#jango fett smut

[ddejavvu]

I would let Jango Fett (and any clone, to be honest) call me up when he's planet side, fuck me, then leave without saying goodbye and I'm tired of pretending I wouldn't

🧘‍♀️🧘‍♀️🧘‍♀️ mmmm i had to close my eyes and clench my thighs reading this. jango i think would be more callous and rough w it, whereas some of the clones might be more sincere. because i'm merely a series of holes for them to use I'll just talk about multiple. feel free to request others if i missed someone you'd like to hear about.

jango's rich and highly skilled at his job, notorious to those who know him and invisible to those who don't. it's not hard for him to get you in bed, nor is it hard for him to keep stringing you along, knocking roughly on your door, not because he couldn't get in by picking your lock, but because he wants you to hear that sound and know that it's a precursor to his own behavior: rough, fast, demanding. jango uses you for pleasure and not company, kissing at your mouth instead of letting you talk, smothering you with his broad shoulders and considerable muscle until all you're doing is wrapping your arms and legs around him, your actions solely reliant on his own. he loves pulling back to look at your flushed, sweaty face, your heaving chest as your lips perpetually part just to suck in air that he'd stolen from you with the heft of his body, your limbs weak and limp as he watches you. he's proud of the way he affects you, he's respected and feared in all endeavors he undertakes. he tortures you by never letting you know when he'll be on coruscant, and it means you wait eagerly in your apartment each night, longing for his gloved fist to pound on you door. you let him in every time, and you always will. he lets himself out every time, and he always will.

rex keeps in mostly good spirits with his team and his men, so when he shows up outside your door it's for companionship. He wants connection, he's mollified with claps on the shoulder from general skywalker but camaraderie can't replace intimacy. he nudges his face into yours, his nose bumping the space between yours and your cheek. he breathes your air, he presses himself to you like the space between you might kill him. he's proud to be in your bed, with you, kissing your skin and committing it to memory for late nights out in the cold vacuum of space. he holds you tenderly, his palms always pressed to your flesh to drink you in, and he lets you act as an outlet for his longing. being with you rejuvenates him, but watch out because if he's too happy the day after, his men are gonna know he got laid. general skywalker is all too proud to cover ahsoka's ears when he congratulates him for being in such good spirits

wolffe is so fucking stressed. truly he has to put up with so much bullshit and he's infinitely grateful for his general because if he had skywalker like rex he'd shoot himself. he knocks on your door to pin you to the bed and slam the headboard into the wall, he uses your cunt as a punching bag and he bites vivid, stinging marks into your neck and chest. He kisses them afterwards, letting his post-orgasm tenderness through, but he tires himself out before he ever croons at you. maybe it'd be different if you lived with him, but he's not on coruscant all the time, so frantic rough sex and an empty bed in the morning is what you'll get.

hunter bad batch finds it hard to get time away from his team because of their status as, uh, well, runaways. it's rare that he can let his guard down enough to spend a night in your bed, but that's why he leaves without saying goodbye. he slips out as soon as you're asleep, and departs coruscant before you even wake. you're his, 'be back in a few hours, i've got one last thing to do'. you're left wondering if he has go-tos on every planet, or if you're lucky. you're lucky, but he won't tell you that. he will, however, leave something to hold on to until the next time he sees you. probably a bandana, pardon the cliche, but it's the one he tied your wrists to the headboard with last night, so you keep it with you.

wrecker would genuinely feel terrible not saying goodbye i'm sorry. he might rock your shit and leave you numb but he'll always get all mushy when he's gotta go. he definitely tends to be one of the more romantic ones, he's a big softie and probably wouldn't treat you so callously even if combat was wearing on him. he prides himself for being in your life, and he'd assure you every time you got together that he wasn't just using you for pleasure. he'd comm you semi frequently if he was able.

fives is a little shit who might possibly fit into the scenario described. while i think he'd feel guilty for using you and treating you like he's using you, i can see it happening and just being a poor decision of his that he's not too proud of, but that he can't stop regardless. i can see him playing into a fuckboy persona and trying not to think about it too hard or else he might feel bad. he sweet talks you into letting him in every time and you can barely catch your breath before he's suiting up in his regulation blacks again and heading out the door. he doesn't do it because he's stressed, he doesn't do it because he's desperate to connect with someone, he does it because he's horny and wants a pussy to fuck. he wants to sink his aching dick into a warm body, and that warm body is you.

[thatwriterrosefics]

Morning Sex with Jango Fett x OC (link to fic on ao3)

Day 20 of Kinktober 2023

Summary: Jango always loves coming home after long missions to his loving family. As he gets into bed next to Nike all he can think about is just how much he missed her.

Word Count: 1772

[formlessvoidbeast]

Hi, for the smut ficlet prompts, how about:

Jangobi - against a wall - desperate, intense, fierce (brought on by fear of losing one/each other??) but maybe turns loving, gentle (if you feel it?) 🫠

Thankyou :D

“Jare'la di'kut,” Jango snarled as he shoved Obi-Wan face-first against the wall. A quick yank pulled his tights down, baring his ass and binding his thighs together. A hard thrust sheathed Jango between his thighs, fast and rough and not quite well lubed enough. Obi-Wan's spine arched, gasping as his muscular legs squeezed around Jango's cock.

Jango caught Obi-Wan's hands, pinned them to the rough duracrete above his head. His teeth sank into the tender nape of Obi-Wan's neck, and Obi-Wan let him. Let Jango vent his frustrations, let him use him, instead of tossing him across the room with his mind the way the jetii very much could have.

“How many times have I told you not to pull those kinds of maneuvers?” Jango growled. His own precome slicked the space between Obi-Wan's thighs as he pounded between them, nudging the back of Obi-Wan's balls with each thrust. “Jetiise aren't invulnerable. You can die. You could have died. You! Could! Have died!”

He bit again, punishingly sharp as he pressed his whole body against the back of Obi-Wan's, fear and frustration and pleasure all tangled up together in his chest. His next inhale was harsh, wet and shuddering. “Don't die,” he begged. His eyes burned. He hid his tears in the soft mess of Obi-Wan's auburn hair. “Don't make me go on without you, too. I can't. Not again.”

“I'm here.” Obi-Wan's fingers lifted from the wall, intertwining with Jango's own where they held him pinned. “I'm right here, Jango,” he murmured. His body was warm and alive, all yielding welcome as Jango thrust against him. “I'm here.”

