Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The bitter taste of whiskey clearing his throat made it easier to tune out whatever Trantos were venting for, these audible clucking noises Stec egged Trantos into a echo chamber of noise and bullshit he opted not to ask about. Maze in the meanwhile sat squashed between him and Trantos on his bar stool face in his arms, bucket shoved aside. 

Seventeen assumed he was tired beforehand, he did to a point. Several hours passed that initial statement’ made for drawn out squints where alcohol wasn’t grinding his headache and looks how the others caught on that Maze wasn’t for once alright. He swallowed down a sigh not audible in their kitsch spot eyeing the other past one phantom touch spirits glass. Shit was getting weird. 

“Maze bro, you’ve been on this how long?” Trantos asked, that fucking Coruscanti tilt he does to piss Seventeen off coasting their private bubble. He dropped his hand beneath his chin this unreadable look on his face. “I have theories though they’ll piss you off.” 

“No he’s fine.” Alpha cut in to stall the gnawing sensation of unease sparking his diaphragm. The man were right between them not pasrspecs away across the city. “He’s gonna cut the osik, drink his papuur’gal, te nu’amyc okay? Probably had a rough day or something. He'll drink it off.”

The other two shared look for answers made Seventeen scoff at the audacity. “I’m not repeating myself.” He backed himself up non-pulsed. “The fuck is your problem.” 

“Nothing swear on it, just weirded out.” Stec spoke fidgeting with his glove palms. “I didn’t know him having a shitty day would set you.”
 
“He’s got a point.” Trantos mumbled. “And there I was hoping for subservient excitement, something dour.”

“Plus, Maze is all slinky looking! Not that usual office tired slinky oh his, I'm saying its different man. Bro’s weirding me out.” 

“…Which again leading to my hypothesis, someone’s shook him up.” Trantos concluded off Stec outburst. “Leading on my next take of affirmative action, punt the bastard who did it.”

"Duh." Alpha sighed, inklings of doubt fronting as his mind pinned the issue. 
 
“Wait you know them?” Stec asked. “Is it someone on his admin team,  the navy admin? Don’t tell me it’s one of us.”

“Nope.” Trantos answered with Seventeen half grunt distracted by another long swig of his shot glass.  "Unlikely." 

“Okay then division specs? The Corrie’s can’t be that persuasive on his shebs, Fox’ika hordes them round the waistband damn near everywhere.”

Trantos squinted glare at their bar top shelf ricochet something Seventeen couldn’t catch; he’ll blame the alcohol buzz buzzing off his taste-buds. His expression was nothing short of grimacing, brown eyes hazy. “That’s standard knowledge Fox does that love, I meant Maze entourage circle.” 

“Sure man.” Stec gave peeping at Maze again unimpressed off the blasé answers he received. “Fuck what a waste,” catching his shot glass easy next to Fordo own.

Now Alpha’ memorized all ninety-nine of his boy’s facial tics down to the soles of their heels, his anomaly super gift made a curse minus popping droids and seppie rats in the face, quoting demands for half-assed compliance speeches. Drained him off dogmatic quota day by day. 

“Oi, shithead.” Trantos’ voice tugged on his thoughts before some unasked shoulder smack with by Trantos’ ugly mug in tow jammed his cranium. “Not here.” 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alpha sneered, focusing instead on Maze white hairs crowning the back of his head.  “You’re making me nervous.” 

“You. Nervous.” Stec demanded so flat no one would miss it.

“The four of you in this fucking conga line make me itch, get it?” Alpha watched the Muunilinst bomb expert fiddle with his shot glass cracking his thumb. “Your little honeypot bid on who kills me first.”

If something happened to Maze, only off a hypothetical sixty-two percent chance someone could hurt him, they could solve it. A fixable problem, something so painstakingly tiny five hundred crypt keepers on Triple Zero couldn’t summon an investigation if they dared.
 
If only Fordo hadn't left so suddenly he’d likely swoop this whole matter up, slap gauze on everyone and settle the uneasy coils lining the bottom of Alpha’s stomach. Hell, they could’ve picked up drinking themselves three notches into a conga line for the friendliest Corrie approved dunk tank. 

Waste of a fucking night now. 

“First off dear boy you’re not the nervous type leading to my second point, why in the fuck would you miss the chance to get your lick back against this bawdy oligarch we exist in? Be serious.” Trantos scolding sound like still ripples to water, vaguely still enough to miss what lie beneath. “Don’t think killing you out of pity will keep Prime awake in spiritual bliss on the other side. I promise you love, knowing him? Seeing you so soon? He’d punt you straight to hell.”

“You… you piss me off so much.” Seventeen felt his eyes squeeze close to prevent an impulsive hand launch in his direction; Stec effort not to laugh weak as a jammed bloc stylus, jamming his face into his arm. “Fuck me you piss me off that’s not the point I’m making.”

“What, I lie?” Trantos winked turning his eyes down to Maze head too. “Bro.”  All the nearest fuchsia hue beams highlighting Trantos face in the bar spotlighted the fake mirth on his face. “Not to judge downward men Maze, just you look wretched.”

Maze never missed a chance to instigate one simple chat into a spat when the mood was right, it was his pastime hobby.
 
He’d never admit it, Seventeen knows. His vod’ika made a life for himself after all inside Triple Zero’s compacted jungle, regardless of the times he’s griped the frequency waves on his comm about all the administrative kazoo splinter at him. He’s earned his keep griping each brigade jedi, solider, and convenient links into gear with Arligan this long. 

That was the major benefit he earned owning up for a high functioning bastard; save the miniscule times the very same system failed him.
 
“Wretched? Fucking hell vod talk normal?” Stec grouched off Trantos far left slotting his shot glass back down on the counter. “Who says osik like that?”

“Stec.” Trantos lax vocals wrapped Alpha’ ears similarly in tune to that rattle box in his throat he’s watched top box commandos’ wince under on protocol.  “Who do you think?”

“Well not fragging me! Like, shab I meant- Maze my guy, he doesn’t, you know seem good man. Look if no one knows what wounded him up like a Kooli bat let me handle it! I can help!” Stec inhaled out all then inhaling like the next breath weren’t legal. “Someone did a thing so given I don’t know who did I can’t hit them, or the thing or blow the thing up right? But bro I know you know I should check the thing and blow it. Yeah, I’d blow it you know? Smite the goddamn thing!”
 
Alpha felt his lips curled one notch hearing something useful for once. “Wiping plasma off my star RPS sounds mighty good about now.”
 
“But then I still won’t knowwwww who did the thing about his thing!” Stec whine lopped off leaning against Trantos’ black pauldron. His shaved head compliment its scratched surface, flicking invisible specks nowhere. “You know he won’t let me blow up the command office since that man of his works there,”

“Yeah that man!” Trantos parroted gleefully, tasking himself with the effort to shimmy Maze’ wine glass over, self-cheering at his action. “General Arligan. Something about him, his jettise canvas of acute symmetry, that rugged masculinity, that Aboulian cologne he wears,”

“It’s not fair Maze get all the sleeper builds ones, you seen the build on that guy? Fucker.” Stec tsk of irritation was meet with semi empathy. “Maze, I know your moping and all but can you get his weight max? I wanna see something." 

"Oh no," Trantos blewed through his teeth. “Never meet a man eager to get his osik scrambled, he doesn’t play about his general.”
 
“Yeah? Well those are fun facts, I wanna see him shred some entrails.”  Stec grin out did Trantos own for this whistle shrill to erupt their eardrums much to his dislike. “What?”
 
