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“Hey!” The familiar voice carried an unfamiliar hostility. “You can’t be in here!”
Obi-Wan suppressed an eye-roll when Anakin startled and almost dropped the bag of highly delicate evidence. Thankfully, his former Padawan managed to juggle it back to safety without resorting to catching it with the Force and blowing their cover wide open.
Anakin glared at Obi-Wan, no doubt sensing his exasperation. If you think it’s so easy, you carry the bag.
You are the one who wanted to investigate yourself instead of waiting for the authorities, Obi-Wan pointedly thought back along their bond. You can carry the bag. I’m just here to supervise.
Anakin couldn’t suppress the outrage that took over his face. You are literally the one who said that the CSF are full of losers and wouldn’t be able to find the assassin’s trail if he came back to the Senate Building himself and drew a map to his house on the ceiling of the Rotunda!
Obi-Wan did say that. He’d even said it with the implication that the Jedi should, very discreetly, get involved with the situation, even though the Senate forbade them from dipping a single pinky-toe into the investigation of the assassin who bore a striking resemblance to an ages-ago lost Padawan. Republic leadership chose the most bemusing times to care about conflicts of interest—usually when it was the stupidest possible thing to do in a given moment.
Obi-Wan did not say that he and Anakin, specifically, should go. But he was also aware that since the assassin’s the mark was Padme (and several other Senators Obi-Wan had no doubt his Padawan didn’t even know the names of), there was no chance of Anakin not dragging them over to the perpetrator’s last known location with the intention of scoping it out for themselves.
Yes, but I’m still not the one who suggested we should come here. Obi-Wan raised a brow back at him. You get to take responsibility for this one. As a treat.
Anakin glowered, but didn’t get to retort before the Coruscant Guardsman’s irritation became a higher priority.
“Hands where I can see them, now!” The Guard ordered.
Obi-Wan sized up the trooper. The trooper’s paint not only indicated their command-level rank, but also that they could only be Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard, Cody’s oft-alluded Batch Brother. Obi-Wan would prefer to avoid injuring any clone, but especially someone his commander spoke fondly of.
The Guard Commander’s blaster was steady, and from his position in the doorway, he was at the perfect angle where a single twitch could line up a shot to incapacitate either of them.
The room was tall and narrow, not ideal for a fight. There was only one way in and out—for a non-Force user that couldn’t fling themselves up the ventilation shaft high above, that is. Unfortunately, they were not, at present, a pair of trained Force users. No, they were a couple of critically non-Jedi thugs casing an abandoned building (which coincidentally also happened to be an active crime scene). Obi-Wan cursed himself for letting them get cornered in such an inconvenient manner; Cody would give him shit for such a rookie mistake if he ever found out.
The Master Jedi sighed internally and calmly put his hands up. They could easily escape when they were clear of the cramped interior of the building. Obi-Wan mentally elbowed Anakin to do the same.
I was gonna do it, Anakin whined, mulishly raising his hands.
You’ll have to be faster than that, Padawan mine. Obi-Wan mentally jeered.
Your face has to be faster, the Knight grumbled. Obi-Wan sent back a wave of pity for Anakin’s declining banter skills.
Commander Fox’s blaster twitched towards Anakin, correctly assessing the Knight’s cooperation levels to be much lower than Obi-Wan’s. “Drop the bag now!”
Predictably, Anakin bristled, and Obi-Wan signed out loud when he didn’t release the evidence bag immediately.
“We didn’t take it from here,” Anakin lied unconvincingly. “It’s ours!”
“Right, and I’m a Jedi,” Fox snorted. “Drop it now, or you’re coming in stunned.”
Obi-Wan caught a flash of Anakin’s hurricane of a thought process—the bag was full of evidence, not loot, which was suspicious and could blow their cover—this random trooper was an unknown who he didn’t trust—who were they to order him around like some kind of civilian—he hated going down without a fight—and internally groaned, realizing what was about to happen and how powerless he was to rein in his Padawan’s ill-thought determination.
Anakin…! Obi-Wan warned anyway, despite knowing it would be futile.
Anakin charged Commander Fox.
Commander Fox, who had not taken his blaster sights off Anakin, shot him immediately. Anakin took the stun bolt directly to the arm and collapsed dramatically to the ground upon contact, all 6-plus feet of him landing with a heavy THUD.
Once Anakin was neatly dropped, Fox immediately trained his blaster back on Obi-Wan. “Don’t you try what they did.”
“Truly,” Obi-Wan drawled sardonically, “I couldn’t dream of it.”