.

(And that's the last of the prompts I will be filling! Thank you to all who participated)

[emi-gelfling]

Feel like: 🥹, 🫢, 😍, and more!

LINK TO "A Step to the Right:"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40541610/chapters/101570466

[sinisterexaggerator]

NSFW THOUGHT

—

Fic idea: Bounty hunter “games.”

Hunters are bored. Sitting around, drinking, smoking. One of them suggests: “should we play a game?”

Hondo is there. It’s most likely on Florrum this happens.

He pulls out a suitcase full of various item: binders, sabacc cards, dildos, buttplugs, vibrators, rope, etc etc.

“Eh, all right. We can make this work” — Jango probably.

They draw cards, or straws. Cad gets the shortest one. He’s tied to a table, naked. The game is to build a house of cards on his belly and take whatever the others give him at the same time (meaning orgasms or various forms of “gentle torture”).

He loses if he squirms too much and the deck falls.

They draw cards or straws again. The person who wins this round gets to dish out the punishment, dealer’s choice.

It’s Bossk. He chooses to fuck Bane with his two monster reptile dicks but he wants him in his boots and hat. Bane complains but he calls him Nuna-bellied and now he’s gotta prove he’s a man so he agrees and takes the challenge.

By the end of it Bane’s a mess in more ways than one, and Bossk will forever have bragging rights that he made Bane cum and moan his name like “the blue bitch he is.”

[phoenixyfriend]

Fics for @smut-wars-exchange are no longer anonymous! I did four:

Sweet and Pretty for Me for @huntressdarkness - Cody/Anakin, Cody/Anakin/Rex, and Anakin/501st, omegaverse AU

Lazy Morning for @silverxsakura, and @extrapenguin - Mace/Anakin, post-war no66

(We Both Know Why) You Come to Me for @a-aristippus - Fox/Anakin, post-war no66, more BDSM than actual smut lmao

A Wedding Night to Remember for @chocmarss - Jango/Shaak, vaguely historical fantasy AU, arranged/political marriage

I'll make Actual Posts with summaries etc in the morning, but hey! Author reveals!

[diaphanouswings]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jango Fett/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) Characters: Jango Fett, Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) Additional Tags: Weequay Species (Star Wars), Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, not by the main characters tho, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Clubbing, Smut, Sex, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), pre-AOTC, One Night Stands, Dry Humping, No beta we die like mne, Shameless Smut, No Romance, Just Sex Series: Part 40 of Across The Universes Summary:

Jango had been waiting for a potential client. Instead he got a little show and a bit of fun after instead.

[saturnine-blood]

How about my writing c’: can’t flag that, right..?

Summary:

The galaxy's most formidable bounty hunter seeks the excitement of his early days, even if his current circumstances have made him needier than he remembers.

[bamfahsoka]

As OP made very clear, this is a NSFW/18+ post so minors be gone!

༒• Gala’s Masterlist •༒

So I’ve decided to start a Masterlist, just to keep things on the tidy side of the galaxy.

Blog Guide ✧ My AO3

Requests are closed.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

!!! NSFW / 18+ only/ Minors DNI !!!

Keep reading

[formlessvoidbeast]

smut prompt: marco pov from she blinded me with science? or jangobi coming in pants (or any pairing really)

.

Jango's body was warm and heavy on top of Obi-Wan's. He hitched Obi-Wan's leg a little higher over his hip, grinding down on him as his teeth found Obi-Wan's bottom lip. The sharp pain of the bite had Obi-Wan gasping, body arching, his nails biting into Jango's back through his shirt.

Jango growled, the weight of his mind even heavier than his body as it pressed against Obi-Wan. Not like another Force-sensitive trying to connect with him, no, but a powerful and intentional projection nonetheless with Obi-Wan opening his shields to his lover. Lust and pleasure struck him like a hammer blow.

Obi-Wan cried out, he couldn't help it, and Jango felt almost mean with how badly he wanted Obi-Wan to react, to feel him, to fall apart. Jango's pleasure in feeling him, in thrusting against him, blended potently with his own pleasure in the sensations—too much to bear. He was only human. Jango's heated mind, his lust and desire, sent a tight wave of fire down his body. Obi-Wan crushed his mouth against Jango's in a kiss, muffling his moan as orgasm took him.

Jango moaned with him, crushing him. He projected his pleasure at Obi-Wan's orgasm intensely, sending a second smaller wave of it through him. Obi-Wan twisted and shook beneath Jango's body, coming in his pants like a fumbling youth to make a mess of himself.

“You do that to me on purpose, shabuir,” Obi-Wan accused, breathless.

Jango laughed, feeling unbearably smug and still so hungry for sex that Obi-Wan's spent cock wanted to get hard again in blatant defiance of his refractory period.

“Round two in the 'fresher?”

.

(I am not currently open for more prompts. Thanks to all who participated!)

[sinisterexaggerator]

I haven't asked you some Jango stuff yet and idk why. But I know you can do him so good because of the many plots/thots/thoughts we've talked about everywhere, so if you can...

Say Jango and Bane got into a real nasty argument which included guns be pointed at each other but ended up walking away to cool off. Who makes the first move? And how will it pan out?

Warning: NSFW. Smut talk.

Oh, good question. This requires me explaining their dynamic a bit as far as ideas for my fic.

Jango would be Bane’s mentor as was canon. Nothing else is known about them working together or even associating with each other except at some point Bane says “he owed Jango a few favors” regarding Boba, and Hondo mentions in “Secrets of the Bounty Hunters” that he had many adventures with Jango Fett and Cad Bane, among others.

Thinking about their place on the GFFA timeline, they most likely interacted BEFORE Jango created his clone army, and even sometime afterward before the Clone Wars as it was mentioned Boba KNEW who Cad Bane was and desired to work with him on a job in the comics.

To that end, both were near the same age, though if my calculations are correct, Jango is older. Considering how hotheaded Cad Bane is, I assume that in his youth he was even worse.

I see Bane picking fights after one too many drinks, letting the insults fly, and drawing his weapon for no reason other than to intimidate someone. I see others coaxing him to stand down, either verbally or by force, or perhaps Jango has a secret weapon or two up his sleeve that is noted to work nearly every time.