“Nope, no sneaky links”. Seventeen stern tone wedged Stec and Trantos attention. “We’re here for Maze.”

“We’re multitaskers not incompetent Seventeen, lighten up.” Trantos snorted whereas Maze remained smother down like the bar countertop could absorb him whole. “Why not scoot his jettise out the way for a little rendezvous visit for pest control.”

 Alpha snorted, keeping his eyes on Maze shift motion to lull his face into his arms. “Say we take this idea,” lightly stressed the words out to meet a sustaining eyeroll following behind. “We go and it’s all busy work. Then boo fucking hoo except you’re telling me it’s not!” His next sigh would’ve stirred anyone’s soul to flight, hand raising for his streaked hairline of grey’s. “I’m not going to admin for fun, I want names on who did this.”

“No literally that’s good so I can smash Nulls skulls, but good bad for Maze writing hazard reports which means bad work equaling paperwork, still lame and I’m team no work?” Stec said. “Busy work? Busy good bad work? Busybody with a chance of assault?”

“Yum!”

“Stec okay! And you, stop that!” Alpha bemoaned in their spot adjacent the bars’ crowning floors all obnoxious and symmetrical tags of fuchsia pink everywhere. Not pink hues like skin blisters acquainted from plasma, or fists.

“I’m just saying Seventeen you think you’d be used to bullshit seeing you hand feed those CCs of yours after buir dearest.”
 
“Buir dearest. Wow.” Trantos cleared his throat to ignore them all to sip down the rest of Maze wine. “I love this, your little blase suicidal streak you’re clearing tonight.”
 
Alpha gestured his shot glass planked near Maze’s. He took it ignoring Stec’s noise of complaint.  “Stay over there so I don’t stab you? No take backsies?”
 
“Your normally not this obtuse.” Trantos answer ticked the itch to hit something building over his eyes eyeing the back of Maze’ head. “Stec just is, I’m considering fresh options for homicide,” Then startled from the intensive jerks coming from Maze shoulder blades.

“Is he seizing? Is he sick?” Stec practically leaned over Trantos pauldron to reach over, squeezing his lips inwards. “Maze?”

“Yikes.” Trantos’ teeth clicked reaching for his arm, prying it out with little resistance beneath the fuchsia spotlights. “Meg’s ru’banar at gar?” Staring at Seventeen worried as proven sin in a Genosian catacomb.
 
“This mood swing klick of yours is new, did you pick that up from your I don’t remember you doing this.” Alpha mumbled examining Maze over for injury.  Nothing seemed amiss save the weathered indents on his backplate, nothing threatening. “I’m not getting the memo on whatever this is.”

He wouldn’t admit his chest flared at Maze short noise of something barely gesturing with his fingers. “Huh?
”
No luck, his words were inaudible from his arm cocoon, ebbed slips of basic gibberish.  
 
The latter three on the other hand drew to a monumental silence, the kind emitted from shared burdens. 

“He didn’t say anything about the office today.” Stec pushed himself off Trantos, squinted eyes peering Maze’ smushed nape curls bawled under his gloved hands. The keloid scars over his nose brought out his facial lines, the mirth about him earlier dissipated. “His general’s pressing more work on him?”
 
“Man’s spits too many peace mantras so scratch that.” Seventeen crossed his arms together. “The man’s deals with fifty dozen spec-ops house pets, if anything he’s barreling in paperwork with buddy here.”
 
“Capsaicin works ya know.” Trantos toss down another shot glass down without fail to smack down fast. “I’m always in the mood for love though now I’m peckish for retribution.”

“Yes!” 

“Stop,” Alpha bit through Stec’s whine of displeasure. “We’re not dishing sympathy gifts for those fucks,” 

“Antihistamines can multitask under discretion before you fucking start.” Trantos asked, staring beyond the walls in front of them. “I try not to overthink office nitpicks beyond disciplinary gossip Seventeen-that's boring. Dull Seventeen, dry as rancor drops.” His hand pressed on the back of Maze’ neck his hand skittishly pressing over the anterior of his neck. 

“Big boys like us never played fair in the first place.” That calm facade on his face refuted how dark his eyes were staring Maze over. “His neck feverish.” 

“If,” Stec said aloud, watching the brew lines patching lines of discord over the older ones faces. “If he’s like this because of you know,” gesturing loosely this wobbly circle of a face withdrawing off Trantos. “The dude who ain't our bro, he works with him. Borbo?”

“Ordo.”

“Right. We nabbin him or we’re gonna sit around playing duck duck goose!?” Stec pressed, banging the edge of the counter loud enough to crack something. “Why aren’t we doing something?”

“In the millisecond it takes for you to shut the fuck up.” Seventeen abruptly got off his bar stool to better stand over Maze to look down the back of his neck not poking out his turtleneck. He could taste crimson trailing the far back of his throat ready to spit venom at whoever wants it. "And while we're at it let’s get something straight.”

His voice rang low inside the sound vault of club swing saturating the air. “Don’t think I’m here with you shitheads all to ignore what’s happening here.” The plain anger morphing Stec face didn’t faze him how the prickly sensation cross stitching into his lungs did. “Either you cool off or fuck off.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do with my feelings.” Stec seized Seventeen up par equilibrium, miniscule veins pulsing over his neck where his turtleneck couldn’t hide it. The more they stood there the louder their silence grew compared to the swaying notes circling them in their own dance line. 

“Why not.” Seventeen said in the tense cloud they stirred up, eyeing down the others’ gaze staring him off bucket shoved aside. “You mad at what I said?”  

“He ain't good man,” Stec forced out harshly biting into his lips under the strobe lights glowing effects atop the crown of his hair. “I get it, I don’t see ori’vod much like you do, you know him oh so much yeah yeah yeah! That doesn’t mean I can’t not care man. Fucking haran.” Stec cleared his throat eyes becoming too misty for comfort.

Trantos was silent, eyes peeled to Seventeen’ face divesting infinity loops on the tinted glass he completed. The darkness of his eyes peeled in purple strobe lights might’ve swallowed his entire face had Seventeen glance at him for too long before the slight motion of Maze moving nearer his arms dropped his attention away.
 
Seventeen frowned under the two gazes pinning him before making to point towards the back of Maze’ peppered hair beneath the sheen transcalent spotlights casting vertical lines across the four of them. “Fuckers really get on my nerves I mean, truly.”

Were it not for circumstances Trantos might've pointed out his own eyes beneath the poppy glamour of this rinky establishment were murkily opaque, their glass sheen contributed to his gravitas staring them down.

Even under the eyes of judgement Trantos couldn't help the bottle quirk of his lips, memorizing the obscene notes of anger he hasn't witness for some time. Someone's going to get it. 

“They. Did. This. I. Want. Names.”  Seventeen jerked each word out his mouth on a decimal shorter than the last. He made one amicable tug on Maze pauldron to hoist him up, eyeing Stec tense staring against Trantos lax one sipping out his own glass. “We’re leaving.” 

“You want help?” 

“No.” Seventeen heaved, breathing down the familiar anger he inherited; not anger meant for aloof tantrums. “I’m getting this tyke back to the dorms. Stec’ika, snoop us the nearest taxi.”

“Right.” Were the only words Seventeen caught before he hauled him away nothing short of pissed. On the Richter scale of visible looks, taking in Maze appearance, he didn’t appear well now that he stood upright. His face was far too warm for comfort pressed up to Seventeen own, these darkened blotches running across his cheeks; slow wheezes racketing from the back of his throat. The pomade in his hair wasn’t visible like usual, too many black peppered hair curls smooching the side of Seventeen’s face. 

