Sith Academy: Waterloo
by Ishyko

Disclaimer: Anyone who thinks these characters are anyone's but Lucas's is on crack. I merely had a little fun with them. OK... a lot.

The blame -- I mean credit -- goes to many people. First to Siubhan, without whom none of us could play. Second to Darth Vyola, for introducing me to this page and for beta-ing. Third to Brian for his wonderful imitations and beta-ing. Fourth, to the Disco Inferno and Sweatshop for providing the platform where these stories could be read. And last, to Sidious, Maul and Obi-Wan, who tapped my shoulder and said, "At last we can reveal ourselves and you will tell our story."

I think I felt a simultaneous Mind Whammy from Sith and Jedi.

It felt good.

No one was more surprised than Darth Sidious when he walked through the door of Maul's apartment. He found Maul on the couch, staring, no -- glaring hatred at the door. Several things struck the Dark Lord of the Sith and he found he couldn't help the stupid questions that then popped forth.

"Your apartment. It''s...clean, Maul."

"Yes, my master."


"The better to hone my rage, my master."

Ah. Not a method he personally would have used. Cleaning. Ugh. Those Sith kittens had proven invaluable in more ways than one. Senators can be much more fastidious and thorough in their cleaning. Sidious - er -- Palpatine found his tidy home to be quite satisfactory.

"Maul! Your Playstation!"




Sidious's eyes widened. "Deliberately?"

Maul nodded. His jaw clamped tight, fury building within his breast.

"Your Sith Lords Kick Ass t-shirt? Shredded?"

Maul scowled. Did he detect hope in his master's voice? "I -- I couldn't bring myself to do that."

Sidious was bewildered. Was this a chapter in the Sith Handbook he had overlooked? Could his apprentice be moving, horror of horrors, beyond him? He didn't think he had actually foreseen Maul striking him down. It was just something he said to keep Maul at his bidding.

"But--!" Sidious spread his arms in a gesture to encompass the place. "This place. This -- you! Look at yourself!!"

"I know." Maul's voice was strangled.

Sidious's appreciative gaze roamed over a clean black t-shirt, one size too small and clinging to well-formed muscles. The rolled-up sleeves were revealed strong biceps and made one wonder how far that tattoo really went. Sinewy legs were encased in the tight leather Damn-Sidious-to-Hell-For-Buying-Them jeans and Jedi-kickers were buffed to a shine. Maul's horns gleamed, his teeth sparkled. And the hot rage in his eyes almost made his tattooed face glow.

Sidious found that his pulse was racing and his breathing had turned shallow. He had to get control of himself. "Why?" he cried out.

"It's Friday night."

Lightning began to crackle from Sidious's fingertips. "And?!?" Maul's abrupt answers were driving him crazy.

Catching a quick whiff of ozone, Maul quirked an eyebrow, or rather his facial tattoo shifted giving the impression of a quirked eyebrow. "It is Friday night," he said meticulously. "Every Friday night you storm in here and rant about Sith getting laid. Every Friday night I endure your cajoling me into these...pants." Maul ground out the last word then continued, his voice rising from a low growl.

"And every Friday night we go to 'The Gray Side of the Force' where I must mingle with the pathetic life forms that attend. Those idiots who are hoping to find some desperate meaning in life, some person who will take away that loneliness.

"And every Friday night I end up WITH THAT TWIT OF A JEDI!!!" Maul gestured angrily at the wall that separated his apartment from the object of his wrath. "DAMN HIM AND HIS LITTLE RATTAIL OF A PADAWAN BRAID!!"

I will not laugh. I will not laugh, Sidious chanted to himself. Not even a little chuckle or-

A snicker escaped the Dark Lord. Sidious sensed the hate and anger in Maul swell tenfold and blast him with the force of an erupting... death star??? What the hell was a death star?

Sidious shook his head and focused on the waves of anger directed at him. He reveled in it. Wallowed in it. Maul was just so good. He could see why the little twit liked him.