Fox tsked, switching his blaster to one hand without removing Obi-Wan from his line of fire. With his other hand, he got out a pair of stun cuffs.
As the commander cautiously approached his Padawan’s crumpled form, Obi-Wan eyed Anakin with growing exasperation.
Is this truly necessary? Obi-Wan sighed over the bond.
Absolutely, Anakin thought back with relish.
The very moment Commander Fox bent his knees to cuff Anakin, the knight struck. He suddenly pivoted on his elbow, sweeping the trooper’s legs out from under him. Anakin continued his momentum, flashily transferring his leg sweep into a single-handed back spring and landing on his feet a good distance away, creating some needed space between him and Fox.
Efficacy of movement, Padawan. Remember it, Obi-Wan half-teased.
Who do you think I learned that one from? Anakin snarked back.
Well, Obi-Wan smiled idly. You certainly got your situational awareness from someone else, if what’s about to happen is any indicator.
Wha— Anakin managed to get out, before the inconvenience of a full-body tackle from an 80kg super soldier plus armor disrupted his concentration.
Fox did not land on his ass after getting the proverbial rug pulled out from under him. To his credit, he immediately tuck-and-rolled backwards until the balls of his feet were once again on the floor. Without wasting a second, Fox sprung from his crouch, leveraging himself across the room into Anakin’s torso with impressive force and accuracy.
The blow disturbed the Knight’s balance enough to send him toppling onto the ground, supine, with the aforementioned 80kg super soldier pinning him with his legs.
“Surrender.” Fox growled, realigning his blaster point blank at Anakin’s forehead. “I’m not going to karking ask you again.”
“Good,” Anakin grunted, struggling to pry his right arm out from the commander’s pin. “Because I’m not going to listen.”
Anakin’s mechanical hand shot up to wedge between the barrel of the blaster and his forehead just as Fox fired again. The low-power stun bolt dispersed through Anakin’s artificial arm before absorbing the remaining energy—exactly as it had been designed to do at the start of the war.
Anakin used Fox’s surprise to get a firmer grip on the barrel and yank hard. Fox kept his hold on the weapon by the skin of his teeth, starting a high-stakes game of tug-o-war. Fox slammed his other arm down on Anakin’s mechanical hand and leveraged his elbow to a weaker position, but Anakin had a sudden, suspicious burst of strength at the last possible second, wildly flinging the gun out of both their grips and across the room.
We are not Jedi at the moment, Padawan. Obi-Wan stressed. Keep your Force usage on the proverbial down-low, please and thank you.
If you think it’s so easy you come fight him instead! Anakin snapped. It’s like wrestling a damn nexu.
Obi-Wan pointedly sat on the crate behind him, settling in to watch the show and give his sore knee a rest.
For lack of a weapon, Fox slammed the fist he used on Anakin’s mechanical arm down onto his face. Anakin grunted and blinked back tears—a direct blow to the nose would do that no matter how used to punishment you were, in Obi-Wan’s experience.
“Oh you miserable exhaust-huffing fucko—” Anakin snarled nasally, only half to Fox.
“That’s miserable exhaust-huffing fucko junior, to you.” Fox drawled.
With an enraged growl Anakin dipped into the Force once again, completely blowing past Obi-Wan’s second not-so gentle mental reminder to not karking do that, and flipped his and Fox’s positions on the ground through sheer brute strength. The start of a triumphant smirk crawled up Anakin’s face.
Unfortunately for Anakin, he was so forceful with his flip that it took almost no effort at all for an experienced grappler like the Fox to use his momentum against him: a slam of an armored elbow to the meat of Anakin’s thigh, and the commander leveraged Anakin off his perch and right onto the ground on his back, exactly where they had started.
Obi-Wan raised one brow, and eventually the other, as Fox and Anakin rolled along the floor, trying to secure the upper hand—Anakin with his increasingly unsubtle Force-assisted strength versus Commander Fox’s immeasurable fighting prowess. Obi-Wan sighed openly when Fox and Anakin managed to roll all the way to the end of the narrow room and then start rolling back in the other direction upon encountering a wall. He wished he had some tea—maybe this show would feel less ridiculous to witness with a beverage in hand.
In fact, tea sounded great right now. By the time Fox and Anakin had literally bounced off the opposite wall and started rolling back the other way again, Obi-Wan was quite certain this altercation would not be ending any time soon.
