Master, would he be like Sidious: a flamboyant, wrinkled old queen, who has the bad taste of dressing like Mick Jagger on crack? Would he escape that fate only to find his enjoyment in biker bars? Why couldn't he see a future full of harem girls?
I want harem girls, thought the dejected Sith. He slumped down against the wall, legs splayed. Harem girls in skimpy outfits, gauzy loincloths and such, imagined the Sith, all with really big boobs. No balls allowed. Just boobs.
Even one harem girl would be nice, working part-time, maybe on Wednesday, Friday and afternoons on Sunday. Even just to play videogames with. Hell, just to nap on his couch next to him while he played videogames.
My Apprentice strolled out into the hallway, sat down facing the Sith and proceeded to lick her ass.
"Don't you just wish you could do that sometimes?" asked Qui-Gon Jinn as he headed for the Padawan's apartment. What was it about Masters being so sneaky? Why couldn't they wear large wooden clogs, or shoes with suction cups underneath, so that apprentices could have some advance warning and maybe tidy up, or run away, or in extreme circumstances, take a short walk off a small balcony? Anyway, Maul jumped, startled by the other's arrival, grabbing instinctively for his lightsaber. He paused, though, fairly certain he couldn't take out the Jedi Master just then.
The Sith looked instead at the cat who was now chewing her thigh vigorously. "I can think of better things to do with my time, actually." Maul glowered at the Jedi.
Qui-Gon snorted in disgust. "Yes, I think you made that perfectly clear last night. Really, seducing an innocent Padawan like that. You should be ashamed."
Maul quirked his eyebrow. Innocent?! HA! "Ya, this is true. Not that you were particularly interested in protecting him. Now, do you mind? I'm sulking here."
Qui-Gon shrugged. "I can't be expected to be with him at all times. He must learn to be independent of me. Some day my time will come and he must be prepared."
Oh, God, please, if someone's gonna yank the cord on this guy, let it be me. Let it be me! Somewhere in the vastness of time and space, a receptionist to the gods pulled out an appointment book and made a note.
"Oh puh-leeeeeez, don't give me that Jedi paternalistic crap. You know you two are on the way out." Maul picked at a hole in his tee shirt.
"And you're just waiting to step in, are you?" Just a hint of queeny sarcasm entered the Jedi's voice.
Maul shrugged. He could do 'bitchy' too. "I don't know, big boy, looks like I already have." Maul feigned innocence. "Oh, and by the way, I really loved the belly button ring, it sets off your treasure trail really well."
"It's a clip-on," coughed the Jedi uncomfortably. Maul sniggered.
Looking wounded, Qui-Gon went to ring his apprentice's doorbell. Finger poised, he flipped his hair once and smoothed his tunic, composing himself. Maul smiled evilly and waited until the door opened.
"Hey, tell Obi-Wan that I'm looking for that same E for next time. Tell him I want another three caps," Maul paused, "And remind him of that special price he quoted for me." He cackled inwardly as the two Jedi looked at him and back at each other, Obi-Wan's an expression of guilty horror.
"What?!" shrieked the Jedi Master. "Is this true?"
"Uh, no, Master, o-of course not! They were in the little bottle you ga-!"
The Master raised his hand silencing the Padawan.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi, dealing in narcotics is expressly forbidden in the Code! I'm afraid I'm going to have to take this before the Council."
"But Master, you gave them to me - No, I didn't mean-!" The door slammed shut.
Maul let his mind wander back to harem girls. Closing his eyes he envisioned a room full of silk cushions, a hot-tub, candles, and an amazing array of voluptuous women. One of them looked vaguely familiar, gorgeous, of course and shapely, but her hair, what was with the dumb-ass braid?
My Apprentice looked up from washing her stomach, yes, this was exactly as she'd envisioned it. The more frustration and anxiety she caused for her Master, the easier it would be for her to strike him down. Now if she could just get at that Fluffi-Wan, she'd be one very happy kitty.
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