I imagine Bane to be a bit of a brat in this era. Hard to train, hard to control, but also capable of holding his own. Jango saw potential. It may have been he took him under his wing once they worked together, or perhaps they were in direct competition with one another and Fett decided that instead of being enemies, he wanted a partner, or an equal, as what he saw in Bane was the equivalent of the “mentee” being able to one day surpass the “master.”

At this point, Jango didn’t have a son. We know he has that gene, the one that desperately needs and wants to be a father, apparently. He may have used this drive to mentor Cad, but of course there are definitely times they do not get along.

For one thing, I don’t see it working out in the end between them, one of the MANY REASONS BEING THEY ARE TOO MUCH ALIKE.

Both are sort of stoic by nature, have a hot temper, will do anything the job takes, and have few scruples when it comes to what they will or will not do for credits. We might say Jango is more driven by his hatred for the Jedi, but as a Jedi hunter, Bane has inherited some of this disdain.

Anyway, I digress. The point is they are both stubborn. They both rarely talk about their feelings. They both march to the beat of their own drum, and they both are excellent at what they do.

My interpretation of their relationship would dictate Jango being the one to make the first move after having a terrible argument. Maybe Bane wasn’t sure Jango wouldn’t shoot him, and that made him feel things. I’m writing him as being a bit sensitive overall, but also so obstinate he would sulk and keep his head down after being scolded well enough that he decides to mope off by his lonesome. Of course, this is outwardly expressed as anger though deep down he is hurt.

His person yelled at him. Not only that, Jango at this point in time, is a better bounty hunter than Bane, although one day he may surpass him as I mentioned, and technically he does as he goes up against many Jedi and doesn’t get his head cut off. ;D But, in this instance, he may very well be cautious of him. I wouldn’t say afraid, though there are times he feels fear in the moment, but he also holds a kind of love in his heart for the “old man” though it may never be expressed verbally and instead shown through actions.

I imagine Jango would sit alone, contemplate, and sigh. After some time has passed and he’s cooled off, he would go to Bane knowing the boy rather die than come crawling back. Bane would make it a point to avoid him or stay out of his way until he made it clear he wanted to speak to him again, or make up. In the end, Bane didn’t want to fight him. He wanted them to reconcile as much as Jango did.

I see Jango taking the lead, maybe stroking the side of his face with the back of his hand. Maybe he tips his hat up by the edge to better see his eyes. Bane would stay solemn and wait.

“Cad. Look at me.”

And he would. When in the mood, Bane would do anything that Jango asked of him. This is after he’s attached and before their falling out ( >D ).

Maybe Bane nuzzles his cheek into the man’s hand, or shows some other sort of affection once Jango shows him it's all right, either by a look, or by lifting his chin up or some other small gesture. I assume his eyes are full of apprehension and he remains on guard just in case.

Jango says a few words about how he was wrong, or that he’s sorry he got carried away. Bane believes him, though this may have happened many, many times. He’s receptive to whatever Jango offers him – a kiss, a stroke to his wrist, a pat on the belly, or sharing a drink. In the end they probably fuck nasty to make up, and Bane’s the catcher while biting into the pillow at Fett’s mercy. That, or he rides him while Jango watches the way his fangs gnaw into his lip, or the way he stares ruthlessly into his eyes without once breaking eye contact.

“That’s a good boy, you do know how to listen. If only you were always so well behaved.”

Bane definitely bites back what he wants to say as he’s too busy trying not to cum, drunk off Jango’s dick as he drives it home doggy style nice and slow, let's say.

If he did manage a word or two it’s probably: “Fuck off, Fett.”

Most likely Jango just smiles, not bothering to address him any further. He's content to watch, or to run his hand down the length of Bane's back and the curve of his waist as he brings him to a peak.

[imarvelatstars]

Hāmate Masterlist

i. i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired ii. reset my patient violence along both lines of a pathway higher (coming soon) iii. grow back my sharpest teeth, you know my desire (coming soon)

Pairing: Jango Fett x f!Reader

Content: headless horseman au, historical sleepy hollow, māori jango, use of reo māori, reincarnation, soulmates, canon typical violence, eventual smut

[ao3 link]

[cabezadeperro]

2024 in review

I wasn't actually going to do this this year, but what the hell.

2024 has been--weird. I think it's the year I've written the least since 2020, word-wise; it also saw me writing something non-Star Wars related for the first time in four years. These two things may or may not be connected.

Anyhow, this is a pretty short list with five fics that for whatever reason I find the most interesting. They aren't my favourites, they're not the best; but they were hard to write, or I learned something writing them, or I had fun, etc.

half agony, half hope. 34k, codex, T, also known as the persuasion AU though it's more of a homage to one of my favourite novels ever. it was extremely hard to write and it took me a while to get out of my own way and just do it.

you'll like it if you enjoy pining and yearning, smart and competent people so deep inside their own asses they can't see what's right in front of them, the agonies of being 20 and responsible for the lives of millions of people and a clone trooper, jane austen, cody being fucking stupid.

home alone. 2.9k, jango fett/obi-wan kenobi, E. part of my daredevil AU. I don't think it's a very good fic, and I feel too self-conscious to reread it and find out if it's actually bad, but that's okay. The fact that I wrote something like this (that is, something that's quite a bit of my comfort zone for a couple reasons) is good enough imo.

you'll like it if you enjoy fics that are pwp but a bit to the left, trans jango fett, obi-wan being the annoying kind of service top, established relationships and domesticity, superhero AUs that aren't actually about superheroing.

islands. 9.4k, codex + anakin & rex, T. The Force Sensitive Rex fic. I am very proud of this fic. I think it does exactly what I wanted it to do, and I had a lot of fun writing it. I loooove writing these three in different combinations, and I really enjoyed having them interact in such a weird scenario.

you'll like it if you enjoy shrimp emotions, Force Stuff TM, force sensitive clones, fics where there's no Anakin bashing that acknowledge that there is something very wrong with him (affectionate), cody and rex being obsessed with each other, rex being a messed up lil guy.

smoke signals and code. 3.5k, jason todd/tim drake, T. This fic was my return to Batman comics and to this ship after a decade. I think it's kind of rough, but I'm still pretty proud of it, and I had so much fun writing them again and coming back to this world and these characters. In a lot of ways it was very much like coming home.

you'll like it if you enjoy unresolved sexual tension, calculated violence, characters who are too clever for their own good, that very specific brand of fucked-up-ness you find in late 90s/early 00s batman comics, ships that take the trope "enemies to lovers" as a challenge.

irradiated. 1.5k, vader/rex/cody, E. I wrote this as a gift for a friend. It's the kind of fic that is only supposed to be liked by one person--if anyone else enjoys it, that's great, but it is very much tailored for one person's tastes. In this case, that means it is weird as hell. There's a POV change half-way through, it's more of a character/relationship study, it actually doesn't have a plot, it sits right on the border between experimental and presumptuous, I'm not that sure it works. And I had a lot of fun writing it (and my friend liked it ❤️).

you'll like it if you enjoy second person point of view, Vader being weird, a bit of body horror in your not quite smut, open/ambiguous everything, Imperial Era stuff, weird style choices.