Violent thoughts dotted red sparks in his corneas, swallowing another inhale at Maze’s visible tear lines. 

Maze eyes caught his, the bars fuchsia lights cast over them within its syncopated flares of music and chatter, ill-inducing. The wheezing from before sounded like the effort inflated him the longer, they managed through its crowd. Even noticeably neon red line stockings he sighted out the far corner of his eyes, the dance he knew was about to perform. 

A damn shame. 

Seventeen couldn’t charge them out of the bar fast enough, faster blurs of bodies, drowsy seduction, one-three-four two-five-four count beats bouncing from Slemmo’ drums with the jazz band on the far-middle end of the bar. The trek out the cantina walls seemed to morph under his feet; one step, no step, wheezing breaths, four. The heat radiating off Maze forehead might’ve sludge Seventeen’ face off in any holed-off environment outside this one. 

He couldn’t walk them to the exit fast enough.
 
“Sorry.” Left Maze throat at a decibel, sneaking in a wet inhale. “Guess it’s my lucky day.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Seventeen looped the memory of stagnant tears at hand elbowing the bar doors open with the strength of cosmic flares. Hearing Maze boots scrape the floors steeled him enough to hoist him one step “What happen to work confidentiality eh? Won’t this turn out another lousy Taungsday waiting for you to forget?” 

Maze response if he had one was lost under the grey noise of the industrial district, they’d squeeze themselves in, his breath developing this strained noise. They’d always done good to understand another without fanfare, there was plenty to keep them separated as were. Just dealt with their lot in life, bare it for kote, ijaat, bal mirshko.  

Seventeen frowned at Maze’ attempt for comfort, feeling his arms crook around his shoulders. He wouldn’t move his head off the side of his pauldron, eyes visibly scrunched close. “You’re telling me your mopey like this over that fucking Skirata brat I’m dropping you.”
 
“Don’t.” Maze spoke a syllable half efforted with protest, his wheezing labored like he’d run miles without fear. “It wasn’t.”
 
“You goddamn liar.” Seventeen eyes took in the night sky above them, illuminated from vast cargo ships and airspeeders, sirens, those dorky patrol blimps of the CSF. All the extravaganza of Triple Zeros’ vast dome, void of silence perpetuated from grey noise, hazards, bio-dangers he couldn’t sight with the naked eye. All unending and restless, hundreds of miles from reach. “You been mopey all night plus your feverish which case, you best be grateful I didn’t drag your ass to a clinic.”

Even with Maze leaning on him the longer they stood in the side alley he couldn’t avoid the discomfort of Maze shivering again. The man was shivering like he’d finished a long brought of cryotherapy or something he must’ve caught then.

“If I'm such a bother why go this far,” 

The tone in Maze voice sounded so unlike him he had to remind himself it wasn’t a stranger holding onto him. A capsize knot stitched itself into Seventeen’ stomach, sniffing in the cold air. “And you're pissing me off.” 

Maze hoarse burst of laughter sounded bitter, resigned in triple zero’s foggy atmosphere. “Whatever.” A long sigh, maybe one meant for privacy caught Seventeen’ ears, Maze hair tickling his nose where he turned his head. “I can’t do this with you right now. I’m tired.”

Familiar footsteps caught Seventeen ears before their voices did, the optical blue dotting Trantos face proving little to hide his concern. “I got you twos buckets, your welcome.” Stec said pacing to stand along with them, pensive in his grip on their bucket helms. “There’s a night service to escort us a block from the barracks, won’t take too long.” 

“We got another issue love, whether Mazi here needs convalescence leave or not.” Trantos spoke.

“Obviously he’s not doing good about now.” 

“I’m aware, leading to our next issue” Trantos spoke slowly as if doding speaking the news aloud from noisy strangers. “Convalescence leave is for officials which under all duress’s should include buddy here. Except it won’t.”
 
“Impossible he’s a captain.” Seventeen snapped, readjusting Maze weight where it wouldn’t make his knees ache. “There shouldn’t be a hold-up.”

“As Mazi supervisor Zey would have to sign off on it to be reviewed by the committee love.” Trantos tongue clicked. “Even if we take him to med bay, let him sleep this off, our boy is sick.  And it’s not that I don’t trust Zey to do his obligations,”

“You don’t.” 

“Well, no I do let me speak?” Trantos sighed, ignoring Stec grunt to swallow what sound like deeply rooted vexing.  “My faith in Zey is unprecedented, I don’t trust the response after the fact. Zey’ is a dream though a jetti still end of the day. Muscles or not. Nayc koor.”
  
Stec blinked, sporadically popping his knuckles against his sides, two buckets hanging in his arms how improv tip yip wings. “You don’t want Borbos in on this.”

The feeling of unease mocking Seventeen before grabbed his attention again and this time he didn’t refute it, realizing it was all appointed to the one hanging off him. “Oi.” 

Maze’ head swayed, the rogue color blotching his face showing sweat drops marking his forehead as his arms pulled off Seventeen’, further hunching over. His lips were parting in this silent panting, gathering his lungs slowly and slower. 

Seventeen cursed, hands reached to clasp his stomach, but Maze was quicker; abruptly dropping to his knees.
 
Maze precisely then threw up, heavily retching to everyone’s surprise. Seventeen couldn’t hear anything beyond the sight of Maze’ hunched over body expelling bile from his body.

His bile was purple spreading, gathered and spreading right for his boots for whatever wasn’t caught already, and Maze’ gloves. It took Maze vomiting that much for Seventeen to spot this miniscule mark on his face, vaguely unimportant considering what was happening. 

“Damn.” Seventeen cursed, stepping behind Maze over doing something reckless. Placing a hand on his back was better than nothing. “Goddamn Maze you gross fuck.” 

“Hey. Guys?” and Stec was gesturing loosely in the direction outside the alley, pensively watching the three of them. He hadn’t even noticed he’d stepped away from them. “What should I tell the cabbie, he’s round front.” 

“Tell him we’re coming, make sure he doesn’t leave.”  The usual quick answer verbatims’ he dishes didn’t seem the right call this late at night.  Trantos had squatted beside Maze in his efforts again speaking too long to notice. 

Stec stalling over leaving made Seventeen sigh again. “What.” 

 He wouldn’t stop popping his knuckles.  It took a lot to unnerve Stec, meeting Seventeen eyes after what felt the longest sparse seconds shedded off Seventeen life.“Are we taking him to Kamino if he doesn’t get better soon.” Stec asked nothing short of terse.  

“Negative. We have the watch until further notice.” Seventeen heaved deeply, blinking the stinging sensation for sleep away.  “He’ll be okay shortly, so will you.” Taking that moment to spot Stec lip wobble before he clamped them together realizing it himself.  “Now get going, I’ll be right here when you get back.” 

Stec eyes flashed with something looking to spot Maze weakish tremors behind Seventeen, still biting in his lips. He nodded, leaving them no less with the industrial vents humming down the alley. 

“Don’t apologize Mazi, douse it all out your system.” Trantos voice revered down the alley, Seventeen catching him pinning Maze hair curls off his face; his chrono transmitter lighting over Maze ill parlor. Maze was uselessly wiping his face over, his tremors still apparent just to retch all over again. “We’ll handle all this muck won’t we Seventeen.” That revered empty stare of his caught Seventeen own before Maze next full-bodied tremors distract him. “Your nerves are shot seems it.” 

The smudges of purple bile on the side give of his boots wiped off with enough side swings at the ground. “Sure, yeah lets go with that.” He answered, reaching to press down on Maze back again then reaching for Maze neck again. “Better than piss I take it, fuck me.”

