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Jango tamped down on the curl of satiated pleasure thrumming through him as he parked his ship in the designated hangar. It had been a good hunt. The quarry had perfectly matched the level of difficulty and information given, and the pay was a bit more than it had to be, but still a fair price.
And it had been a decently high-level bounty, Jango was pretty sure he was one of maybe three active hunters who could have done the hunt solo, with only a few handfuls of hunters who could have managed it in a team.
All in all, it was the sort of hunt that made Jango feel competent, and something like accomplished.
But delivering the prey to his client was no place for pride or satisfaction, so Jango only thought of business as he pulled the scared, shivering duros out of the cell and frog-marched him along.
“P-please. Please, no. I’ll do anything you want, I’m very useful! Just don’t give me to him, please!” the former Jedi begged, his fear clearly shifting into terror as Jango moved them towards the turbolift he’d been instructed to use.
Jango rolled his eyes under his helmet as he called for the lift. The “fallen” Jedi had been far more formidable when he’d fought Jango, arrogant and sneering and overconfident like the rest of them. But now the man was a sniveling mess.
The turbolift doors opened and the man tried to pull away from Jango. Jango had a blaster at the idiot’s temple within a second.
“Kriffing do it, it’s better than him,” the duros said, hysteric.
Jango let go of the man’s shirt as he blasted him with a stun bolt. The man, clearly not expecting anything but a lethal setting, managed to contort his face into surprise as he fell to the ground.
Jango dragged the bounty into the lift and selected the third basement without hesitation. This new client seemed competent and paid well. Jango would probably want to be in his good graces, either to get more work from him or to be recommended to any of the client’s acquaintances in the future.
The bounty managed to move enough again to start squirming around on the floor as the turbolift slowed down. Jango fired another stun blast into him right before the doors opened.
He dragged the duros out into a room that looked… weird. The bare bones, the skeleton, of the room was normal office workspace. But there were odd items littered throughout the entire room, well enmeshed with everything else to look like the room had been designed to have them in it even though Jango knew that wasn’t so.
A robed figure walked around a bookshelf filled with old-looking baubles, the robe was pitch black, especially in the low lighting, and gave the figure the silhouette of a Jedi. Jango focused on the glinting embroidered borders all along the robe to help remind himself that this was his client, not another piece of prey.
The still partially stunned duros whimpered as the person walked towards them silently, practically gliding.
“Hello there, if you’ll just put him in that box, I’ll get your payment ready,” the figure said, gesturing at an unnaturally featureless black box, standing upright like a wardrobe.
Jango could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as a chill racked through his body just from looking at it.
He moved forward, finding the slightest indent of a handle as he approached. The bounty started trying to struggle.
“You can take back your restraints as well, the box will be fine at keeping him in itself,” the client informed Jango as he fiddled with a terminal.
The duros whimpered, and then started to cry out, as Jango swiftly undid the chain and force muffling cuffs and shoved him into the box. The cry cut off as Jango closed the door, the sound completely muffled.
Creepy.
But Jango wasn’t letting his client’s creepy valuables get between him and a good payday, so he turned away from the box and towards the client without hesitation.
The client had lowered his hood, revealing a face that looked almost baseline human, if it wasn’t for the yellow eyes burning brighter than even a zabrak’s could, with a ring of red around the irises. The face was decently handsome besides that, dignified, with a hint of crow’s feet starting at the client’s eyes.
The client was also reaching out, hand holding a small box. Jango took it, opening it and quickly counting the chips. He tilted his helmet in the slightest of questions, not sure if the client would pick it up, let alone understand there was question.
“Just a small bonus, for finishing up so expeditiously-” when Jango had first contacted the client to accept the job, they’d agreed on a three-week deadline. It had only taken Jango seven days. “-I do prefer it when my contractors are competent and enthusiastic, it gives one a good sense of security moving forward. Consider it a token of my appreciation.”
Translation: you went above and beyond, and I’ll pay extra to get this good of service next time.