[averagehorrorgirl]

Masterlist

Work in progress 💕

Hi and welcome! I do believe I should introduce myself :) So I'm Cass 21 female ace nerd. I've been writing since 6th grade and use it as a form of therapy and healing. I really struggle accepting people actually like my work so I always have drafts ready to be published but I'm my own worst enemy haha. Anyway stay awhile read some of my work and I hope you stick around :)

Request Rules:

- No non-con/dub-con

- No pedophilia

- No incest

Newest: Angel Wings Pt 2

2) I saved your fucking life (soap x reader)

3) Forged in War ( General Grievous x sith reader)

¤ Legend ¤

Fluff: 💫

Smut: 🔥

Angst: 😨

Author favorite: 💕

• Movies/Shows •

Miles Quaritch:

A Second Chance

Cooper Howard:

Cowboy Hat Rule

Then Fame and Fortune Never Could Compete

Zemo x reader:

Angel Wings [pt 1] [pt 2] 💫😨🔥

Blade x reader:

Lost and Found

TBA

TBA

TBA

Gambit x reader:

TBA

Michael Myers:

Bleeding Boogeyman

Clones:

Commander Wolfe x Padawan Reader

Captain Rex x Padawan Reader

Jedi:

Sith:

Darth Maul x reader: Ferocity

Darth Maul x reader: Laced Chains

Dooku x reader

Darth Maul x reader: I was There From the Beginning 😨💫

Savage Opress x reader: Darkness Takes All 😨

Savage Opress x reader

Bounty Hunters:

Cad Bane x Senator reader: I Don't Follow You

Bossk x reader

Boba Fett x fallen Jedi: I Told You [pt 1] [pt 2] 💫😨🔥

Din Djarin x reader: Flinch

Jango Fett x reader + Cad Bane

Others:

General Grevious x sith reader: Forged in War 😨💫

Billy Hargrove:

Scars

Dmitri Antonov:

The Enemy

Daryl:

Monsters

• Video games •

Ghost

Wired Hideaway

Soap

I Saved Your Fucking Life 😨💫💕

Deathslinger (Caleb Quinn):

Just an Old Cowboy

Legion (Frank Morrison):

Picking up the Pieces

Pyramid Head:

Simple Kindness

Pinhead (Elliott Spencer):

Chains That Bind Us

Trickster (Ji-Woon):

I can Treat You Better

Vittorio:

Kissed by Fire

Nate (SS):

Friend's till the End

Mason (Nuka World)

She-Wolf

Joel Miller:

Sanity

Revenge

Scared

Tommy Miller:

I Gotcha

Revenge

Long Time No See

[formlessvoidbeast]

Obiwan accidentally gives/helps Jango discover a kink through force powered restraints. Extra gold stars for eldritch Force users where the mental map of a force user's body and their physical form don't always or even often line up. Extra limbs, ability to see heat or extra colors. Animal speech. The older and more powerful a force user is, the less you can assume their physical form refects their 'true form'

Jango couldn't feel the Force.

The mystical space-monk power that let jetii defy all laws of physics (and good sense) were beyond him, and always would be. He wasn't born with it and so he couldn't feel the “unifying energy that bound all life” or the manda-blessed stars or whatever it kriffing was.

He'd been skeptical that it was even real, until he got to know his husband.

Obi-Wan was only human in the way a star was only hydrogen. There was a lot more going on than that.

Jango couldn't feel the Force, but he could feel Obi-Wan's body behind his. A man's warm skin against his, a man's warm hands on his hips, a man's hard cock thrusting into him as he knelt with his hands gripping the headboard.

“Let me feel you, Ob'ika,” he begged. “Let me know you.”

“As you wish,” Obi-Wan murmured.

Jango could feel heat up his bare back, like the licking of flames that did not burn. He could feel huge hands closing around his wrists, pinning them securely to the headboard, and closed his eyes against the vision of nothing touching him. He could feel soft brushing touches all over his body, like flight feathers, like many wings enfolding him as his husband took his pleasure.

Jango was captured, held, and safe. Nowhere was safer than in the many arms of the divine being who held him.

He would never be able to feel the Force, but Jango could feel Obi-Wan. And that was close enough for him.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Stars Above! | Cad Bane

Chapter 14

Explicit: Semi-slow burn, gratuitous smut /pwp, canon-typical violence, mildly dubious consent, angst, Tatooine Slave Culture.

This chapter: Flashbacks / nightmares, whump, mild-medical procedure involving a needle/dispenser and sedatives.

Word count: 5.3k+

Notes: It only took me TWO YEARS TO UPDATE. SORRY ABOUT THAT. I promise that I will try to update more regularly from now on.

[ Ao3 ] - [ Masterpost ]

《 Previous chapter || Next chapter 》

“Supposin’ us bein’ partners don’ mean nothin’,” Bane flippantly offered. Though feeling despondent, he masked it well. The two men were a lot alike in that respect; Bane hardly knew what went on inside the Mando’s over-complicated mind.

“You’ve learned everything there is to know, Cad. And what you don’t know, you don’t want to learn, even if given the opportunity.”

“What’s dhat even mean,” the Duros asked bitingly, throwing down the butt of his cigarra on the cold, hard ground. The two began to make their way, Jango sighing under the beskar helmet that hid his face, Bane trudging along behind, albeit slowly; he was freezing.

Vandor was an icy planet, located in the Sloo Sector of the Mid Rim, currently home to a target that had made his home in Fort Ypso, a snowy village that lay sequestered in the foothills of the Iridium mountains, only crossable by bridge. The wooden planks groaned under their feet as the pair of hunters ventured onward, Slave I left beyond its borders so as not to attract attention and give the game away.