So his thyroid gland was swollen, confirming earlier speculation he made. “Captain duties tend too at five sharp and I doubt Zey arrives that early. That’s more than enough time to flip something.”
 
Trantos stare turned sickly relaxed though his eyes presented on their vod’ika silent troubles. “Indeed.”

 Seventeen eyes closed just three seconds too long just to ignore Trantos smugness awaiting his unsaid question. The late response of Stec voice coming to mind brought additional weariness he nearly forgot.

He’ll comm Ford later.
 
“When this all cools off you owe me big time Maz’ika. Partaylir ibac.” The remnants of tonight's adventures settled like soured paste in his throat to the pungent smell of sick blooming, liken aroma incenses carved into the Temples quarters last he recalls. 

What the hell even was this night anyway. 

Chapter Text

A Edee sergeant made quick work of his handiwork to wrap up the drab monotone beat of the day walking beneath the barracks outer pavilion towards its entryway. Really it was any standard day post assignment, he and the others in mid-crash stasis had scattered for their preface hobbies, hobbling around until the next assignment.

They’d handle check-in a night ago, this was his follow up report and straight back to bed swears on his soul.

That was his intended plan. 

“I’m take it you haven’t heard and or seen General Xi thanks to the paparazzi doozy have you?”

Well then. “No?” Boss fumbled, catching the man he’d least expected so unexpectedly. “Sir?”

Maze, his bucket clipped on his belt, all iron and less smiles had this unrecognizable expression standing in front of the dark hallway he emerged from, uttering something he didn’t catch. From the likes of it the office seemed closed off where he stood at the entryway doors.

“Mmm course you have." Maze pressed on causally. "Oh you’re not familiar? Well, walk with me.”

That wasn’t a question, Boss stared down the ARC back walking past him for the pavilion's breezeway, kama ends swinging around his ankles. Weren’t the man made to be indoors-

Boss feigned slight interest in masking his annoyance before he dipped his head, picking up the pace for a semi run to catch up. “Captain what’s happening?”

“We’re conversing Sergeant.” Maze said cordially, taking a sidestep to make room for Boss on their trek; his right hand flying over his holo-pad light visceral thuds. "Intel scoops and gossip scoops are on the menu today." 

“You said reporters got in, legit Coruscanti reporters?  How?” Boss tried. “What’s with this walking shtick?”  

“No having journalist rat gets through the perimeter unless they’re suicidal yet one of our Navy admins had a knacker for tag all." Maze replied. "General Xion took some rendezvous romps in the Ecousti district and some rat- vendetta perhaps, old flame? Jealous ex whomever- they worm all the way to some gossip slag for shoddy limelight.”

“Yikes.” Boss couldn’t help his surprise, studying the man’ head shake. He prefers ignorance over whether his generals were getting freaky on the sparse days he barely sleeps enough to humanely function. “Talk about embarrassing.”

“If Xi had a preference for self-immolation I’d too rather not know;  makes my job a little tricky when I have to explain to the council why Zey is handling sensationalist news for a gossip column.” Maze voice didn’t hold the annoyance, rather low-pitched tenor notes spilling from his diaphragm. “You have questions- there was a power outage in the office this morning, electrical techs are on it. Now then.”

Boss blinked at the pause, stalling to answer in the quiet.What could he offer then? “Now then, oh right.” Feeling slightly foolish, he passed his typed report he’s holding, taking to heart how Maze eyes narrowed reading down his briefing. 

He never aimed to outmaneuver the man in official mandate reporting though off the sheer quiet of Maze expression it was enough to make him slight. Had he messed up somewhere about the initial findings, had he forgotten anything, something that may’ve kark it up-

“Is something bothering you Boss?”

He wasn’t aware Maze voice could do that, again his low tone jarringly ...nice to hear after pumping iron and Helter-skelter panic in the underground tunnels on Sakreen.  “Nothing sir.” Best not to overthink it too much it was his brain spelling tricks on him to speed this transaction up.

A strange look crossed Maze face and it dispatched before Boss could pin what exactly he was looking for. “Very quaint of you.” Maze uttered, the give of his hand reaching for the dome of his hair, pushing two fingers into his brushed back hair producing a stylus pen.

“We had a good time on Sakreen, we made it out that iron trap without torpedoing that place sky high.” Boss stifled a yawn, blinking obnoxious sleep weariness out his tone.

Maze offers his hum, signing off his incap report all in method time. “Extreme weather jumping never been my forte so I’ll take you on that.”

“What kind of ARC doesn’t like adventure?” Boss blurted out. “Don’t you all,” jerking his chain at what he said aloud. “I mean,” he mumbled off slighted by his own words.

Maze stared at the commando this expectant blank gaze until his lips turned up. “Go on,” he motions, eyes small as stilts watching Boss moves. He never wavered, too sharp, too crisp and unrecognizable. “Yes?”

 Boss could feel his head moving before his lips did, winded at the murky stare he received. “Just a bad joke sir, think nothing of it.”

He watched Maze eyes shift onwards beneath the shaded pavilion they stood under before he spoke again. “I don’t mind storm jumping so tell me rather, you ever coasted atop lilies the size of tanks in a valley of ghostbells?”

Boss head dipped forcing his brain to comply. “Tank flowers? Like plant lilies?”

“Large as seven men standing shoulder to shoulder.” His nearest hand with the stylus moved over motioning at him. He complied, raising his hand next to Maze own, noting the way the ARC shifted gears, tablet non-assuming in the crook of his arm.

“I’ll keep this short, picture a lily pad wide as a squadron and their jettise in width with wiggle room for one TK. Pretty purple lilies strong enough to jump on and firm as your palm. So impressive.” Maze voiced. “A fragrant lively lily of the bells fluttering a little existence with its sister bells in valleys deep as a subterranean caves. Your so gobsmack at its existence you fail to notice it’s marked you for lunch.”

“Beautiful simple pets, terribly sensitive to people’s disposition.” His voice brewed iron withdrawing his fist back, his smile flighty. “It only takes one harsh word, hell even someone in your party in a bad mood standing on them to start talking and then.”

The ghost smile on Maze lips didn’t settle, the creak in his gloves stretching as Boss watched, fixated at the man’s chilly words. “Sensitive creatures can harbor worser intentions than known disasters if you’re apathetic. A storm’s coming.”

“Zey won’t be in touch until the paparazzi cloud scurries off so here it is, you are your men are going to Zatois suns to deal with a hostage extraction in a few days. The situations being monitored for now; what we know are there were initial negotiations on supply extractions, things got hazy for a standoff with the transports biggest suppliers mooching pocket change.”

“Sounds fun.” Boss said sighting a group of buzzed cuts and clean buckets trailing dust on the opposite side of the low mumble pavilion. He couldn’t help himself then sighting visible signs of vod’e who hasn’t experienced the worst of what’s to come, too clean, too hopeful. “Shinies huh? They keep popping out younger n younger these days.”

 “They got the stuff, I ran into Ze squadron back there.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Per verbatim they need their osik rocked.” Maze not-smile was back, observing. That same stylus pen from before was coasted back into his curls laxed like before. “The cheek of it all.”

Stirred curious Boss could only watched Maze walk off right in their direction on a clear mission; the unsuspecting group tittering on in their bubble.

“Traatika, ke’sush.” The boom in Maze voice set the courtyard to ice, its target bewildered at the noise, visible surprise on each copied face trying to source it. Boss caught the rear ends stance of the groups vod look back, face paling at the sight of Maze silent stalk towards them, motioning to the front.