“Bounty hunting is a business where you get what you pay for, after all. I suppose I don’t mind clients who understand that,” Jango replied with a small shrug.
Translation: this will get you no special favors from me, but if you offer a job of equal quality next time I’ll consider it.
The client hummed, the noise both appreciative and considering. “Well, if you need to be on your way, then I’ll let you go, otherwise I think I have a few teas down here that taste a bit like behot, if you’d like,” the client offered. The smile on their face, which had been polite and only mildly creepy before, took on a sharper edge.
Jango glanced at the box, noting that his helmet's thermal vision couldn’t see it at all.
“I think I’d better leave now, to make my next rendezvous,” Jango countered, taking the out.
The client nodded politely and watched Jango as he made his way back into the turbolift. Jango watched them and their expression until the doors closed on him.
Jango let out a sigh of relief as the lift started moving back up.
This client had paid well and was a competent employer. They were also the most troublesome type of client in Jango’s view, a dangerous one.
Between the weird box, the other objects, and the bounty on a former Jedi, the man was clearly a force user. Those were always dangerous. He could afford Jango’s rates, so he had some wealth. He could clearly gather information. He could also hide information, the moniker used to hire Jango was clearly a moniker and also absolutely ironclad, Jango couldn’t find hide or hair of his client. And worse, Jango’s instincts were screaming after meeting the man face to face after only a few minutes that the man was skilled enough that he could have taken in the bounty himself if he had wanted, that hiring a bounty hunter had been a matter of convenience, not need.
Dangerous clients, as Jango knew well, were the worst. They used you like pawns and pulled you into schemes beyond your paygrade or scope. Jango was already being used enough, if the man wanted him to take another bounty, it would have to be an exceptionally good one.
Two months later, there was a bounty for Galidraan’s senator, with an optional request for information gathering from the bounty. Jango recognized the bounty as the shabuir governor’s old aide.
Not even seeing the “Mortdrak Tish” moniker listed as the client again was enough to persuade Jango from taking the bounty.
Jango had managed to get most of the information he couldn’t trick out of the senator with the threatening heat of his flamethrower near the senator’s head when the client showed up.
The client watched him for a few minutes, just standing at the entrance to the room. Jango could see just the slightest hint of those bright eyes from underneath the hood.
Jango continued with his work.
He was pretty sure though, that he was running out of ways to intimidate any more information out of the bounty. He’d threatened violence too many times, struck once, and then the bounty had run out of steam, refusing to give answers once more. Actual torture would, of course, get him nowhere, even if Jango found he didn’t particularly mind hurting this man for the sake of hurting him. But he was technically on the client’s payroll, and he was being paid for information collection, not sadism.
Jango asked once more who had financed the lobbying for the damn “infrastructure project” he was interrogating the man about, only for the senator to throw yet another political rival under the speeder with a lie. Jango rolled his eyes under his helmet.
And then the client moved, coming up behind the senator silently, leaning down to speak into his ear. “Oh, really? Ms. Cordtrin was the one pulling the strings? On a project she opposed and that she wasn’t on any committee for?” The voice practically dripped with sarcasm, and Jango found himself slightly surprised to find that the voice was actually as smooth and charming as he remembered.
The bounty squawked as he jumped what little he could, tied down onto the chair.
And then he started blubbering again.
“Please, please, let me go! I can pay you! I ca- I can vote for a tax break for you! Anything! Please!”
Jango got to see the smile drop off of his client’s face for once as the man rolled his eyes before he recovered the smile and continued.
“Good, good, then you can tell us who your benefactor is.” The words were sickly sweet, and spoken into the other ear, making the bounty jerk again in surprise.
“I- I don’t know! They, uh…” Jango cocked his head threateningly. “uh- Kulkuta! They said to call them Kulkuta!” the bounty squealed out.
“Ah, Sidious again then, as expected.”
The words made the bounty freeze, his eyes bulging wide.