“It means you are stubborn,” Fett returned, his voice carrying over the blistering wind. “Perhaps it is time for you to branch out on your own; be your own man. I am beginning to think I cramp your style.”

The Duros sneered, offended in more ways than one, fangs chattering even though he wore specialized gear meant to curtail the cold from leeching through to his very bones. “Says de man who don’ know when te turn down a job; if Ah had nips, dhey’d already be frozen off.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Jango informed him, his joke lost on the dour man. He wasn’t in the mood for Bane’s attitude, much less his complaints.

“As fer style, Ah got plenty,  naht countin’ dhis ridiculous ‘fit ye’ made me wear.”

Bane frowned despite himself, feeling each minor movement of his facial muscles; they were stiff from the frigid temperature, the younger man desiring to find a place of warmth. At least his body glove was able to retain some heat, otherwise he was sure to succumb to this positively ridiculous weather within mere minutes, seconds.

“Fine; maybe Ah should leave ye te it dhen; wait in de ship, if yer so keen on gettin’ rid of me.”

Then, his sour expression deepened, Bane’s footfalls ceasing as he came to a full stop. “It’s ‘cause Ah don’ agree with ye, ain’t it.”

“It’s not your life, nor your decision,” the Mandalorian shot back without delay, unable to hide his bitterness. “I know what I want, even if you don’t.”

Bane braced himself, realizing this was about to become more personal than he had bargained for, Fett having never bothered to explain his motives. All Bane knew was he had won some contest, proving he was the best bounty hunter in all the galaxy—a title he assumed might one day rightfully be his.

Fett had trained him, after all. More than that; he had become his friend, his confidant. Bane might go so far as to think he even loved the man, though never voicing those sentiments out loud; he buried them, like everything else he felt.

Perhaps it was fear that kept him quiet. Fear, or maybe anxiety. They both lived in the same place—inside his chest. The chest that currently housed a heart beating furiously behind a wall of ribs, even as Bane reached out to touched Fett’s shoulder.

What he couldn’t understand was why he needed a million of himself; Jango would be tasked to train an army for an unknown benefactor, an army of clones.

The idea sent shivers down Bane’s scales. He understood there were credits to be made, and lots of them. But even so, this was a line Bane himself would never cross—playing God by ignoring ethics, by ignoring quandaries he thought might only come about in science labs. Not in the field; not in the relatively short life of a bounty hunter.

“Ah know what Ah want,” he muttered softly, “de one of ye.”

The Mando whisked around, batting his companion’s hand away. He could not see his face, but Fett’s annoyance easily radiated out beyond his suit of armor. He thought Bane would never understand his hatred for the Jedi; the duty he had assigned himself that consumed half his personality. “Come off it.”

Bane hesitated. The sky began to darken; he thought he had been to this place before.

“You’re a fool,”Fett’s voice, a low baritone, seeped into Bane’s ears, in turn causing the Duros to tremble. It was not out of the coldness of the weather, but the coldness of his words, that Bane’s body involuntarily shuddered, wide, red eyes blinking away flecks of snowflakes as they floated toward the ground; they were gossamer, each one intricate by its own design.

“But Fett-”

“Shut up,” the Mando cut him off. Something wasn’t right. Bane gazed around himself, even as Fett continued. “You really think I care about what you think?”

Bane stared at him, a wounded look taking over his already glum face. Even so, he thought to follow-up, wondering if he had said these words before. “Just dhat-”

Flames were birthed from blankets of white snow, shooting up as pillars of an all-consuming heat, Bane taking a step back as he watched the fire cast a shadow on Jango’s beskar helmet. Those little flecks, those tiny snowflakes, were now tendrils of hot ash, the icy ground nearby the bridge they stood on a carpet of dirt and soot.

“Ja-Jango?” Bane stuttered out; the man approached, deliberate, even as his voice rose in his anger.

“You are nothing to me, Cad. You are nothing.”

The fire blazed more luminous than a main-sequence star; the heavens were black as pitch and no sun shone; Bane heard another sound, this one the creak of weakening ropes as the Duros realized the bridge they stood upon was near to collapse. It was old, rickety, and the only way into town.

“You are not my friend, and you will never be my family,” Fett assured, his vehemence laced with mockery. The Mando laughed, dry, and borderline sadistic; it was out of character for him. Bane grimaced.

“Fett, we gotta go back!” Bane ignored his hurtful remarks, noticing the bridge was starting to sink and give beneath their weight and the onslaught of the flames. The youth would peer over the side, eyes set to broaden as he realized the mountain valley was now nothing but a pit of hellfire.

“You are weak; pathetic; worthless-”

“-stop it!”

“-just a frightened little boy.”

“Enough!” the Duros shouted; he could hear the panic in his voice. He cursed himself, wanting to be brave; wanting to prove to Fett that everything he said was erroneous, inaccurate – but he was right; Bane was frightened.

Suddenly, Bane had nothing below his feet, just a gaping hole and a river of bright flames. Fett was hovering; he had activated the thrusters of his jetpack; Bane aimed to do the same, pressing a button on his wrist gauntlet, except his boots wouldn’t fire; they sputtered and died out.

He kept on falling.

“Jango!” He heard his voice crack, Bane reaching out and up toward the Mando. The man only laughed that wry, cruel laugh, even as Bane fell to what he knew would be his death.

With hands grasping, arms flailing, and legs kicking erratically, Bane yelled one last time as his body was engulfed, swallowed by the void.

“Ah’m sorry!”

---

“Oh, no!” Todo 360 articulated. “I was afraid this might happen!” the droid verbalized in a mild state of panic. He began zooming around the room, peeking into cabinets and pulling out various tools, utensils, and medical implements. It appeared to Zulara that he might be looking for something in particular, so hurried were his movements in his haste.

“Can I help?” she asked quietly, though eager, not sure what was even wrong or what it was she would be looking for. The girl had been seated on the floor, tinkering with one of Bane’s fancy vambraces; it was sparking.

The girl glanced to the bacta pod where Cad Bane slumbered, but something was amiss; his eyelids twitched. She stood, then approached with caution, peering down into the coffin-like contrivance – that’s when she noticed.

The Duros trembled, the muscles of his face distorting into what looked like fear, then pain. His head shifted back and forth from side to side, though not awake. Zulara’s heart ached for the man.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, turning to stare at the frantic Todo. He was too busy in his search to hear her, muttering his many grievances and even a few expletives.

