Tour of Duty
by The Little Inferno

Making use of Grand Entrance Number 42, Sidious swept into Maul's hovel of an apartment. He scanned the room, taking in the various piles of filth and refuse that were strewn about. Sidious, sighting his apprentice napping on top of such a pile, strode forward and narrowly escaped a roving band of pizza boxes that had reverted to hunter/gatherer mode. Thwarted, the pizza boxes turned their makeshift spears on a skittish herd of Maul's socks, who stampeded off under Maul's bed. Sidious studied his sleeping apprentice, his brows knitting together in concern. Maul had been spending way too much time with that Padawan twit next door, and Sidious was worried that Maul had gone soft. He needs a good menial task to whip him back into Jedi ass-kicking shape, Sidious decided. But what task should he give him? What possible form of torture had he not subjected Maul to yet? After pondering for a moment, Sidious's eyes lit up and he nudged/shoved/kicked Maul.

"Enaphagah. Gway."

"Wake up, my apprentice. I have a task for you."

"Nuhh...wha...ger?" Maul mumbled as he stretched and scratched himself.

"Maul, my boy, you shall be a tour guide!" Sidious grinned triumphantly.



Wearing an itchy green jacket that clashed horribly with his tattoo, Maul stood crankily and uncomfortably in front of the sign that said "Welcome to the Jedi Temple. Let the Force Be Your Guide." A pack of people stood in front of him, waiting expectantly. Maul fished around for his tour script in his jacket pocket. All he came up with were some scraps of paper, 1 Credit, and a gum wrapper. His eyes darted about until they came to rest on Sidious, now wearing his Palpatine gear and standing with the crowd. Sidious smiled evilly, held up Maul's script, and disappeared. Maul seethed. That rat bastard took my script! Now what the hell am I supposed to do? He turned to the waiting crowd.

"Um...the Jedi Temple was built a long time ago."

The crowd nodded approval.

"A very very very long time ago."

The crowd oohed and aahed and took pictures of the sign.

"It was built by a band of blue striped Ewoks with no feet."

The crowd nodded and smiled and took more pictures.

Maul smirked. This may be easier than I thought.


"Okay folks, this way, don't shove, this is the Main Hall where most of the Jedi Academy lectures are, and some of the less rowdy orgies."

As they filed by, an elderly woman whispered breathlessly to her equally wrinkled friend, "I had no idea the Jedi were so perverted!"

Cameras flashed like a horde of lightning bugs on speed.

Maul paused in front of a particularly venerable looking portrait of an old Jedi master. "This is Carlos Alexsandrovich MacDougal, one of the greatest Jedi masters who ever lived. He invented cellophane tape and the breakfast burrito."

Just then, Maul heard a familiar voice pipe up. "Oh no, Maul, that's not him. That's..."

Maul whirled about. "YOU DARE UNDERMINE MY AUTHORITY?" He snarled.

Obi-Wan shrank against the wall. "I was only trying to help," he whimpered. His bottom lip quivered delicately. The horny portion of Maul's brain began to fizzle.

Someone in the tour group spoke up. "Hey, are you a Jedi Padawan?"

Obi-Wan proudly straightened up. "Yes I am!" He beamed.

"Is it true you have nightly orgies in the Main Hall?"


"Is it true about Master Yoda and the biker bars?"

"I...I...I'm not supposed to say..." Obi-Wan stammered nervously.

"What about the Jedi masters teaching more than the Force to their Padawans?"

"Er...I've got to go now!" Obi-Wan, blushing madly, raced down the hall.

Maul admired his retreating form.


"This is Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn's office," Maul said, using the Force to pick the lock so the tour could have a look inside. "Note the pastel color scheme and the abundant use of chintz."

"What's that?" a member of the tour queried, pointing to a shelf on which perched a row of jars filled with various creams.

"Oh, those are his 'skin moisturizers,'" Maul smirked, making invisible quote marks in the air. "And those," he said, pointing to a rack of baton-like contraptions, "are his 'Padawan training aids.'"

Maul walked over to Qui-Gon's desk and picked up a framed picture showing Obi-Wan in feathers and leathers doing something with his tongue that was beyond the limits of comprehension for most beings. Well, maybe not Gungans. Hrrrm... Maul thought. I'll have to ask him about that later.


"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, "YOU HAD FUN?!" Purple bolts of lightning snaked and writhed about Sidious/Palpatine's current chartreuse and teal taffeta confection. It looked sort of pretty, in a sinister imminent-death kind of way.

"I mean exactly that, my Master. Your menial task has failed to hone my rage." Maul smugly reclined on the ratty black sofa, hands behind his head.

Sidious looked like he had a sweaty Toydarian trying to bargain his way out of his gut.

"Let's face it, my Master. YOU are the one that's getting soft. Your tasks no longer make my stomach acid churn. I haven't had a Hamster Death Gulp for over five days now." Maul braced for the inevitable scorching.

However, instead of instantly punishing his apprentice for his insolence, Sidious began to chuckle. Maul eyed his master warily. This wasn't usually what happened, and it was making him nervous.

"Perhaps, my apprentice, since you seem to be such an expert tour guide, it is time for you to take on and train an apprentice of your own."

As if on cue, Obi-Wan bounced into the room brandishing his own ugly green jacket like an ugly green flag.

"Hi neighbor! I decided to help you, because you seemed to be so dreadfully misinformed about the Jedi Temple. Won't this be fun?"

Maul winced and tried to remember if he still had some Hamster Death Gulps mixed up.



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