“If you’d like to do the honors,” the client offered, pressing his finger to the bounty’s temple in a mock blaster, “otherwise I’ll take care of it myself.”
That got the bounty to unfreeze.
“No, wait! Please! I gave you my information! Please don’t, I have a wife! I-”
Jango put a blast through the senator’s head, carefully watching the light leave his eyes.
The client approached the corpse. Jango watched him cut off the left index finger and thumb without hesitation, dropping the appendages into a box.
“I don’t suppose you’d be up for tea this time?” the client asked.
“You bring tea to interrogations?” Jango asked dryly.
“Not usually, and I wouldn’t this time. I prefer to take my tea on a table that’s not on fire, as any tables in here will be in ten minutes.”
Well, that explained why disposal wasn’t part of the job.
“There’s an expected high-density movement in the asteroid field I have to head to next that I’m keen to miss. So, I don’t think teatime is a good idea this time. Sir,” Jango answered as he followed the client to the exit.
“Libri.”
“Pardon?” Jango couldn’t tell if that was a curse or a good luck wish or what.
“Libri. You’ve completed two jobs for me quite successfully, I think you get to know my business name now,” the man, Libri, said, mirth in his voice.
Which meant that the man was hoping for a continued business relationship, which was tempting. But the man had also proven himself to be even more dangerous than before this time. And he was clearly playing some long, complicated, sprawling game. Jango had one of those kinds of games to play for his own goals, and then he didn’t want to be involved in anything else.
Jango got his payment and left without tea. He got Slave I into autopilot, and then immediately set to researching “Kulkuta”, “Sidious”, and “Libri”.
If he wanted to avoid getting involved, then he had to know what he was supposed to avoid.
His resolve to avoid Libri lasted longer than his list of leads on researching the man. Up until Libri offered him good pay to “liberate” a few artifacts that Dooku had lent to one of his allies.
A round of solar flares from the sun of the planet they met on for the drop off had Jango finally accepting Libri’s invitation to tea.
They were near the Mandalorian sector, so Jango wasn’t exactly surprised to find that the tea being served had proper shig in it.
The conversation, at least, was nice. Entertaining and intelligent and Libri didn’t make Jango want to grab his blasters every time he opened his mouth, unlike most of the Cuy’val Dar or the kaminoans. And Jango got some info on gang movements too, ones that he knew would be useful, given the recent bounty postings.
Jango supposed he was technically responsible for instigating their next meeting, even if he didn’t think so at the time. But the chances of Libri being on the same planet as him, in the very cantina he was planning to stake out in later, in pure coincidence, was small.
As if he could ignore the much more likely scenario that Libri was seeking him out on purpose, potentially ruining his job.
“Is this seat taken or this a case of an uninvited guest?” Jango asked, quiet enough that he could snarl without drawing attention as he slid into the seat next to Libri.
Libri looked over at him, not visibly surprised, and observed him for a few moments.
“Considering I’ve finished all of my immediate work, I don’t think there’s anyone I invited, or would think uninvited. Especially not someone like you, Mr. Fett, if you’re free to keep me company,” Libri answered with a playfully leery grin.
So the man wanted to claim that he’d been working on something unrelated to Jango and it actually was coincidence that he was here.
Jango scoffed while he attached a bug to the underside of the bar counter. There were mirrors nicely positioned to give almost a full view of the cantina in this spot. If his target did come here, there was a good chance they’d pick this spot.
“Pleasure and business aren’t good things to mix, and I’m technically on the clock. So, we shouldn’t see each other after this, right?” Jango said sternly.
Translation: if you actually are here by coincidence, I expect you to not interfere with my job at all. Otherwise, it’s a fight.
Libri hummed, still with that kriffing smile on his face.
“I suppose I’ll just have to convince you to be my drinking partner the next time we have tea, then,” the man said, sliding a chip across the bar to pay for his tab, “Oh, and do be careful, the only brothels that haven’t been bought out by a gang in this hemisphere are Madame Nebula’s, since she runs her own gang out of hers. Have fun!”