“Todo?” she asked again, the concern apparent in her voice. She stepped forward toward the little droid, tapping him gently on his tiny shoulder.

Todo whirled on her, having forgotten momentarily that she was even aboard the ship, Zulara noting she had startled him by the widening of his citrine eyes.

“Do not do that!” he proclaimed, immediately taking back up the search. Zulara’s lower lip quivered as she turned on her heel, refacing the injured man; he at least seemed calmer now, which Zulara pointed out.

“He’s stopped moving,” she whispered.

Todo zipped on by, a cool rush of air tickling her arm. He observed his master through the glass, a pane of two-inch thick transparisteel.

The droid sighed a human sigh, then rounded on his thrusters. He stared up at the girl, finally managing to find the time to give her a halfhearted story of some kind.

“When in the bacta pod, Bane’s subconscious is left totally unguarded! He is vulnerable to whatever it is his mind can conjure up, and I will have you know these things are not pleasant.”

“He had a nightmare,” Zulara stated, though the end of her phrase had a questioning lilt to it.

Todo nodded in assent, then added: “He has a lot of those, I am afraid.” He wondered if he should be telling all Bane’s secrets. Was this a secret? Nightmares were common among organics. He was unsure.

Zulara frowned at him, then looked down at her boots. She often had nightmares herself, a reoccurring one; the one where she was stripped from her mother’s arms by her drunken father; the one where she was ushered off like chattel into a life of slavery.

Her gaze returned to Todo once she had repressed that bit of sordid memory. “Will he be all right?” she questioned anxiously.

“You are humorous, human. Mister Bane has endured much worse. But I must find this pneumatic dispenser! It holds a sedative we may need; it is only a precaution.”

“You are going to sedate him?” Zulara asked, perplexed.

“Well, it is better than what Bane would do!” Todo scolded, continuing his rummaging. “I, for one, do not wish to suppress my memories, but in all likelihood Bane will hurt himself in this state, and he is already wounded.”

Zulara seemed confused. “What do you mean?”

Todo was becoming irritated. If this woman was not present, he could work in peace! Just who did Boba think he was, leaving her with him! Granted, she seemed to care about his master, but she was still a nuisance! Perhaps the droid was now beginning to understand why Bane called him that on limitless occasions - and when he meant well.

He started to have a change of heart, though his metal shell was empty besides his circuitry; his own thought process set him straight. Todo simply sighed again, though trying to be patient. “Mister Bane seems to think that libations will solve his problems. Why, ever since Boba Fett shot him in the head, he has never been the same!”

Zulara’s frown remained fixated, though deepening. She had heard this mentioned once before as they had dragged Bane inside his ship. Why would the man that had helped to rescue him want him dead instead? It made no sense. She thought to ask, but wondered if the droid would answer her.

Todo seemed two things: high-strung and untrusting, though Zulara’s interest was not self-serving, she was only curious. It was hard not to want to learn all she could about the Duros, his history, and those things that made him tick.

“What happened?” she finally managed, fingers trailing a path down the outside of the convex, transparent glass. “Boba would not tell me how he knew Bane,” she added, studying the curves and angles of the hunter’s face despite the mask he wore that fed him oxygen.

“Because then Boba would be admitting to attempted murder!” the incensed droid piped up, rounding on her. He was flustered by the question, and even more so aggravated by the answer he was about to give. Young Fett was a traitor and a deserter in his opinion; a fly-by-night, disreputable scoundrel to say the very least!

“When one commits to a job, or when one is given a home and specialized training - for free might I add – with only the expectancy of loyalty, and then for that person to defect, to try Mister Bane’s patience after all he did for him!”

Todo scoffed, turning back around. He opened up a lower cabinet, somehow sticking his large head inside, so his words were muffled. “To question his authority is one thing, but to shoot him?!” Todo’s voice was elevated, despite being dampened within the cupboard he was scouring. “Simply because you do not agree with his methods!?”

Zulara watched Todo’s metal chassis shift back and forth as his upper half continued with its plundering, tossing things haphazardly behind him. The girl would lift one leg, dodging something sharp that vibrated—a sonic scalpel? What did Cad Bane need that for?

Zulara bent down to pick it up; she switched it off. Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought about the head plate Bane always sported. “So, then Boba betrayed him? He shot him at point-blank range?”

Her thoughts drifted to the man whose comlink was in her pocket. The youthful face, the curly hair, the deep brown eyes – so soft and rich – she could not imagine him to be a killer, yet he was another bounty hunter. A bounty hunter like the Duros she had feelings for, the one who left her, the one who desired her dead for the sand she had thrown into his stark garnet eyes.

“Well, no,” Todo admitted. He had been there, after all, observing it all unfold. “There was a duel. It was a tie-” the little droid emerged to swivel toward her once again, “-but Boba cheated! A Mandalorian’s helmet is made of beskar! And while Boba is no Mandalorian, his -er- father was.”

Todo 360 made an irritated harumph. “A solitary clone should have been grateful to have Mister Bane mentor him! I know I  would be. Of course, he did owe Jango many favors, or so Mister Bane has said…”

His voice trailed off; Zulara realized something. It was no matter that this droid was comprised of ones and zeros, or its many servos. Something clicked inside her brain—Todo had no bolt, no way in which he was restrained. He loved his master, and to some extent, Cad Bane must love him.

She could only imagine this Fett harbored some kind of guilt, as well he should. If she ever saw him, if he ever commed her…yet it was not her business.

Zulara refocused her attention, “a pneumatic dispenser, no?” Her inquiry was soft, calming. Todo perceptibly unwound, as the organic’s voice was somehow soothing.

He was not used to women hanging around; he had only known those that Bane kept on retainer for one reason or another, namely Aurra Sing; she had not one gentle bone in her whole body. In fact, he might blame her for the way young Boba had turned out. While Mister Bane had a hand in it, it was not until he had been abandoned and thrown in prison thanks to the Palliduvan that his master had offered Fett his guidance.

“Yes,” the exhausted droid replied, returning to his work. He kept one eye on her, but he was thankful for the girl’s assistance, however wary. One could never be too careful.