Boss couldn’t help his sympathetic wince, oh their cooked. “Probably to give them the chew down of the century.”

Yet Boss thoughts betrayed him at Maze then departure from the group seemingly unbothered making right for the pavilion sidewalk. He tossed Boss this simple glance over his shoulder when he made it. “Coming?”

Boss made triple sure to hide his dismay again walking to catch up with the man now on the opposite side of the admins office. “Did you know that team like Ze Squad?”

“Statistically I’m working on it.”

That dumbfound him some unsure what more to say. “Oh.” Drawing them to this short pause of silence, the occasional honks and yells from the city streaming Boss ears. 

Maybe since he was tired, the grey noise of the megametroplis and the ARC comfortable sharpening silence made his mind wander. He's never given the man profile much focus but here he noticed how heavy Maze side profile were, numerous gray hairs streaking more towards his back ends than not.

“In some Mandalorian houses they’d take staring as invitation to court each other. Are you pulling the moves on me eevaar’la jag?”

That popped his sleepy bubble startling Boss. “Huh? What no, no! I was uh,”

Maze smile turned hard enough to blight the sun. “I’m joking.”

“Capt you scare the haran out of me talking that.” Boss heaved, taking a second to regulate his heart kick starting where it was in his throat. “You can’t throw that on a guy out on these streets, I'm not you know, looking at you like that,” trailing off at Maze smile dropping coming to a standstill. He watched his tablet moving to another belt loop and wonder if he was about to learn other flirting techniques. “Meg cuyir bic?”

“A naasade.” Maze answers giving him the last of his amusement. His jaw flexed this vein coursing the latter of his neck before he diffused. 

Boss blinked, trying to piece him out.

“It’s rude to lurk Ordo, you could’ve joined us way back.” Maze said aloud before turning, spotting the Null several feet away among the long trek of the intercrossing pathways leading on and around the property. "I might've said yes."

Having that jumpscare Boss again blinked turning with him. He should’ve been more aware his surroundings thinking on it, he hadn’t plan on catching the man either today. "Shoot!" Boss puttered on his next move, typically he doesn’t keep tabs on either of them just assumed they got on by and by. It was always awkward seeing these legendary verbal fallouts he’s heard about and now he’s in the middle of an incoming one- shoot!

“I pushed through nine harans looking for you why are you out here?” Ordo was to the point storming over from his distance further down the sidewalk, his shoulders moving with purpose-eyes dispatching over the ARC signs of deceit. “We need to talk.”

“Sure, main office had a power outage; Boss here was receiving ops intel from me with the general away. Problem?”

Boss blinked, how does he do that? Maze sounded monotonous as if repeating words of a propagated holo-ad script, his face unreadable again.

“Yes problem, making this why we need to talk. Right now.” Ordo stepped onwards before coasting the space where Boss stood to get in Maze face.

“I can move out the way.” Boss frowned at the intrusive actions. Damn cheap stake.

“You’re aiming too low kih'vod I’ll do you better.” Maze quipped and with one clean sidestep Boss found the weight of his Captain’s arm hatched around his shoulder, the man pressed to his side in relax comradery from a outside view.

Seeing the Null shift his stare towards the man Boss wondered if this were less distraction than diversion.

“Ah this seems like much,” Boss tried to settle the thick tension in the air between the latter, glancing over to Ordo to sight the worse case of stormy ire over his expression. “Shoot he’s pissed.”

“Contrary I work better when I’m not harassed by men with the gall of boars!” Maze huffed, indifferent seems to Ordo mounted frustration and Boss light sweating.

Ordo looked at Maze, really looked. “I don’t know no boars like I know you don’t listen ARC, too hard headed to reason with. So let me make this crystal clear.”

“Yes please- clearly I need it, my poor composition lacks the ears for your sonic boom.” Maze mildly started. “You were saying?”

A look Boss notes more common on Fixer face when his chromo servers shut off shaded Ordo face. Like he swallowed too many roonan lemons. “What’s your deal all of a sudden acting like this.”

“Oh I don’t know probably you, your visceral chain vices. Your looks, your half-arse foot stance, your lack of cologne, your decorum, your gall.”

Ordo slack mouth response running this back will have Boss in hysterics later but then in the moment trying to diffuse it Boss had to open his mouth. “No offense Ordo if you need to talk- “

“Do me a favor stay out of this” Ordo dusted him, mimicking him to stop. “Your no better getting in grown men business.”

“Now that’s an idea.” Boss shot off, the trigger flare to retort unlocked really out off annoyance. “Except Maze here out of pity wants to spare a inch so maybe you need those assessment checkups."

"It’ll help.” Boss mind screamed burun burun burun, flashbangs of panic locking his limbs and yet. “It’ll do us all some good won’t it?”

Both Captains looked his way in sync; the quickness of it all one ferocious to another decked brow tic. Ordo was so close the heat radiating off might’ve triggered a magma meltdown streaking miles long temper be damned. That mug of his screamed pissy enough to kill.  

Oh, he’s done for. He’s on the chopping block, swallowing the last of his cold fear down ready to rumble.

Ordo reached out but Maze stepped quicker.

“Oh, oh, oh oh oh oh, I adore cock fights just not,” His free arm shoved against Ordo sternum like a rocket launch easing the man a foot out their face. “This.”

“You heard the man, we’ll catch up shortly so need for the tantrum, vod.” Maze spoke more with a sneer, decking the full use of his strength to step in front of Boss hackles raised. “Go find your lady, find some ashwagandha to drink its really good but most of all hop off my ass.” He stressed the last word, carrying that against the winds skirting the courtyard.

Ordo seemed ready to grab Maze as well, the defiant rise of his mouth exhaling, eyeing him down at full capacity a Null were capable of emitting.

Maze didn’t respond, only blinking saccharine hues contradicting the Null in every way possible, his arm nearing Boss mid-raise on Boss shoulder. “It’s not clocking to you NULL that I’m standing on business. Rinse that piss out your mouth and breathe a little.”

Timing be damned Boss had to bite in his lips to destroy the suicidal urge to smile even with his heart hammering.  Forget his nap he wouldn't make it out this spot if they started boxing. All it would take was one outside error and he’d be the heart of this civil war. Maze on the opposite hand wasn't done.

“I already know what you want, I caught wind of the Denshi incident again all this morning alright? Ox and Nue squads were sent to investigate whether Denshi was a freak accident or another domino for Omega squad and Etain to go check out. Maybe if you weren’t off on your little rendezvous you’d know.”

With nothing to lose Boss watched Maze pull his arm back around his shoulder and with that swooshed around the Null, the man simply staring. Was he shocked maybe or was he planning to hand them their shebs the millisecond they look off.

“We’ll be in touch, Ordo.” Maze said finally looking over his shoulder, ending it there walking them away from the t-zone. Boss couldn’t hear anything behind them the longer they walked, listening for sure signs the man would crash out on them any millisecond now. They departed shortly to another walking trail leading towards the recreational center on the opposite side of the barracks.  The quiet of the urban jungle beyond the barracks soon blimp to a mute hum when at last Boss could only hear again the happenings of his brothers milling around them in different directions.

He couldn’t stop replaying the standoff between Maze and Ordo, still peeping his Captains expression, frown corners pulling at his mouth. His arm around his shoulder rather a burden grounded him, allowed him to focus on the silent strength the ARC gave off barely trying.

The weirdest thing of all, even more than facing the embodiment of death itself was that he smelled the man's cologne. It wasn’t obnoxious, it was subtle, something he knows he's never smell but just enough to draw noses with wander.