And then the man was whirling out of the cantina, robe pulled up again and billowing around him, somehow revealing very little of his appearance.
Jango sighed before he ordered a drink to go. He apparently had to research the information agency in the brothel he’d found for their gang affiliation now.
Libri did insist on mixing in alcohol with the tea next time Jango took a job from him. Jango only accepted because the man made sure the amount was small enough that there was no chance of getting drunk, and the man was willing to mix the drink right in front of him.
Jango couldn’t help but appreciate and slightly enjoy the small flairs Libri’s confident hands made as he mixed them.
Nearly four years after Jango met him, Libri was one of his best clients. And one of his best information sources. Both because of the vast quantity of quality information the man had, and the fact that Jango could just exchange his own info for Libri’s.
Jango entered the base’s “receiving parlor,” as Libri called it.
He wasn’t even surprised when the one chair seemed to pull itself out for him. He knew that meant he wouldn’t have to wait long.
Libri walked in, a droid beside him carrying a tea tray. The man had ditched his robe again today, as had been more common than not for the past year.
Today the outfit of choice was apparently a lightweight, soft shirt with billowy sleeves, with a sleeveless letheris tunic overtop and formfitting plain pants that made the tassels and other decorations on his sash and boots more obvious. Showy but casual. The man must have had nothing planned for the day but datawork.
“So glad you managed to stop by, Jango. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Libri asked, smile seemingly wide and genuine, which was rare.
“I believe you said something about wanting to know what sort of expression Farru would make when Ziro’s spies backstabbed her?” Jango offered back as Libri sat down, leaned forward, and took his helmet off for him.
Jango felt a distant flash of terror curl through him as Libri lowered his helmet onto the table with a soft clunk.
It wasn’t the first time Libri had done that. Jango hadn’t even tensed when the man had reached out this time. It was normal Libri behavior.
When the kriff did he start considering letting one of the most dangerous people he knew take off his armor for him acceptable, normal behavior?!
“Oh, yes! I am still quite curious. Did we get another hutt lord bloodbath on our hands, then?” Libri asked, clearly seeing nothing wrong with the situation and enjoying himself.
Jango swallowed and stamped down on the pit of dread trying to make its home in his stomach.
He answered Libri’s question. And listened to the man’s answer. And continued the conversation, doing what he could to pick up the bits of information Libri dropped for him.
He refused to panic.
Jango avoided Libri a bit after his wake-up call. He couldn’t completely avoid the man, cut off all contact like would be safest, because then Libri would probably come find him. Or worse, consider him an enemy. Jango knew too much about Libri to do anything but try to slowly disentangle himself from the man and hope for the best.
So, he could take a few fewer jobs from Libri, could slowly decrease the number of times he visited the man outside of a job, could act not quite as friendly, a bit more distant, when he did see him.
Once in a while, Jango suspected that Libri knew exactly what he was doing. But Jango was never quite sure, and Libri didn’t make any moves in response to it, so Jango decided it was best to let sleeping nexu lie.
And then Dooku hired him for another, convoluted, middle-broker job. And then there was a Jedi on Kamino, one of the ones from the earlier job.
He managed to dismiss the haughty, white-haired Jedi from his apartment, only to get more instructions from the equally haughty and white-haired Dooku.
It took quite a bit of restraint to not kill the Jedi when they fight on the platform, the fool fell within a minute, and Jango didn’t think he’d need to bother with letting them follow him. The Jedi would just have to find the recorded message “accidentally” left behind in his apartment.
Jango made sure to only let out a contented sort of pleasure, instead of any bloodlust, as he imagined Dooku dying numerous deaths to get through the meeting with the man.
His fantasies were cut short by a number of geonosians and CIS officials storming in to inform Dooku that they’d caught a Jedi and Republic senator in the droid factory. Jango leaned back against the wall and watched Dooku have to herd the fools like toddlers and attempt to soothe them.