Obi-Wan slowly, calmly, heaved himself off the boxy seat. He silently scooped up the evidence bag from where its previous holder had discarded it in favor of rolling along the ground like a malfunctioning droideka. A quick check to the bag’s contents showed nothing had been damaged, blessedly.
Obi-Wan would fish out Anakin from the Coruscant Guard’s cell blocks after dropping off the evidence with the Council. And maybe after a nice cup of Sapir as well. It would build character.
Unobtrusively, Obi-Wan skirted around the edge of the small room towards the door, subtly willing the commander not to notice him, fairly confident the two were wrapped up in each other enough to not miss his absence until it was too late.
However, it appeared Fox had better situational awareness than anticipated. Almost through the door, a brief but pointed warning from the Force had Obi-Wan spinning back around to face the room just in time to be surprised by Fox’s whipcord catching his ankle in a vice.
While Obi-Wan was busy being flabbergasted—whipcords were certainly not standard kit, how in the galaxy did a clone commander get one installed in his armor—Fox yanked on the coord hard, taking Obi-Wan down to a single knee and ow why his karking knee again—
The cycle of Anakin and Fox’s fight was currently in the Anakin-on-top phase, but Fox had shot his whip over Anakin’s shoulder just to get at Obi-Wan. With Fox’s whip secured around Obi-Wan’s leg, a new direction of leverage capable of breaking the rolling stalemate became available. As Fox pulled Obi-Wan’s stance out from under him, the reel of his coord also pulled Fox up and over Anakin, back onto his feet.
With one arm preoccupied with the whipcord that had leashed Obi-Wan like a massiff, Force how undignified, Fox used his other to snag Anakin around the throat in a one-armed chokehold as he went past.
Fox yanked the whipcord again, sending Obi-Wan flat on his stomach with a yelp. This time, the commander kept pulling, reeling in the coord as he approached to keep Obi-Wan off balance, dragging his belly backwards as his fingers scrabbled for purchase on the grimy floor. Ugh.
Anakin was in a similar predicament—Fox simply walked forward with Anakin’s neck trapped in the crook of his arm, and the Knight was left scrambling as he was pulled backwards, trying and failing to regain his footing and keep pressure off his trachea at the same time.
Obi-Wan groaned, realizing he was literally being dragged into the fight.
Well, there’s nothing for it, he thought. He was obligated to get involved, now.
Obi-Wan kicked his leg back, looping the cable tying his ankle under the bridge of his foot. Foothold secure, Obi-Wan spun on his back 180 degrees like a breakdancer, using his leg power to sharply push the cable in the opposite direction of Fox’s pull, sending the commander stumbling forward.
With the brief slack created by this maneuver, Obi-Wan managed to slip off his boot, freeing his socked foot. As it was not his first rodeo with Mandalorian whipcords, he released the shoe. The reel power once used to drag a fully grown man was transferred to Obi-Wan’s sturdy boot, sending the shoe flying back to Fox. It struck him in the visor. Perfect.
Obi-Wan was on his feet, scruffing Anakin, and bolting out the door with him in the span of three seconds.
He’s following us, Anakin complained three blocks later.
Less talking and more running, Padawan. Obi-Wan sighed.
He’s still following us, Anakin whined four levels later, leaping from building to building.
I’m aware, Padawan. Obi-Wan snipped back, watching Fox copy their rooftop route with deadly ease.
How the hell is he still following us? Anakin exclaimed, five districts over.
Obi-Wan huntedly glanced over his shoulder, just to confirm what the Force was telling him with his own two eyes. Yes, Commander Fox was still on their trail, just a block or so behind them. Oh look, the trooper just did a front flip over a speeder to keep his momentum. Impressive, but inconvenient.
He must have a tracker on you, Obi-Wan cursed internally. They wouldn’t be able to head back to the Jedi temple with a beacon giving out their location. Not only would it expose them as Jedi to the Guard, it would expose them to whoever else could gain access to the signal, legally or otherwise.
Why does the tracker have to be on me? Anakin protested. Maybe it’s on you.
Obi-Wan leveled the knight an unimpressed look. I suspect you might have been within his reach a bit more often than I.
Yeah, well… Anakin grumbled, assuming makes an ass out of you and me.
They had two options: gain distance from Fox long enough for Anakin to shuck his clothing and ditch the tracker, or immobilize the trooper so they could locate the tracker on their person and destroy it.
The clone hadn’t flagged yet in his pursuit, so the second option it was.
With the two of them fighting together in an open space, they could incapacitate a single clone commander.
They could take him. Easy peasy.
Not easy peasy.