"I... see," Sidious managed to say with only a little catch in his voice. He looked away and shot the cuffs of his Sith robes. "So all of this-"

"-Is a way to hone my anger, my hatred, to increase my wrath to the point where the twit will be lucky to escape with his life tonight."

"Oh my," Sidious breathed.

"I did not mean it like that."

"Of course not. Well Maul, it certainly seems that you have it all thought out."

"I have foreseen it."

Sidious frowned. That was his line.

"Yes. Hmm. Well, you know what they say. There's a fine line between love and hate."

"Shall I slay you now or book you for a later date?"

Sidious straightened. He wouldn't even dignify that with an answer.


The Grey Side of the Force. Horny Jedis. Weak-willed Padawans. Desperate, drinking, dancing beings of all races. Strobe lights. Techno music. Maul's head involuntarily started moving to the beat.

He made it stop.

I really hate this place.

He made his way to the bar and found that for the first time he didn't have to shove his way there. It was a little disappointing. At the bar a bottle of Pete's Wicked Ale sat on a napkin, cold droplets glistening on the side.

How in the holy hell?

The bartender looked up at Maul and grinned. "Hey Maul! You're right on time."

Maul glared his question. "Oh come now, this is your spot, everyone knows that. Besides, who's gonna steal a spot from a Sith?" He shook his head with laughter and walked away to pour some Alderaanian ale for a Rodian.

Shit. He had become a regular.

Maul slammed the ale.

The music abruptly cut off and a tapping sound came over the system.

"Uh, hello? Is this mic - oh -- yes. It's on. Hello everyone!"

Various hoots, hollers, and greetings were sent towards the stage.

"Tonight we have a special treat," the MC continued. "While I know we started doing Karaoke only on the first and third Fridays of the month I'm sure you won't mind if we make an exception. If you've been here the last few weeks then you're well aware of the 'little romance' that's been brewing."

Maul felt his heart constrict.

Don't be so egocentric, he told himself. The idiot doesn't mean you. The galaxy doesn't revolve around you. Yet.

Thunderous applause and whistles greeted the MC's statement. Maul felt himself pinned by most of the eyes in the club. He spun around to face the bar and found the grinning bartender had lined up several shots.

Maul downed them gratefully. And choked.

"What's in this?"

"Tequila, Ouzo, Everclear, and 151. I call it a Sarlaac Pit."

"So without further ado I turn over the microphone to everyone's favorite Padawan, Obi-wan Kenobi!!"

The cheers got louder. Maul wouldn't look at the stage. He would not. He would not-

A cappella singing started and Maul realized Obi-Wan came with backup singers.

/If you change your mind/
(Take a chance take a chance take a take a chance chance)
/I'm the first in line/
(Take a chance take a chance take a take a chance chance)
/Honey, I'm still free/
(Take a chance take a chance take a take a chance chance)
/Take a chance on me/
(Take a chance take a chance take a take a chance chance)

By Maya the Mad Mambolica. Click to see larger image.

Maul would never have even recognized the song if it hadn't been for Sidious and one of his twisted lesson plans in sharpening one's anger.

He turned and looked. It was like looking at a speeder accident. He couldn't help himself.

Obi-Wan was wearing his de rigour Friday night leather outfit as well, singing with a knowing smile on his face. Mace, Yoda, and a sullen-faced Qui-Gon were singing backup and dancing a la the Four Tops or those recently "defunct" Backdoor Bantha Boyz. Yoda was screwing up the lines as usual. Imagine that.

There was more heat on-stage than that stupid Scandinavian quartet had ever dreamed of.

/Cause you know I've got/

Maul felt himself skewered by Obi-Wan's hot gaze.

/So much that I wanna do/

Obscene gesture.

/When I dream I'm alone with you/

Pelvic thrust.

/It's magic/

Oh, shit.

Maul coughed up a tiny paper umbrella.