The white-haired Jedi broke in that evening and ended up being slated with the other two for execution the next day.
Dooku offered to let him accompany the count and other VIPs to their box to watch the execution.
Jango declined, a bad feeling settling in his stomach. He’d been talking with Libri enough still to see how many ways this can go wrong; how important this might be in the grand scheme of things. He wasn’t sticking around for something like this when he had Boba right next to him, this was more than just killing a politician and two Jedi.
By the time he got out of hyperspace and made sure Boba understood to stay undetected in Slave I, Libri already had news of the war officially breaking out and had analyzed both sides’ reports of what happened to laugh over.
As the war stuttered itself into an unstoppable, clumsy rampage through the galaxy, Jango noticed some odd things that reeked of Libri’s involvement. At least if you were as familiar with the man as Jango was.
The familiarity also let him notice similar movements, from a different source. It was the first time since he first researched the name after hearing Libri say it that he’d found evidence of “Sidious” existing at all.
And the fact that this Sidious figure was apparently connected with Dooku burned something poisonous through Jango’s veins.
Jango visited Libri again, for the first time since the war broke out.
Libri wouldn’t give Jango any straight answers, but he did give warnings and hints in equal measure, letting Jango know that there was a lot more to the whole thing that Jango could choose to involve himself in or not. It felt like genuine concern and a test in the same measure.
Jango almost felt at ease, except that Libri had exchanged all of his casual touches for predatory looks and posturing at Jango.
And then Libri casually commented as they were saying goodbye that Jango should bring his son in for refreshments next time.
Jango left with the resolve to actually never see Libri again, cut all contact using the war as an excuse. The only bounty hunters who had been introduced to Boba were dead. Besides them, only Dooku, a handful of the Cuy’val dar, and five kaminoans should know of Boba’s existence.
The war continued on, Jango taking low profile jobs here and there, avoiding Libri by some miracle Jango couldn’t help but worry was artificial.
Almost as artificial as he was sure a lot of the war was. The tides of it didn’t change how conflict was supposed to, even on such a large scale. Momentum was lost without reason, strong attacks happened suddenly in places that shouldn’t have been seen as valuable targets, bad information abounded but no one ever adjusted their behavior to account for the possibility of bad information.
Dooku finally managed to get in contact with him again, a year and a half into the war. The man offered him a job to work in a team to assassinate the Republic’s chancellor.
It was a logical offer on the surface. But the details, the requirements, were too convoluted and stupidly inefficient for Jango to think it was anything more but another attempt to manipulate the war into more chaos and pointless pain.
Jango rejected the offer and went to ground.
Jango’s continued worry proved pointless a week later as he was making a pit stop on a disreputable moon on his way to Naboo. He walked back into the ship to see a box laying on top of the controls that definitely hadn’t been there before he’d left.
Jango locked up and checked the ship before cautiously approaching the box.
From up close, it was clear who it was from. The designs were perfectly in line with Libri’s tastes, and the material was one that Jango has seen used for numerous pieces of furniture in the man’s bases, black stained color and all.
Jango made sure his helmet was secured on properly before opening the box.
There were a few loaded cartridges, the right size for his usual sniper slugthrower, and a note.
Jango,
If you go through with it, which I know you and I and many others would be quite elated in the long run if you do, then you’ll want to use these.
May the Force be with you,
Darth Libri
Well at least that finally confirmed that Libri belonged to that Sith cult that had popped up in his research, along with probably Dooku and the Sidious character.
The cartridges contained six shots each, proper bullets. They were, unsurprisingly, pitch black, barely able to catch the light from the viewport even though it was midday. They also exuded the kind of energy that had clued Jango into the fact that he should stay away from whatever artifact he was looking at in Libri’s bases in the past.
Jango found himself very unsurprised when the plot to kidnap the chancellor somehow ended with the bounty hunters getting arrested instead, Dooku showing up to “attempt” to finish the job himself, and monologuing as the Jedi played nuna with him.