He should say something to break the silence, shouldn’t he? “Did you actually catch everything before the power outage happened?”

Like a mirage broken Maze relaxed, still upholding his posture. “Nope.”

Boss stared this time no longer fearing repercussions mouth agape. “Nah you? Shoot Capt.” He couldn’t help himself grinning like an idiot. The balls on this guy could wrap titanium if he stood up like that more.

Feeling more at peace with himself he relaxed looking over at the Captain and in that margin noticed numerous thin lines behind Maze ear, gnarly keloid scars.

The last weak twitches of life struggling to make it warbled wheezes, barley flinted efforts to move their hand. They reached, vying for what no longer matters, or what was no longer relevant. Just the inevitable fade of the senses for every sunrise never to be felt again.

Only five feet away a man was seated on a crate, waiting. Another raised from Prime substantial teachings, dress in his ARC gear though he's indifferent to it mostly; keeping his distance. The white patches in his hair shine beneath the bulb light of the sanction room they resided in. He like the first also awaited the end carrying a bore expression for the latters final swan song.

He watched; eyes fixated on the iron smell coasting the crimson cresent spooling under the deadman clothes. “Times up mano. I hope you said your prayers.”

The latter man now on time scraps watched, bloodshot eyes widening staring to keep that connection; iron spit bubbles addressing his lips before seizing.

That focus in his eyes had blown out, finally pulled into oblivion. The man with little who forged little to prove for it, sighed, offering one gargle shuffle for life. As the other slipped away by kyr’am tigaanur, the latter responded, offering overt sarcastic applause.

“God let me out this hellhole from these charred cultists freaks.” ARC 66, Muzzle as he prefered said sarcastically getting up to initiate stretching, arms reaching down for his ankles. He motion for his wrist comm, waiting on his correspondent partner. "71 hey, its me. Its finished."

“Muzzle please tell me we’re done with this place it's creeping me out okay? The hairs on my shebs are standing up his goon squad will be here any second.”

“You said we had four hours.”

“Yeah, well that’s ah, that’s not happening.” His partner staticky voice from their tie fighter spoke through his wrist comm now speaking to his ankles. “They come in and see their big egg scrambled they’ll freak!”

“He was already dying fore we got here, anyone with eyes could see the man was sick. I’m thinking TB right thur.”

“Right thur?”

“Ewowuh, ah,” Muzzle tsked at his disbelief looking at the final mimicry of a nobody lying a few feet away. Assisting the man with his ego tricks for some foolish pipe dream meant little to the ARC. “Yeah yeah, uhm. Hey Jay?”

“Nope,” Jay accented rasp snapped the energy in the room. “Save the yap private and get your shebs out of their and back on this ship before it’s tits up! Tell me you got what we come for though.”

Muzzle offered a semi-noise in response at long last pulling out his down stretch to exit the room altogether, leaving the man isolated in that dingy room post-mortem. “Yeah. No need for the tip Yip I’m coming...”

The ARC kept sure to keep his steps light stepping out the room to greet vacant air residing in the building cylinder dome walls. Where he stood at the entryway was close to the stairways ledge leading to the exit he routed out on the fifth floor. He stood on the forty-eighth one, ears open for signs of the man’s crewmates, his blaster felt like small vibrations tickling his hand compared to the nozzle compressors jutting away from his holster perch.

He memorized prior this assignment the tower dome he stood within only exhibited two exits, the one on the fifth floor the other vaguely mentioned in the building plans or the pre-mortem droid guards. 

Maze sighed, taking a moment to look down past the railing to what lay below, thinking. The easiest way out was clearly a fly trap; the other plan was based off his mood.  “If I make it down to the fifth, spot the others it could mean bye-bye building with the Goldian architecture.”

“Muzzle what does that even matter you’re on a time crunch.”

“I like its Goldian architecture.” Muzzle said defensively, using the moment to snap holo-shots via bucket of the ornate brass alloy trim covering the full sphere of the tower’s enormous stairway. He made for the alloyed stairway from the left side so to catch pop-up heads best he could in the dark. “Sides, this old funnel dump got some of the best bronze arching values I’ve seen yet and the bronze plating?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah Jay the plating! Its apart of the Republics architect guild and the casting is the last of three open designs native to this planet."  Mid-way through the first descent of stairs echoes of wind hitting metal made him freeze, paying attention to its soundwave.

“You getting any life signals in this old bid?”

“Don’t jinx me Jay it's like every time you go hey, getting any signals and then"

"A fuck hold of bastards comes out of nowhere!” Muzzle whispered into his wrist comm, moving closer to the walls to balance himself before opting for his glow rod. That with the snag catch of his M-8 now in his hands gave him slight reprieve coasting the pitch-dark tower walls. “New plan, I wall press right to this secret exit or plan B, get caught scooching my shebs over the walls and light this boy up.”

He heard Jay surprise hum. “I take it no wall samples then?”

“I cut more off the crumbly wall bits and bundled in my stash.”  

“Oh my god how brave and smart you are, you twit.” Muzzle reframed snipping back, changing his stance more on defense. 

"Thanks Jay." Muzzle uttered scanning the area most visible from his buy'ce. Jay mostly kept his mouth shut as Muzzle shifted back into focus, each step downwards more careful than the last.

This odd nudge came over him past the mid-way point stepping down the ornate carved stairs he moved upon, side checking his kama skirts wouldn’t cause issues.

Though unsure, he should schedule a check-in back on triple zero. A visitation never scared anyone.

“Aye I’m getting a reading- you got company, about thirty coming in hot near the tower perimeter.” Jay voice cut through his semi-formed imagination recentering his focus. “Likely armed, same group from this morning and from what looks it from my spot... ready to squabble.”

An uncharted smile graced Muzzle face accidentally beneath his buy’ce pacing just one notch faster to reach the landing between the forty-eighth now forty-seventh floor. “Good!”

He wiggled his little idea to Jay once he boarded their T-fighter after this commercial exercise of the day.

Chapter Text

“On average the chances of this reoccurring like this should’ve been moot.”  Higgs’ words starched onto Seventeen thoughts like tack glue, rowdy noises from space transports and mega-metropolitan screeching now ambiance he’s memorized to code. 

“You see this right.” The capsule box placed in his hands weighed no less a kilo.  “Stamp that in his dome next time he gets smart with you over this.” Higgs thumb and index finger about breached another eyeing his package on a satisfied nod.  “This wasn’t supposed to happen again.”

A stream of exhalation next to spitting from 17 lungs, weighing the world one pill bottle at a time cuffed in his palms. He couldn’t stop reading small font Aurebesh over and over again on the bottles, the pain reliever bottle turned two bottles now four-

Higgs never found the appeal of med droids for his outpatient appointments; he’s more small smiles and grandiose precision to solve issues. Grabbing the needed meds for Maze were a hitch so there was the aftermath.  

The fire escape he stood on offered numerous outlet routes connecting un-synced routes, plaster walls, holographic mirages and hot grease spittle luring his senses down the wrapped alley he stood in down, down beyond the industrial hedge of the first cosmopolitan floors of this city. It far easy to lose track of self with the world divested over your shoulders yet still vibrating, pulsing, enforcing life beneath your feet.

He should focus, unlocking his jaw for the umpteenth time in the hour pushing hints of exhaustion away. It's already late, shake the slack off Seventeen. 

The agenda:

Accost medicine.

Track Grey down to discuss his new crop of shinies – prep them for first examination test on Jubaim.

Don’t message Ford.

