The Boy who Cried Sith…(Really.)

Author: Master Lok
Genre: Humor
Set just before the Prequels (so hopefully I tagged this right)
OCs (Jocasta Nu’s Padawan Methew Lunanis and his Data Droid, RB (RB-Con11), Prequel/Clone Wars characters Mentioned: Count Dooku, Jocasta Nu, Ventress.)
Summary: So just who is Jocasta Nu’s pet Padawan Methew Lunanis? Data Droid RB-Con Cube knows.


RB-Con11, Data Droid whirs into operation. // Set to Personal Cloud City storage. Encryption sequence: 4, 2, 2, 4, 12903429 (You thought it was going to repeat that sequence of 4, 2 and 2 and 4, didn’t you? I am smarter than that…bloody bipedal.//

Methew Lunanis stands before the polished piece of sand glass clad in traditional Jedi attire of the usual terra tones. He tugs on his pitch colored widows peak. The hair that all of his peers made fun of. Methew thought it was wizard. They teased him even harder for the blossoming fuzz framing his jawline (You’re not even a Knight and trying to look wise. Ha ha, not you Meth!)

RB-Con hovers. The Data Droid is angular in shape and pulses various shades of blue light. It speaks in a combination of sound and light. When excited, a spectrum of blue lights flicker in patterns across the hovering Droid too quickly for non-Force Sensitives to decipher. RB decides not to record until her young charge asks her to. She hopes the teenaged human will forget to ask.

Methew sighs, his long digits fiddle with the glass sphere slung about his neck The young man frowns, casting aside the robe of his station. Spotting the dyed Dewback leather duster he picked up at a vintage attire stall in lower Coruscant, Methew slips it on.

Liking what he sees, the young Padawan clears his maturing voice.

“I confess…I don’t like the fibers these Jedi use in their robes. The linen. And the colors. I like black. No, I love black. and…Wait a minute…” Methew rubs his chin. “RB?”

//Oh blast…// The Data Droid swallows the rounds of chirps and beeps that most bipedal beings would call snoring. The loyal personal droid of Padawan Methew Lunanis blinks awake. Pale blue lights become teal as his charge asks her to record yet another round of banter poodoo.

// Yes…young Pupil?// If Madame Jocasta heard the Padawan’s repeated story about glorious Count Dooku meeting up with a Sith assassin, it would not be very nice. But then, RB-Con remembers the holo security footage of Jocasta and the Count in the Archives // Jocasta Nu likes bad boys… // …the droid shudders, thinking of light speed coordinates to flush that unpleasant image from her core.

RB-Con flutters away from the teen, who now sports elaborate design of black glyphs about his eyes. //By the Eternal Gears! He looks like some Sith acolyte. No wonder he gets teased so much. It must be due to Methew's light sensitivity. //

“Rubi? Can I call you Rubi?”

//Please. Don’t.//

“Okay. R.B. How do I look?”

//Really, son? You want the truth.//

“Yes.”

//You can’t handle the truth!//

“And you just purged the thought of Master Nu liking bad boys from your data banks.”

//Well... pupil Lunanis…you look like a Night…Night…whatever it is.//

“Cool!”

//Hardly.// RB-Con beeps.

The teen sheds his duster, tearing at the linen garments, revealing a rather nasty image over his heart that vaguely resembles a mouth.

“I exorcised evil from me.! I did it.” Methews’ eyebrows scrunch. “Look RB-Con, my first true use of Jedi lore. I stopped evil from possessing me.”

//Pfft…that’s a half-finished bad tattoo. Nooba dared you to get one after you had several Blue Suns at that bar that serves under-aged Padawans.//

“No, it was a living mouth, RB-”

// Methew please listen. If you’re going to stay under Jocasta’s guidance, you cannot walk around looking like you want to eat younglings. It is not good PR.//

"Ewwww. I wouldn’t eat other beings. You know I only eat plants. Like Master Yoda. But when I was in lower Coruscant, I started feeling funny. You know, like Doctor Jabba and Mister Rancor.”

//What?//

“You know the holo-drama I am talking about.”

//Thankfully, no.//

Methew waves his hands manically. “You should catch up.”

//I live to record, transmit and collect data. So where were you outside of being two holo-cards shy of losing everything?//

“What kind of Data Droid are you anyway?”

//As of right now? Suicidal…//

“Don’t say that Rubi. I am just getting to the part about noticing Count Dooku.”

//We’ve gone over this for several phases of the moon, son.//

“Yeah, but maybe today you’ll believe me. Now, that Dooku guy. Sharp dresser for an old Jedi. Very elegant. He sees me in that vintage shop, trying on the duster…I mean…he starts talking to me in that refined voice of his. And then the talk turns ugly. I mean…”

//What do you mean, Methew? The med droids had you swimming in bacta for almost two rotations after Nu’s assistant found you making fun of a sacred holo-book from Madame Nu’s favorite source.//

Methew tilts his head slightly. “Well…then I found out that Dooku wasn’t talking to me….there was this really fierce lady with him. She had no hair.”

//Okay. Can we stop now. Jocasta will have even less patience with you than I.//

“Wait…wait a moment, RB,” Mathew pleads. “I followed him and this intense bald woman to a necropolis.”

//Intense bald woman?// The Droid keeps her circuit patterns even. The boy could detect when he flustered her wiring. //*** I have heard of a such a being. Dathomirian…no. Dooku wouldn’t associate...***//

“Yes. I mentioned her twice already. Haven’t you been recording?”