Jango used the opportunity to line up his own shot and aimed for the chancellor’s head.
Jango was a bit surprised, like everyone else, when the purposefully ricocheted slug shattered in a black screech before it could hit the chancellor.
And then he became much more surprised as the Jedi there and Hardeen turn to face the chancellor of the Republic, lightsabers raised.
Jango wasn’t sure what was going on, but he didn’t have to care. He switched out the cartridge as Dooku monologued again and the chancellor dropped something into his hand from his sleeve.
Jango watched through his sight as the Chancellor blurred from how quickly he moved, tearing into the Jedi with a red lightsaber. He managed to take an arm off of one before Mace Windu himself crossed sabers with the man. It held the man still for a few seconds, more than enough time for Jango.
Libri’s bullet hit true, right into the chancellor’s temple. Jango fired another shot into the man’s head, and then one down lower, managing to get it into some part of the man’s chest.
A black substance seemed to pour out of the wounds as the man writhed, screaming loud enough for Jango to hear even from so far away.
The chancellor exploded, pushing everyone around him back, and Jango barely had the presence of mind to use the opportunity to escape. But escape he did.
He found out the next day that Bane and Dooku also managed to escape. That news was a footnote, however, to the chancellor’s death and the Jedi temple’s official statement that the man had been a Sith and that they were investigating the man posthumously.
The Jedi got flak for it until a few hours later, where they managed to publish conclusive proof in conjunction with a number of senators that the chancellor had been war profiteering and conspiring with Dooku.
A few minutes after that news was released, Libri sent him a file.
There were details connecting Palpatine to Sidious to certain shell companies, ones that had donated to Death Watch quite a bit, especially leading up to Galidraan and quickly petering off afterwards. Jango barely had to search to successfully cross check the details with what had been publically released earlier that day.
There was a half cheeky note attached to the file, saying Jango should consider the bullets and the information payment for doing the job, one that Jango had never taken.
Jango felt adrift, not quite betrayed – Libri had researched him the second Jango had took his first job, and his past wasn’t hard to find if you actually looked – but not sure what to feel either.
Dooku and the CIS gained a bit of momentum after the death and scandal, with Dooku easily assuaging everyone in his court that Sidious was the only corrupt one, the only traitor, and firmly staying in a leadership position while the Republic reeled in shock, leaderless.
And then Dooku, without Palpatine around to manipulate the war into being unwinnable, lost a battle. And then another one. And then a campaign. And then another campaign.
The Republic still had far more resources, after all.
But Jango couldn’t help but notice it was the branches that had rumors of “lack of discipline” and complaining non-clone officers that took the most victories.
Libri contacted him again, essentially just to check in, under the guise of giving him information.
Jango gave the man information back, not updating him on his own condition.
Jango checked into an inn with Boba for a night and woke up with a bottle of high end tihaar from Vorpa’ya.
When Libri asked Jango what news he had heard about the rebellion on Ruusan, Jango carefully responded with rudimentary knowledge, a quick note about the planet being boring in his opinion, and a thank you for the alcohol.
After that, the only “gifts” Jango got were only given after Libri asked if he wanted it and Jango continued to give Libri the small bits of personal information he asked for. It made Jango a little nervous, but Libri wasn’t exactly using the information for anything, and the information was far less valuable than the information Jango had been trading with the man for years now.
Bane, half-drunk, insisted on showing him an image when they next saw each other a Bounty Hunters’ Guild office.
It was a picture of him and Libri, or rather, of a man with Jango’s face and Libri. The clone had a wicked scar curling down the left side of his face, and was clearly in deep conversation with Libri, standing right next to the man.
Jango dismissed the duros with only a little difficulty and pushed down the twisting in his stomach.
When he got back to Slave I, spent the evening with Boba, and put his ad to bed, then he let himself think about it again. This quickly led to research.