Maze medicine case in point the wrapped box pressed in his palm. Do not lose in Silouy alley, do not get swindled out said meds in Silouy alley.

Meet up with Windu to discuss grips he was spotted over off the gram; see what’s dragging Master Yoda enough to wind up his shebs too. Soothe that all over in some motion.

Reconcile with_______.

A brush of unease crosses him the far longer their name thrummed tried and test rejections of nerves out him; best not open that can of worms. “My god you’re joking.” 17 scoffed leaning the full of his weight against the grime scale complex walls he leaned against.

The stale taste of persimmons lingered in his mouth as he fought the urge to ignore the brisk blip of his communicator, longing for another distraction. He resists just this once holding it close to distract the drag of sleep out his mouth. “What.”

“You got it?”

“Let me think on it,” he drawled sarcastically. “Did something happen between you and Higgs?”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know he more annoying than usual when we spoke, I know he’s in your bubble.” 17 said weighing whether to mention any more by Stec silence. He should’ve been thinking about food-

Wait, he hasn’t marked that earlier with the guy who’d know what to feed a sick man dang farrick. “What do you think Maz’ika stomach can handle right now?”

"You told him I'm here." 

The alleyway he was behind lead into Silouy night market for the deadbeats and graveyard workers was open; he could smell something, somethings were cooking in the nook corners he'll have to squeeze through. "He ran into Jak yesterday near Gohjak arena to test out his new launcher upgrades." Seventeen gave, noting Stec tsk! at the youngest Muunilinst mention. "And no I didn't." 

The lack of answers drew him attention after a bought of silence, tapping the glass screen off his wrist for good measure. “Ding dong ditch?”

“Don’t.” The scoff in Stec voice had edge in it. “Look Sevie I don’t know what to tell ya.”

“Okay.” 17 answered idly, feeling the crease in his forehead making leeway. “No green onions if that’s how you feeling.”

“I mean onions are good. Cucumbers with tomatoes, uh, add some honey in there could work.”

“What alone? I’m not forcing him to mow that down he’s not a Lepi. I don’t think his stomach can handle that.”

“Bro don’t worry on all that the nights young.  Maybe we can get him something in a bit before Trantos gets back.”

“So how he’s doing.”

“Sleep.” Stec voice caught in static fry strained against the duplex alleyway. “Still out just he’s bad vod. Really bad I mean, his shakes got him rattling like a strung-out bot off their fluids. I’m trying to keep him warm you know, all the blankets, got some extra ones and heat packs n’ slack. All the things vod I mean. Its.”

“It’s a lot.” Stec rasped and Seventeen grimaced.  “Anyhow enough of that, your question.” Seventeen didn’t need to see Stec face to envision that wayward smirk. “Yeah, I ah, I uhm, I did something.”

Seventeen as far as he were concerned was ready to smite Stec through the call the longer Stec wouldn’t answer, this sudden quiet gesture aggravating. “Spit it out.” Surely whatever the man said wasn’t that bad.

“Okay I left his useless shebs right where he wanted and got what I needed off his friend. Boom.”

“Seventeen quickly inhaled through his surprise taking in Stec statement. “You didn’t.” 17 stated, coughing suddenly into his arm. “Fuck no!”

“17,”

“N O dumbass do you hear yourself? Do you hear the syllables outta my lips?” 17 stressed, peering around to check for noisy busybodies who might’ve overheard being in this stationed neighborhood. All on account of a conversation he wasn’t privy too. “Tell me you didn’t fuck his friend.”

“I did.” Stec voiced through his transmitter static. “And let me tell you maybe if 14 wasn’t a fucking loser we could’ve had something cept 14 wouldn’t commit and I wasn’t doing all highs and lows osik- again- down the shit blender. Anything else?”

“……………...Damn.” Seventeen squeezed back a retort ready to fly off the hinges. It wouldn’t do much by offering useless advice on stuff he didn’t know about beyond his observations. “Okay- fuck Stec you’re a piece of work.”

“Ni don’t kar’taylir meg gar mean? I mean okay I have to tell you something.”

“Aha.”

“14 being a goddamn bastard- I had it- enough right! I had to let myself from the guy shake his claws outta me. So, I met his guy once out with General Tauinh. He’s nice, stationed mainly between the guards and Navy detail. Ditzy.”

“Eh.”

“He’s so tall Sevie, I swear eight feet. I love.”

Seventeen gave this uncommitted noise from the back of his throat utterly complexed at it all, the faint idea of cucumbers added to his grocery list. “You could’ve done better.”

“Nuh uh the height did it for me,”

“Absolutely not.”

“No why?”

“A ultra-violation, the disadvantage point?” Seventeen scoffed off the wandering question about his sticks. “Say I’m hunching a guy, he can look down on the top of my head and see what I’m thinking?” Seventeen gave this hiss of annoyance fighting the reactive nerve to recheck his medicine stash to recall where he placed his tin case. “Spare me the part where that happens n kill me.”

“Yeesh no love for you huh.” Crashed his ears, making good on his effort to tune his ears to the quiet of the back alleys he stood in. “Remind me not to introduce you two and on record sick people shouldn’t eat gi dumplings- pog is better.”

“You tell me how pog can help Maze quit puking I might consider it,”

“That’s beyond me right now vod I’m on attendant duty not chef sooooooooo bring some onions back. And brisket!”

“Excuse me?”

“Your so excused. Like so good man so I ahh, I’m out to watch mister Mazy talk later- “

“Wait a goddamn minute-”

“Don’tforgetmyonionsandveggiesandbrisketandsweetbreadbabe mwauh!” Jarred 17 eardrums before the call dropped leaving him again alone above his sidewalk in that pocket of Coruscanti metropolis world.

Alpha might’ve raised his voice sooner weren’t his distraction so unimpressive, leaving the ARC all frowns and one placed death stick vertical off his lips. Instead of checking the time he dropped his arm to routinely eye the shady outer floor he stood on, too many discrepancies in the building architecture to overthink any further.

“Your call has been disconnected, please re-dial.”

He lifted the heel of his boot, a solo matchstick dialed between his fingers as a loud pop strike off his heel, the given flame coasting its little tune.

“Your call has been disconnected, please re-dial.”

He raised it outwards, following which way the wind shifted just one moment. The bright trail the light graced the left side of his face with wobbling in the latter direction gave him pause.

“Gar Jor’chaajir cuyir dar gedet’ye kebbur tug’yc.”

He weighed his options, sinking his face more to his neck to evade the wind chill.

Follow the barebone notes scribbled in Maze ledger forwards or buy green onions.

Initially dragging Maze and his huffy fit through his apartment doors should’ve tipped off whatever became of that night. Somehow between Trantos hoarse rasps demanding answers inside the walls of his with Stec pushing Alpha nerves to the snipped wire of his blood-shot patience, shoved aside holo-pads piling his bed reached his hands.

 “Your call has been disconnected, please re-dial.”

And because nothing stops on triple zero neither does his kih’vod looks it; notes brash enough to split hairs typed and dotted, that’s Maze standard.

Not that he cares about his notes, but he cares about cautionary leads. Too much sometimes.

“Gar Jor’chaajir cuyir dar gedet’ye kebbur tug’yc.”

 Making the clue slice waggled in front of him more daunting to nudge at, loosening all his rational marbles for murky indifference. “Alright old man.” The death stick perched in his mouth rolled between his teeth and the next exhale wavered tobacco. “Where is brat two taking us for this time.”

Trantos always claimed he’d make a shit errand boy if the stakes were low enough. Goddamnit.