//Describe her.//

“That’s all I remember about her because I had to concentrate to make myself blend in with the shadows. Refracting the light type of stuff. Next thing I knew I had company inside me. The mouth…and that.”

//Ah, that poodoo ink job over your heart. Your first day off and you break all the rules. Go to the lower levels of Coruscant, get smashed, and wake up with a mouth eating a planet engraved over your heart.//

“It’s not a tattoo…it was a Sith silencing glyph.”

The Droid twirls about in rapid circles…lights fluttering before uttering a low chime. RB-Con projects the image from Lunanis’ chest…she matches it up with a crude piece of flash art from Purloins Ink Lair, three shops down from Dex’s Diner.

//The Twi’lek that inked the disaster on your chest was wasted on three kinds of spice when she began carving that into you. My dear boy, you took a hit of some spice and lost the rest of your peers. Wound up in Jocasta’s favorite holo-book source, cursed up a storm, and promptly collided with her assistant on your way out of there. You’re lucky Madame Nu never found out about this.//

Methew dips his head. “…this isn’t a Sith glyph? It doesn’t look like that art at all RB.”

//Well, my dear it does not because it was not complete.// RB whirs softly. Quickly.// Thank the Maker it is not such a terrible thing. Please, please forget this whole incident. I have also been the recipient of Madame Nu’s stare. It truly does stop us droids in our tracks. I could not move for many nano-seconds. It was painful.//

“Oh. I am sorry, RB. I do not want to get you in trouble. Or me.” He sits at his mirror wiping away the make up around his eyes. Squinting at the bright lights. “But I am telling the truth about Count Dooku and the bald woman.”

//You have one heck of an imagination, kid. Next time you get a day off, no more lower Coruscant, buddy. And, if you value your chin hairs, X-Nay on Oooku-Day.//

“You don’t believe me…”

//If you could describe the hairless female in more detail then I would reconsider. I suppose it was all just side effects from the tattoo and whatever spice you ingested. Look, my synaptic sibling Symboas is a prominent med droid that specializes in skin treatments and recon. He could remove that tattoo without anyone ever knowing about it.//

“Thank you, Rubi….um, RB. Look, could we maybe check the archives for this mysterious woman that Ooka-Day was talking to?”

//Maybe after my circuit cousin makes you presentable.//

“Presentable?”

//Don’t worry Lunanis. I like your new chin. Now let’s go get the artifacts you need for the exam.//

“You mean it?”

Before RB-Con can answer, the holo-com crackles into life. Jocasta’s stern visage appears. “Methew, the archives need cleaning. Please wear your robes this time.”

“Yes, Master. Coming, Master.”

The droid watches Lunanis hastily slip into his robe. Once the boy is gone, she hacks into the security cams dotting the section of lower Coruscant that Methew, Nooba and Zinkor were loitering in and pauses at the sight of…

The symbol that was half completed on the Padawan’s chest. It was a Sith glyph. RB flutters, almost every light blinks furiously across her metal frame. She looks deeper. The boy was resisting and actually kicked the Twi’lek away, managing to flee the shop. Methew grits his teeth as he mutters something, pausing to think for a moment as he waves his hand over the glyph. RB watches as the thing starts to shrink, but the Padawan is interrupted by Nooba’s urgent tug. Methew and RB follow her frantic hand signals.

//By my Inner Core! Count Dooku…and the bald woman! Heavens no, she’s a Nightsister! Why would Dooku be consorting with a being who is steeped in the Dark Side?!? Oh…dear. Oh dear. Make note to ask Symboas to mind wipe the boy. There must a be Jedi present who can assist with the removal…oh dear…I must tell Madam Nu.//

RB-Con sends a message to Jocasta’s protocol droid, Z4Q2. “Oh, little RB-Con. How is your life with milady’s Padawan?”

//Interesting. Tell me dear Z4, is your Master available. I must speak with her-//

“Please hold.”

//No…Z4Q2…this is urgent.//

“Please hold.”

 

You’re not even a Knight and trying to look wise. Ha ha, not you Meth!)

His nickname is Meth? I love it already. And, his 'friends' might push him to the Dark Side.


“RB?”

//Oh blast…//

They don't make droids like they used to, eh?


Jocasta Nu likes bad boys…

... ... ... ...


“Rubi? Can I call you Rubi?”

//Please. Don’t.//

I think she likes it.


Nooba dared you to get one after you had several Blue Suns at that bar that serves under-aged Padawans.//

Where's this bar of which you speak?


looking like you want to eat younglings.

With some fava beans and nice chianti.


//As of right now? Suicidal…//

So are we all, Rubi. Can I call you Rubi? Good.


Please wear your robes this time

At least wear something.


“Please hold.”

Time for some muzac. And some droid prozac for Rubi.


Delightfully humorous story,
@Master_Lok

 

RB is a slightly nicer K2SO (I think). She has a bit of foul mouth too which resulted in the transcript of this bit of data to be missing some punctuation.

I’ll have to research droid Prozac for her. But no Muzak...

My stories tend to be quite serious or very silly.

Thanks for reading.

Now about that bar...

 

I like your humor. And your hero reminded me faintly of one of my favorite youth book characters - a Greek half-god.

Overall, fun story to read & I had to laugh very softly, because other train passengers around me are asleep.

 

@AzureAngel2 thanks for reading, glad you liked.

Caught another goof in this, and consigned RB to screening phone calls on our house phone to make life difficult for the robo/spam callers. If only.