---

“Boba?” Bane had heard the name, floating out in empty space, inside his mind, or spoken by a God. It lingered, the two syllables leeching their way into his cerebral cortex, even as pure darkness surrounded him, enveloping his cold flesh like a thickset, heavy blanket of unease.

His stomach lurched; he felt like throwing up. Instead, he sat upright and was faced with a nearly obscene brightness. Someone had unveiled the stars, but one shown more luminous than all the others; the one that warmed the desert planet he was now stationed on.

“Bane!”

The Duros’ eyes rolled to his left, spying within his hand a bottle of dark liquor, Bane ascertaining this might be the reason for his sickness; the empty feeling that tarried in his guts. But still, nothing was making sense.

Bane dropped the bottle, glancing up. Some distance away was a teenaged Boba Fett.

How many times would the kid shout his name in anger? How many times would he have to remember his father’s face when looking into his? That armor, that helmet – all a cruel reminder.

“You should have been there.”  That’s what the boy had said that fateful day.

Bane stood, gazing out. He was supposed to say something, words that had been repeated time and time again. The outcome would never be any different, he suspected, but the hunter was caught in a web of his own delusions. Maybe this time he could make it right; maybe this time Bane would not lose his self-respect or his dignity to a fourteen-year-old brat.

“Ah wouldn’ be so-” Bane’s voice dropped; he said the rest quietly and to himself, “-hasty now, boy…”

No. This wasn’t at all accurate. This had happened once before. Bane studied his surroundings, noting the placement of the buildings, a fire that burned in the distance, wisps of dark-colored smoke emanating in tight curls.

Fire.

There was a fire.

He had fallen.

Boba turned his head; Bane followed his lead, spying C-21 Highsinger and his faithful droid companion. Held prisoner in their grasp was a white-haired old man. The child - Fett’s offspring - demanded that he be released along with all the other hostages.

What hostages.

“Let them go, Bane.”

What had he done? He could not remember, the Duros craning his hat and head to stare down at both of his blue hands.

“This isn’t their fight anymore.”

Bane knit his brow in thought, his gaze returning to the boy. He took a new approach, or at least he thought. He was unsure, second-guessing, caught in a place that resembled reality, yet Bane was positive none of this was real.

“Yer daddy ain’t here, boy. Ah knowit. But ye gonna go ‘head an’ bite de hand dhat feeds?”

Bane took two steps forward, somehow knowing what came next. He had always wondered if there was some other way than this, something he could have done to change Fett’s mind. But in the end, he had it out for him; it was a part of history that could never be rewritten. Boba had got it in his head that Cad Bane was his enemy, and the sole executioner of the people here, as if he was the only one who was unscrupulous among those present.

“Yer gonna wind up poor, or dead, out on yer own – dhis galaxy is harsh. Ye think Jango was perfect? Ye think he wouldn’ do whateva’ it takes te get de job done?”

“Shut up! I am not my father!” Boba scolded beneath his helmet; Bane ground his teeth as he glared at him, his expression full of venom. Always such an impudent, brazen child.  He hated Jango then – all of them – and his clone army; his poor decision.

“No more innocent people are going to die, or be locked up, or live in fear,” Fett reiterated, brandishing a finger. It was ironic, all this talk, when Boba Fett was supposed to be a bounty hunter.

“Did ye ferget what profession ye’s in? We’re hunters, Boba. Unless ye ain’t one. Maybe yer just soft.”

A poor choice of words, considering the circumstances. Bane was sure he had only made things worse. He did not have the time to contemplate anything beyond that, for Bossk and Embo had arrived.

At least they were fairly trustworthy, the Kyuzo only second to Bane himself. Bossk knew how to take directions, even though he had connections, strong ones, to the Guild. Bane had thought, incorrectly, that they might back him up and take his side, but the blood that ran through Boba’s veins was a testament to his skill and to his mounting leadership, despite his age and stature.

Bane smiled a crooked smile. “Looks like yer lil’ insurrection has failed.”

Boba looked behind himself and to the others; Bane’s smile faltered. He glanced around as the thin shroud separating this world from the next shimmered and disjoined. He saw stars; realspace; a depthless abyss of nothing, like a curtain had been pulled back to reveal the stage, and he was the main character.

“I say we give the kid his shot,” he heard the Trandoshan rasp.

Bane dug his boots into the sandy earth. There was a suction pulling him, like a vacuum, toward a gaping hole that now stretched so wide the entire town was gone. The only thing that remained were the other hunters; Bossk and Embo had stood down, and Boba was rounding on him.

Bane realized they did not seem to be affected; it was like none of this was happening. He knew what he was supposed to say, as if only reciting his own name.

“So, dhat’s it – just ye and me dhen, Boba Fett.”

“I guess it is,”the boy would reply.

Their eyes met, or at least he thought they did. That damned bucket was in the way, Bane mentally cursing its utility – it’s why he hated them – it was a place to hide.

And kark the others; their loyalty was forfeit, Bane reminded of a most important lesson: he was alone, and he always had been. Always would be, save his droid for company.

A sharp wind picked up, yet Bane’s hat did not fly off—not yet. He fought with all his might against an invisible adversary, even as his fingers danced above one LL-30 BlasTech pistol. If he could only be a fraction faster, if he could only put this disgruntled adolescent in his rightful place, his anger, his heartache, his headaches—they all might vanish.

His quick draw was the cause of his notoriety. To be outdone - to lose to a snot-nosed kid - it would be an embarrassment, though highly understated. The only thing he had left to him was his reputation, and Fett was out to steal it from him, albeit fair and square. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – let that happen.

Bane pulled his weapon; he squeezed the trigger. Simultaneously, another shot was fired. Superheated plasma - imbued with an explosive quality - transferred kinetic and thermal force to the armor plating that lined his signature bolero.

It was not enough to stay the bolt; he felt a searing pain on the left side of his head, radiating across his brow and the upper part of his domed skull. He fell back flat, staring up at a now starless, barren sky. He was out of breath, and he thought this is where he ought to die.

Bane would close his eyes, legs stretched out and arms taut at his sides. He had no idea the outcome; that it had been a tie; that Boba Fett had saved himself from his demise by wearing that accursed beskar, yet the young hunter’s aim had not betrayed him.

“Mister Bane!” he would hear his droid call aloud in a worried tone. He had repeated it three times now, though the Duros found he could not move. The only thing he could perceive in this state was a scathing ache; an excruciating, endless throbbing, right where the bolt made contact with his hat and ricocheted.