Obi-Wan groaned awake, pressing a consoling hand to his aching head, encountering a bump the size of a nexu egg. He was sure if he could reach into the cell over and check the still-unconscious Anakin, he’d find a matching lump from where Commander Fox had slammed their skulls together, knocking them out.
Stars above, the Council would never let him live this down. Hells, forget the Council—Cody would never let him live this down.
Obi-Wan sat up on the cell’s cot just as Anakin began to stir, head pounding with pain.
“Wha?” Anakin blinked up at the ceiling and frowned. “Aw man, not again!”
Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. “It disturbs me you can tell we’re in a cell from the look of the ceiling alone.”
“What, you can’t?” Anakin snorted. “Skill issue.”
“Shut up, both of you.” Commander Fox banged his datapad on the ray shield, the noise spiking Obi-Wan’s headache.
Anakin visibly winced at the sound, glaring at the trooper. “You shut up. I’ve got a headache.”
Fox’s visor locked gazes with Anakin, staring him down. Maintaining eye contact, Fox reached up and did it again.
“Please stop fighting the nice trooper, Ani,” Obi-Wan grimaced with his palms over his ears. “You haven’t won once.”
“Neither have you,” Anakin argued.
“I’m not the one picking a fight,” Obi-Wan pointed out.
Fox did it again, and both Jedi flinched. “I mean it: shut up. Whatever baby advil-ass headaches you two have going on is nothing compared to what I’m experiencing just listening to you speak.”
“Oh I’m sorry,” snarked Anakin, “should we take this to another room?”
Fox, having none of it, made the noise again.
“Heya Foxy,” a horribly familiar voice called from the doorway. “Are we torturing prisoners in here? Let me in on this—”
Obi-Wan’s eyes clenched shut. Gods, not him. Please, anyone but him. Obi-Wan would hear about this until the day he died if he bailed him out of jail after getting his shit rocked by a single clone trooper in a two-on-one fight.
The gasp of recognition might as well have been Obi-Wan’s death knell.
“Well well well,” Obi-Wan cracked open his eyes to see Quinlan Vos’ smug face beaming down at him from outside his cell. “What do we have here?”
Fuck off, Obi-Wan told Vos with his eyes.
Make me, Vos’ eyebrow wiggle said back.
Fox paused writing. “You know these clowns?”
“Oh Foxy, I have been waiting to see these two behind bars for a long time,” Quinlan grinned like the little shit he was, and clasped his hands together, miming a swoon. “This is the best anniversary gift I could have gotten!”
“We don’t have an anniversary,” Fox bit out. “And unless you’re going to bail them out, they’re not for you.”
“Oh, I do have to bail them out, Council’s orders.” Quin’s snakelike smile crept further up his cheeks. “They didn’t give me a timeframe for when, though.”
“Quinlan Vos you whore,” Obi-Wan grit out. Quinlan threw his head back and laughed.
“Come on, Obi,” Vos leaned against the opposite wall. “You should be thanking me. A little time in the slammer builds character!”
Fox went still.
The clone turned to Obi-Wan. “Obi,” he repeated. Obi-Wan nodded ruefully.
“Ani,” Fox addressed Anakin.
Anakin sniffed disdainfully. “What’s it to you?”
Fox lifted his gaze to the ceiling, numbly dropping his arms to his sides. “Oh my karking gods, you’re Jedi.”
“Congratulations, Foxy!” Quin slapped both his hands on the commander’s shoulders, giving the frozen clone a friendly shake. “That’s two more arrested Jedi for your portfolio! I guess the first one wasn’t a fluke after all.”
“Why me?” Fox’s hands came up to cover his visor. “Why is this my life?”
“You should be proud,” Quinlan assured him, slinging a friendly arm around the commander’s shoulders. “Getting both of these two at once isn’t easy!”
“I arrested a High General,” Fox muttered in shock, dropping his face into his hands mournfully. “Just kriffing decom me here—if I have to set one foot back on Kamino, I’ll karking riot.”
“And you arrested me,” Anakin piped up. “Also me, that’s also… really impressive, to catch me. Not just Obi-Wan.”
“Shut it, commander boy,” Fox snarled. “I’ve had tougher fights with my batchmates when I was seven.”
Anakin gasped in offense. Obi-Wan suspected if he’d had pearls to clutch, he would have done so.
“Is this not the first time you’ve accidentally arrested a Jedi?” Obi-Wan questioned Fox, delighting when Quinlan froze minutely.
“Only this idiot,” Fox jerked his thumb at Quinlan.