Jango had stayed even further out of politics after he’d killed the chancellor. It was apparent within an hour of research that this had been a mistake.
After half a night of research it was obvious that Jango had made far far more than a mistake.
Libri was clearly the one pulling the war’s strings now. Jango had found traces of him in most of the recent Republic victories, in the GAR in general, in a few rebellions all around the galaxy. And Libri had especially been active in places that had been destabilized in part due to Jango taking a job there recently. Most of which he had taken in part because of information provided by Libri.
He’d been played like a bes’bev, and played well, completely used.
Jango couldn’t even get angry at the betrayal with how much it pulled his spirits down.
Jango then made the mistake of trying to get himself to go to bed. The process of going to bed, of course, involved changing, which put him in direct line of sight of the multiple pieces of clothing that Libri had gifted him.
When he had received them, Jango had thought they were a nice compromise between Libri’s taste and his own, a product of Libri getting clothes from the same provider the man usually got his own clothes combined with getting something for Jango. But looking at the dark blue, almost midnight black sleep shirt that was edged with golden embroidery matching Libri’s preferences, Jango couldn’t help but think there had been a slightly different process in choosing the clothes.
Libri was going for galactic control, as far as Jango could tell. And he wanted Jango to help him. Jango was pretty sure, because he wasn’t a complete fool, even when faced with someone as mysterious and weird as Libri, that Libri also wanted to keep Jango as a helper and probably something more.
He needed to get out.
The Republic fell in two months, the CIS only existing by a technicality, an empire rising strong out of the ashes and carnage. Jango didn’t hear about it until three weeks later.
A few of his clones were spotted in the main capital of the system two weeks after that.
Jango ran again, bitterly pleased at how easily Boba kept up with him and helped them move.
Three moves and an officially listed bounty later, and Jango made the decision to head back to Concord Dawn for the first time in decades.
Boba cried for the first time in a long while when Jango left him. But Jango couldn’t protect Boba, at least not for a while. It was safer to leave Boba with his first buire’s old Journeyman Protector friend, who promised to have Boba ready for his verd’goten by the time Jango got back.
It still made Jango feel like his heart was getting torn apart, even as his resolve held firm as he left his ad behind.
He only lasted four more months, before he walked into his hotel room to find a robed figure step out from the corner as soon as he closed the door.
Jango slowly reached for his blaster.
The figure pulled back their hood to reveal Jango’s face. But younger and with a wicked scar curling up the left side. The clone from that one image.
“Please just save us all the trouble and come peacefully,” the clone said dryly.
Jango snorted. “I know there’s not much practice for arresting people in the war, but did you actually think that would work?”
The clone shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “Nothing wrong with being polite.”
Jango had heard the exact same thing from Libri multiple times. Clearly the man had rubbed off on the other.
And then the clone continued after a moment of silence. “Boba misses you.”
Those three words were enough to send Jango into a blind panicked rage.
Jango brought the blaster out of its holster. The clone kicked it out of his hand before he could fire a shot.
They exchanged blows, their armor – which the clone was wearing under his robe – allowed them to take more hits than normal people and dragged the fight out for longer.
Jango threw himself at the clone viciously, quickly devolving the whole thing to wrestling on the floor and pure brute strength.
Jango had more experience, but the clone was far from shiny-armored and wasn’t at too much of a disadvantage there. The clone was also much younger than him, much more energetic and hardier.
Jango could think well enough after a few moments to acknowledge that he would lose in a protracted battle, so he readied his flamethrower, potential hotel arson be damned. They had his ad.
Something stung his neck just as he started to lift his wrist.
Jango aborted the flamethrower to hurriedly grab at whatever he’d been hit by. He barely managed to pull out the dart and look at it in the corner of his eye before the clone was flipping him and smashing him back into the floor. Jango tried to struggle, but another clone, this one with blue jaig eyes painted on their helmet, entered his field of vision and helped the other hold him down and his vision went fuzzy.