The plasma had been so hot, so volatile, it had dissolved his scales clean off and scorched him to the bone—the durasteel panel had dented inward before his hat rebounded off his head and fluttered to the ground, molten metal boring easily through flesh and osseous tissue, slowed only partially.

Tears welled behind shut eyelids, as in that moment, he wished the boy had killed him.

---

Zulara, hours later, had traversed Mos Eisley’s streets. She had been looking for something, something good to eat. While she was not hungry, she imagined Bane would be the moment he awoke. The girl had not strayed far in her search for the right ingredients.

She aimed to concoct a Twi’lek dish, though she would modify it. Her palette did not enjoy the fungi that accompanied the rycrit meat. She would add carrots and potatoes, along with various other root vegetables, to cook a hearty stew, a thing to keep Bane’s strength up and paid for with her own meager credits.

Todo had confirmed there was nothing much edible aboard Bane’s ship; she had found out shortly that its name was the Justifier; curious, though she would not mention it. Once they had found the lost dispenser, Zulara made it her new objective to prepare a home-cooked meal for the healing Duros. Perhaps he would be appreciative and would not mind that she was here, doing her best to look out for him.

To think, she could still be napping in Ohnaka’s arms if Fett had not sounded the alarm. It was something more complicated than a mere regret; she did not feel that way. In fact, it pleased her. It had scratched an itch Cad Bane had left behind. Still, she had been hurt, a stupid thing, as the youth had asked how long she had known this man; her answer proved unsatisfactory, even to herself.

Why? Why care? As if his attempt to free her was not enough, though Bane had made her feel things she had never felt before. Maybe Zulara has naïve, a woman with no sense, but what sense could she have considering her circumstances? Some might call it a learning curve, though that did not mean she was not harboring intelligence.  In this case, she was thinking with her heart and not her head, but she could not help it; all she cared for was Bane’s good health.

Zulara absentmindedly stirred a pot; it was something she had located in a cabinet by the conservator. It barely appeared used; she wondered if Bane ever liked to cook, or if his starship had come equipped with those things he needed, whether utilized or not.

Once the rycrit stew was at a simmer, she lowered its heat setting and placed a lid on top of it. With this accomplished, she thought to find Todo and pose another question: where was there a workroom, a space with tools? She had it in her mind to fix Bane’s gauntlet, wanting to feel useful.

Now, just where had that droid gone off to?

---

Glowing embers of crimson red bothered to open up again as Cad’s body began to move of its own volition.

No – it was the wind, that suction. It had gained momentum; it was stronger, rolling him like a tumbleweed toward the open maw of nothing!

The hat went first, vanishing beyond the veil. Bane grimaced as he dug his fingers into the pliant earth. There was no stopping it, head pounding as his legs thrashed violently. He was like a fish out of water, surrounded by only grit and sand. Death, once more, seemed imminent.

The Duros panicked.

---

Zulara heard a crash, like something falling. She rushed back to where Bane rested, Todo’s mental state in a disarray as he had dropped something. Her eyes traveled toward the pod; Bane was seizing. The girl would gasp as she ran for the tank at lightspeed.

It wasn’t that the droid was clumsy, he had simply moved too quickly. Seeing his master at the mercy of his nightmares had drawn out all his worry; it must have been preprogrammed, but by who was an unsolved mystery—unless it was Vertseth Automata. Surely, Bane would have preferred a model with more strengths than weaknesses, but he had his purpose. Currently, it was to act as nurse, though he was not one; he had been built for techo-service.

By the time Todo arrived, Zulara had already pried open the bacta pod. Bane was coughing, sputtering, even while unconscious. The girl tried lifting him, cupping his upper back as he broached the surface; the sticky gel still held him, her face strained with the effort, though Zulara kept him aloft, fighting the weakness of her arms—Bane was too heavy for her alone.

“Todo, do something!” she pleaded, though she needn’t ask. The droid had readied the dispenser that housed the sedative mid-dash.

“I am sorry, Bane, but this will only hurt a moment!” he said in warning, still somehow afraid of incurring his master’s wrath, no matter that he was incapacitated. He aligned the needle and pressed with all his might; the medicine was injected directly into the site; it would disperse and travel throughout his bloodstream, suppressing his dark memories to the best of its ability.

Todo sighed, dropping his hand and arm. He let the empty dispenser fall onto the floor. Bane had noticeably relaxed; his breathing evened out. Zulara finally felt convinced enough to lie him back down within the healing gel.

“Is-is that it? Will he settle now?” the girl asked fretfully, adjusting Bane’s breathing mask for him; it had become somewhat crooked.

“I do believe so, yes,” Todo stated, though his confidence was shaken. He backed up a foot to let her work, watching how Zulara tended to his master carefully.

It was then Todo wobbled on his axis, believing himself to be tuckered out. For a droid to feel this way was like when organics suffered from lack of sleep. He could not remember the last time he had plugged in, knowing that his power supply was finally dwindling. “I do not feel so good,” he reluctantly admitted.

“What?” Zulara appeared alarmed, turning now upon the droid. He placed his feet down on the ground - too much time spent hovering was another drain on his internal generator – knowing he had only a few minutes left.

“It is not..hi..ng…to worry a..bo..ut,” Todo’s speech came out garbled and slowed down, “I am in need of a re..ch..ar..ge…There is a sta..tion…do..wn the ha.ll.”

Bane’s companion’s eyes flickered, like two glowing yellow fireflies, flashing her at intervals. What would she do without him? What if Bane woke up again? She ran to his aid as he began a make his way, albeit awkwardly.

“You can’t leave me! What if the tank malfunctions, or what if Bane has another nightmare!” Zulara begged of him.

“Bane will most likely be remain un..con..scious for se..veral hours n..ow,” he tried to reassure, his tiny, robotic hands trailing the wall to his right side; his eyesight was no longer reliable, and he had to feel for it: the door that would lead him to his charging bay where he would gladly sit and wait to be replenished. “Do not wor..ry, he is safe. You can always ca..ll… Bo…ba.” He could not believe he was saying this.

“Are you sure? But I don’t want to call him!” Zulara argued, watching as Todo ambulated toward another room. It was the place with all their tools, the one she had been searching for. Todo had nearly made it to his recharge station when he stopped dead.

“Todo?” Zulara whimpered.

There was no response; he had lost all power.