“Is that so?” Obi-Wan smiled pleasantly at Quin, promising torment.
Quinlan pouted and complained, “I couldn’t blow my cover and use the Force.”
“Oh, so that table just threw itself at me from across the room, did it?” Fox incredulity was scathing, even through his helmet. “Technology is amazing, these days.”
“I coulda beat you,” Quin pointed, pulling away from Fox to fold his arms. “If I wanted. I just… didn’t want to.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it, spy boy.” Fox snarked.
“We couldn’t use the Force during our cover, either,” protested Anakin. “We totally would have kicked your shebs if we could.”
“Am I supposed to believe you running five steps straight up the alley wall and backflipping off it was the karking wind, then?”
“To be fair,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “You copied him right after.”
“I’m fucking built different you ginger dweeb,” Fox spit with vitriol. “And don’t think I didn’t see you manipulating the trajectory of my kriffing whipcord. None of you have shit on me.”
Obi-Wan purposefully ignored Anakin’s burning stare to the side of his head.
Quinlan threw his head back and laughed. “Poor Foxy, too competent for his own good!”
“Shut up,” Fox downright sulked. “How am I supposed to know when I’m fighting an undercover Jedi or a random criminal?”
“Most people can feel the difference pretty quick.” Vos snickered. “And they usually keep feeling it for a couple days afterward, too.”
Fox signaled an eye roll. “It’s not that difficult.”
“That is such a you thing to say,” Vos simpered.
“Jedi one,” Fox snapped at Vos, before pointing to Obi-Wan and Anakin. “Jedi two, Jedi three. It feels like I can’t swing a Force-damned stick on this planet without arresting one of you zippy fucks.” Fox threw his arms out to the room. “Are there any other Jedi in here I should know about?”
A throat cleared. Oh-so-slowly, a tentative hand raised from a few cells down.
Obi-Wan squinted at them, before his eyes widened in disbelief. “Master Jon Antilles?”
A hooded head nodded gingerly.
Vos doubled over in laughter.
“Didn’t you die?” Anakin questioned incredulously.
The cloaked figure shrugged. “I got better.”
“Are you fucking kidding me,” Fox deadpanned numbly. “This is the worst day of my life.”
“You say that about every day of your life,” Vos managed to get out between chortles.
“Incredibly, it just grows consistently worse by the second!” Fox snapped.
“…Can I also be bailed out?” Jon asked hesitantly.
“Yes, Jon, we can also bail you out.” Obi-Wan assured the bedraggled Master. “Quin, at least get Master Antilles out in a timely manner—he doesn’t deserve to be in here.”
“He robbed a store,” Fox grit through his teeth.
The other Jedi looked at Jon. The Master shrugged. “They stole it first.”
“You can’t just steal shit back—” Fox mimed pinching the bridge of his nose. “Actually, no. If you’re a Jedi, then I don’t want to deal with you.”
As if unable to stand the sight of the carnage in the room, Fox handed Vos his datapad without looking up. “Vos, get these insolent fucks out of my sight.”
“You got it commander,” Quinlan saluted. With a wave of his hand, Vos powered down their cells’ laser shields. “Come on, gang. Let’s get back to the temple so I can tell everyone about this.”
Fox grabbed Vos’ bicep, clenching tightly. Quinlan looked at the commander questioningly, and Fox’s enraged, defeated gaze slowly rose to meet the Shadow’s.
The clone commander, without breaking eye contact, hit a button on the wall using the data pad, reengaging the shields.
“Vos.” Fox said, incredibly tired. “Releasing prisoners yourself, without filling out their release forms, is a federal offense. I have to karking arrest you now.”
Vos was still cackling in his cell, twenty minutes later. It was incredibly easy to maneuver the Jedi into the cell whilst incapacitated with laughter.
“How long are we going to be here?” Anakin grumbled.
“Hopefully the next person the Council sends doesn’t do anything illegal in the time it takes to sign a release document,” Obi-Wan said, passive aggressiveness directed firmly at Quinlan.
The Jedi Shadow wiped a tear from his eye. “Well, now you’ve jinxed it, Obi! The next Jedi who walks in here is gonna drop restricted psychedelics right in front of our intrepid commander and get sentenced twenty years.”
“They’d better karking not,” muttered Fox. “And if they do, they’d better share.”
Obi-Wan’s head was in his hands. Fox mimicked him, curled up at the end of the hall, catatonic.
Yoda cackled wildly in his cell. “Worth it, it was!”