And then the noises started going blurry and the room started to spin.
Jango thought he heard some murmuring in Mando’a as unconsciousness claimed him as much as the clones and their empire were about to.
When Jango woke up, he was in a bed. It was big and luxurious and the perfect mix of supportive and soft for him. He was sore all over and dreaded the idea of moving. But he knew he had to.
He forced himself to sit up and immediately regretted it, the room spinning almost as much as his stomach. When the vertigo didn’t abate a few moments later, he let himself fall back down onto the bed.
He laid there, unable to tell how much time passed. It was perhaps minutes or hours before he heard a door slide open. He tried to strain his eyes and crane his neck to see who it was but didn’t succeed.
The bed dipped, and a moment later Libri’s face was taking up most of his field of vision.
“Li… bri,” Jango croaked out, throat hoarse.
Libri shushed him and lifted some sort of drink pack to Jango’s lips. Jango found himself a bit disgusted with how easy it was to trust that Libri hadn’t brought anything that wouldn’t help him.
He drank without hesitation, the electrolyte drink washing down his throat refreshingly.
“Obi-Wan,” Libri stated. Jango raised an eyebrow in question. “My name, my actual name. I do apologize, I had meant to give it to you sooner to use but it was really only right to give it to you face to face and well… we haven’t actually been in the same room for almost two years now, haven’t we?”
One of Libri- Obi-Wan’s hands was combing through his hair, the curls having grown out enough to do so while Jango was running.
Jango finished off the drink.
“What happens… now?” he asked, voice still weak but definitely better.
Obi-Wan hummed, his ever-present smile growing a bit more. “Now? Now I think you take a proper nap, maybe two, and by this evening I’ll move you to a chair so you can eat dinner with me and Boba.”
Jango felt his blood instantly start pumping hard at the mention of his ad. Obi-Wan just chuckled at him.
“Don’t worry, we’ve been taking good care of him. He’s been enjoying quite a few of his lessons too, I’ll let him tell you about them himself. He’s quite a chatterbox once he gets going, after all.”
Boba only did that with him, as far as Jango knew. Only with the people he trusted and liked. What had Obi-Wan done to his ad?!
Obi-Wan tsked as his expression morphed into something both serious and earnest. “You don’t need to look at me like that. I didn’t do anything to him that I didn’t do to you. I took care of him, supported him and gave him things to do that he enjoys; gave him things he likes.”
Jango couldn’t think up a retort, with his brain still not fully operational, especially with the hand still combing through his hair, pausing every once in a while to massage his scalp a bit.
Obi-Wan had never done this exactly to him, but Jango had gotten used to Obi-Wan’s casual contact, and apparently his body hadn’t forgotten the man’s physical presence in the past two years, it hadn’t forgotten how safe Jango had ended up feeling in the acklay’s nest, where Obi-Wan had always had the advantage and had only ever used it to treat Jango hospitably.
“Why me?” Jango asked. Why had Obi-Wan chosen to do this to him and his small family?
Obi-Wan cocked his head, apparently a little surprised at the question.
“I suppose I’ve become quite fond of you,” the man said bluntly, “I can’t think of anyone I’d like more by my side as a consort.”
Consort. That was the plan? Use him to set up a takeover, hunt him down after the fact, and then keep using him as a companion?
The hand in his hair stopped and left.
Obi-Wan’s smile returned, although Jango had never seen one so small or sad on the man’s face. It looked like an actual natural smile.
“Rest, dear one. We’ll have a proper talk tomorrow, after you’ve seen Boba and gotten a full night,” Obi-Wan said softly, finishing the order off with a chaste kiss to Jango’s temple.
“Sleep.”
The words, odd and heavy, were accompanied by the return of the hand in his hair. Jango watched the small smile stay genuine, even as it turned far less sad. And then he watched everything fade, his eyelids growing heavy as sleep overtook him, a vague curl of satisfaction and relief thrumming through him.