Fixer grip on his plastic humm-e bottle didn’t budge a lick, even amidst the bumpiest backseat rollout out they’ve had in weeks. “You know what I can’t stand the most about you two cob heads?” Boss read his lips from where he sat, the vice stress in his tone louder than initially in that rainforest floor.

The four of them cramped on the LAAT floor were inseparable as time dials, gifted half full thermos awaiting them rolled near their buckets. If Boss could sit still a minute he could almost imagine a substitute message roller for his back.  

Scorch and Sev tiredly stared Fixer down, one kih’vod slow blinking to the others full out squint with set shoulders. “I don’t know Fix what can us two cobs do?” Scorch asked first, visibly wiping over his mouth.

“Easy, I pop. You boom.” Sev rasped out gesturing between them each a spare vibro-blade spinning off his fingers. “Then whoosh! Death to all.”

“Exactly!” Scorch self-applauded in his new jokey high pitch which should’ve made Boss laugh. “Clock it Fix.”

Boss watched from his spot, thumping his head to the LAAT walls shaking off a smile. This wasn’t his fight to butt in.

“The two of you.” Fixer stare pinged off on the two, washed out by the casting sun molting yellows shading the side of his face. “Two dumb bitches- “

“Correct.”

“Will you shut up!” Fixer heaved at Scorch, Sev fake mouthing him off hand batting his ire. “Holy CIS me it’s like you two dumb bitches! Who can’t! Stop yapping at the mouth! In a time of crisis!” Fixer heaved, and then-

In no quick time he raised his humm-e plastic bottle, slamming it down right on two unsuspecting heads. This loud kloonk noise followed in quick succession.

Sev blinked through his bonk with disgust, Scorch bared smile ricochet at Sev and without fail that trio of Delta squad were soon induced in shrugged laughter.

Boss took that dealing to heart, keeping a careful eye on the three replaying their meeting with 01 idly popping his knuckles.

The red streak illuminating the drifts of the planet’s stratosphere rocked all his weighted exhaustion, kneading his eyelids. The ache in his right ear was likely to get worse even with his beskar’gam on to take out the worst of it not considering the aches lingering all down his hamstrings.

“Boss 01 mentioned something about this Munin comet shower remember. We’re on call for some retrieval bit after it once we jump.” Fixer face was neutral enough to con anyone past their social bubble, save his grip on the plastic grooves of his thermos lid.  “Nothing good I bet.”

“We barely left planetside and they want us on another detail.” Scorch exasperation sounded distant from Boss vantage point. “Must be getting desperate to end things with the CIS running us dry.”

“Then we should’ve been done months ago, not doing all this errand boy crock sector to sector.” Sev gave scrubbing his hand over his face squinting towards the direction of the sunlight washed over them. "We use to have nice going ons doing our jobs." 

Boss kept his comment to himself raising his thumb in solidarity then dropping it. This meeting would be the death of him he knows it.

Any sounds leaning towards his right ear came out a decimal lower, enduring the storm they survived. Now he’s relieved and damn ready to celebrate the hair second it takes to recall what’s what after crashing.

Coarse crimson cue yellow filled his vision as he stared out, the vibrations of the LAAT walls rocking his dome for non-threatening priorities, like the one in front of him.

“Take deep breaths Sergeant you're okay. Their okay.” His eyes slanted the nasty shiner on the back of Sev neck this nasty shiner kindred to Fixer’, his mottled across his cheekbones. Each bruise saturated in their skin soon lost all meaning against the darkening skies progressing more into space noir.

While the innermost part of his eyes burned enough to force a squint one gritty palm to the eye revealed a promise, three kih’vod scooching towards him buckets in laps – loopy remarks and ganglier smiles.

He watched with minimal effort, the one closest near his feet settled first half-turned with his knees pulled up to hide his face. Close enough to lie over his legs if they wanted or close enough to smack whoever he wished, he knows in his heart it’s Scorch maybe.

“Best speed nap, their gonna yap your brains out.” Sev spoke in Boss direction aiming a strong hand for his ankle. The warmth pulling from his palm wasn’t doing him favors though it kept the darker thoughts in his cortex lid for the three on watch. “Need you to fake it till it’s done big man.”

“Sure.” Boss barely mumble; his attention span dimmed as sleep tuned out the low lull voices from the others, arms crossed over another rocked by the noisy rattle of the LAAT walls.

.

.

.

 A thought brushed across the last of the useless mass that were his thoughts, certain to be forgotten.

Up until the last time he saw Maze two weeks prior, there were no intensive scars behind his ears.

Wind chimes Mereel suspected, are probably one fine tweak to being used as detectors than décor ornaments. Something about their simplistic melody trails dangling white noise. He could dupe that with refractive bolts and alloy but that’s not what he’s there for.

 The floor sectional he sat on sunken in the floor circled into this carpeted oval, nothing to do with the excessive wind chimes looming above him. The jammed citrus wedge in his tea made his offered gift near flood the table surface.

The chimes were chorusing off another like dissonant cheers, chiming, friendly like the way strangers click for seconds- then lost, ready to brush shoulders with another stranger. The brew he was offered was bitter enough to curl his tastebud's first he tried it, just the polite affairs of a houseguest.

Mereel approached the case of waiting like a game, some misinformed where’s who / whose who? Sitting in the quiet isolated sphere of embroidered embroidery textures, alienating non-pattern sentiency dots against its vibrancy.

That’s what he’s been telling himself for the past hour, something to shove the ugly gesture to check on this trade partner he swung out on a favor to Ordo. He wasn’t pleased about it oh no.

“What did it get me.” His smile betted on the reflective shine of his face off that little table. His trade request should’ve been back by now; the most he could’ve done was send his droid back in to answer vague questions. This whole tête-à-tête shuffle he opted in was getting old fast.   

 A shame- the spot was stalled enough out the limelight in the Eos district to avoid too much attention but plentiful with knowledge at the right price. The weaved fibers motifs and chevron-stained greys, pale aubergine, velvet bark, orchids, sea blues and lilies encompassed his visual stimuli each way he turned wouldn’t look so good decorated with brain matter if push boxed him in.

Mereel sat there relaxed like a Pyke vowed convent, demurely patient, waiting on the shifty informant yet to reemerge from his office.  The tea residing on the table was lukewarm and a paused check confirmed his thoughts; how unfortunate the illusionary smoke dispatched.

He imagined the wind chimes taking the curtain call of his appointment, taking the bit of the inside joke he wasn’t in on. His informant must’ve taken off somewhere between offering his snack and ribbing up lies about checking in the backroom's on professional matters.

Ordo would’ve shod the matter sooner with less patience but not him. To prove that point now stood off the bounce of his foot against carpet, the big inhale to catch himself.

The optional space crowding between the ceiling and the second-floor balcony railing might’ve enjoyed this sophisticated oddity from where he sat looking up. Shame really, he could’ve brought snacks to lighten the mood.

Mereel gave in the woozy trapezoid of feathery airy chime billowing conversation to another, like play telephone.

The smile on Mereel face shorted before it lifted again soothing out his dimples. He went to lift his teacup one last time for good measure.

“Thank you for the gift.” He said aloud casting his gaze into its amber brown liquid, inhaling the fog of steaming amber liquid coasting the cup rim. “Poison.” Oh how embarrassing.

Without another word smiling at his wits end, Mereel stood up promptly making for the direction of his scheduled advisor. The loud clang of glass porcelain hitting wood shattered across the showroom joining the rhythmic clang of noise occupying the showroom’s walls, lost into the heavy felt carpets muffling out the world.