Obi-Wan continued to grind his way through the rest of the song. Beads of sweat popped out on Maul's forehead. It was suddenly very warm. It was the drinks. It was NOT because of that stupid twit. The song ended as Obi-Wan leered at Maul, and the place erupted in cheers, laughter and wolf-whistles. A hard driving rock-and-roll beat came through the speakers. Stepping off the stage, Yoda handed Obi-Wan a towel.

"The bomb you are, young Padawan."

Obi-Wan mopped his brow and absently sent the towel flying into the crowd. A vicious fight broke out. A few seconds later a victorious Jawa ducked out of the pile-up, waving the towel and crying "Utinni!"

Nobody paid any attention to Qui-Gon, who stomped away muttering, "Fine. Be that way. I'll find another padawan someday and then you'll be sorry."

Maul needed another drink. He waved the bartender over. "I'll have three more of those Sarlaac Pits."

"Sure." The bartender quickly poured out the shots and then plopped a glass of draft Guinness next to the shots."

"I didn't order that."

"I did," said a soft voice behind Maul.

Maul felt his skin tingle and his mouth go dry. Obi-Wan sat on the stool to the right and picked up the glass. He took a sip, his eyes never leaving Maul's.

"Did I say you could sit there?" Maul growled.

"Did I ask?"

Was this the twit from next door? The twit that belted out "I Wanna Be Your Dog" with a passion that made the blood pound in Maul's head? He slammed a Sarlaac Pit back.

Obi-Wan took another sip, a bit of foam left on his soft lips. A pink tongue came out and licked the foam away.

Maul twitched.

Remember, he told himself. Your Playstation is smashed! No more Darth Lara Croft! No more Jedi Roadkill! He slammed another Sarlaac Pit.

Maul felt the anger begin to swell inside him. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to crushing Obi-Wan-

Beneath his-

NO!! He was NOT going there! Ever again!!!

His apartment was horrifyingly clean. He had no games. No music. He only had his rightful wrath to aim at that stupid, STUPID twit.

"You sing like shit."

"Your face is flushed."

"It's a TATTOO!"

Obi-Wan shrugged and smiled.

"Why are you doing this?" Maul asked.

The irritating padawan shifted closer. Maul leaned back. "It's like courting a virgin, Maul."

Maul bristled. "Am I the said virgin here?"

"You're just as skittish and apprehensive." Obi-Wan drained his Guinness.

Maul deliberately looked elsewhere.

The twit laughed. "I mean, really Maul," his voice dropped to a seductive pitch. "It's working, isn't it?"

"No," the Sith growled and leapt to his feet. He reached out, searched for, and latched on to the dark side of the force. It channeled through him and outward, sending the smug padawan flying off the barstool and sliding across the floor into a group of dancing Twi'leks.

Obi-wan rose to his feet and started back towards Maul with a cat-like grace, a purposeful gleam in his eyes. The rage rose to a fevered pitch within Maul.

"So you want to play rough?"

Maul's reply was a Sithly grin.


Maul woke up...alone.

He sat up quickly and scanned the room. He really was alone and in his own apartment.


It had worked. He had honed his rage to a razor point and defeated the twit. The sacrifice of cleaning, of the destroyed Playstation, of the mangled stereo had been worth it.

The sound of running water coming from the bathroom finally caught his attention. He'd had a lot to drink but he thought he would have remembered leaving the shower-


Maul jumped off the couch and stalked towards the bathroom. That familiar voice was singing!

/And how could I ever refuse/
/I feel like I win when I lose/

Images flashed into his head. He couldn't go there. Not now. He didn't think he could take it.

/I was defeated/
/You won the war/

Maul stood in the doorway of his bathroom, the silhouette of Obi-Wan Kenobi in his shower burned into his brain, and wondered at the twit's music choice. It hit too close to home.

The spectre of Darth Lara Croft mocked him. It had all been for nothing.

Maul did the only thing he could.

He flushed the toilet.

Scalding hot water poured over the padawan, his shriek of pain a soothing balm to Maul's wounded soul.

It was temporary. A small victory.

But it felt good.



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