Rating: If I had to assign a rating, I'd give it PG for a
couple of mild swears.
Sex: Nope!
Archive: If you want it, ask and ye shall receive.
Disclaimer: The boys are the property of the Lucas Empire - I'm
playing with borrowed toys. I'm not making a cent from this,
I'm simply amusing myself.
Feedback: I'm losing my fan-fic virginity to this effort, so be
gentle!
Darth Maul lounged listlessly on his filthy sofa, fiddling with
the buttons of his PlayStation as, for what seemed like the
fiftieth time (and probably was), he defeated "Jedi Death Match
XVI." //Freakin' hell, I'm bored,// he thought - then,
realizing his mistake, attempted to slam down his mental
shields. He was a fraction of a second too late. Feeling the
icy touch of his Master's mind probing his thoughts, Maul
sighed heavily. No doubt, Darth Sidious would soon be calling
with yet another ludicrous assignment.
As though on cue, the phone rang. With a wrathful hiss, Maul
dug the portable receiver out from beneath a stack of Pizza the
Hutt boxes piled on the sofa next to him. "Yeah?"
The velvety purr of Sidious replied, "Ready yourself, my
apprentice. To help you alleviate your boredom, I have devised
another lesson to enable you to hone your rage and hatred to a
point befitting a true Sith. This afternoon, we are to be
contestants on 'Academy Feud.'"
"'A-A-ACADEMY FEUD?!'", Maul sputtered. "That crap is fit only
for fools and Jedi! No! Absolutely not! I will NOT appear on
that ridiculous show!"
"Ah, excellent! I sense your rage and hatred building already.
Be ready to leave in fifteen minutes."
"But, but..." Maul found himself protesting to a dead line as
Sidious hung up on him. "DAMN!" Flinging down the portable
phone, Maul leapt from the sofa and began to pace the floor.
"'Academy Feud.' That miserable old bastard is forcing me to
appear on 'Academy' freakin' 'Feud.' Someday, you black-hearted
prick, someday, when my training is complete, you'll feel the
wrath of Darth Maul! I'll shove my lightsaber so far up
your..." He broke off as Sidious entered his living room.
"Somehow, I don't believe the producers will consider black
silk briefs appropriate wear, my apprentice, no matter how
luscious you appear in them," Sidious leered, eyeing Maul's
tattooed form appreciatively. "Get dressed." Muttering under
his breath, Maul unceremoniously rousted his Apprentice from
her cozy bed atop his pile of discarded clothing, and pulled on
his stained, ripped jeans and threadbare, hair-covered "Sith
Lords Kick Ass" T-shirt. Sidious sighed. "Lovely as always. Why
you insist on dressing like you've been stowing away in the
hold of a Corellian freighter for six months, I'll never
understand. Come, my apprentice. Our public awaits."
Stalking down the hall of his apartment building behind his
master, Maul seethed in silence. //Damn, this sucks. This sucks
all ass. I can't believe the old fart is serious.// He wondered
if the situation could possibly get worse.
It could.
"Hey there, neighbor! Wait up!" Maul shuddered as the Padawan
twit, Obi-Wan Kenobi, bounded up like the overly enthusiastic
puppy he was. "Hi, Maul! I'm glad I ran into you! Guess where
my master and I are going this afternoon? C'm'on, guess! Bet
you can't!"
"Straight to the deepest reaches of the ninth level of the
Underworld?", Maul asked hopefully.
Obi-Wan giggled. "No, silly-willy! We're going to be on my
absolute favorite game show, 'Academy Feud!' Isn't that GREAT?"
Maul's anguished cry echoed throughout the building.
Intolerably bright lights. Garish orange and eyeball-searing
yellow everywhere. The cacophonous howls of five hundred
screeching beings, the dregs of the galaxy, assailing Maul's
ears.
Hell?
"Academy Feud."
Maul slouched at an orange and yellow podium, taking in his
bizarre surroundings. Next to him stood Sidious in the guise of
Senator Palpatine, smiling unctuously and waving to the
audience, eliciting hysterical screaming and cheering.
"PAL-PA-TINE! PAL-PA-TINE!" Maul stifled an unbidden smirk.
//Well, if nothing else, the old bastard certainly has a way
with the masses.// Maul's train of thought was suddenly
interrupted by a high-pitched shriek from the other side of the
stage.
"Master Qui-Gon! We're here! We're really here! I can't believe
we're actually on 'Academy Feud!'" Obi-Wan joyously embraced
his master, who returned his apprentice's embrace, sneaking a
quick feel of the boy's backside in the process. The Padawan
then turned to face the audience, yelling, "Hi, everybody! Look
at me! I'm on my favorite show! Hi!" An appreciative howl rose
from the audience. Maul glowered at the foolish young Jedi.
//Of course they're screaming for you, you dolt. The idiots
recognize one of their own when they see him.// This, Maul
realized, was going to be a very long afternoon.
A disembodied voice boomed, "FIVE MINUTES TO SHOWTIME!" Sidious
elbowed Maul in the ribs. "Straighten up, boy. This is free
airtime for me - you would do well to remember that I will kill
you personally if you make a fool of me on intergalactic
television." Unwillingly, Maul complied, then resumed glaring
across the stage at his opponents. Qui-Gon had finally managed
to regain some vestige of control over his overly excited
apprentice, convincing Obi-Wan to stand reasonably quietly at
his podium rather than jumping about like a womp-rat on an
electrified floor. When the Padawan realized Maul was looking
in his direction, he waved and hollered, "Yoohoo! Maul! Hi,
neighbor! Can you believe this? We're really here!" Maul just
scowled, fervently wishing he were anywhere but on that damned
set.
"FIVE....FOUR....THREE....TWO....ONE...WE'RE ON THE AIR!"
All hell broke loose. The game show's tinny theme blared from
numerous enormous speakers throughout the studio, the audience,
whipped to new heights of frenzy by the knowledge that their
favorite show was about to begin, cheered hysterically, and the
disembodied voice intoned, "Welcome to 'Academy Feud,' the show
that pits masters and apprentices from throughout the universe
against one another in a test of knowledge. Ladies and
gentlebeings, please give a warm 'Academy Feud' welcome to our
contestants. From the Jedi Temple, Master Qui-Gon Jinn and
Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi!" Qui-Gon waved sedately to the
audience, his calm Jedi demeanor undisturbed. Obi-Wan, suddenly
aware that he was the center of attention for millions of
beings, shrieked, "Ooooh!", and buried his blushing face in his
master's robes. Cries of, "Awwwww!", and, "Oh, aren't they just
precious?", rose from the crowd.
//I think I'm going to hurl,// Maul thought. He could feel his
hatred of the morons in the audience, of the hyperactive
Padawan and his solicitous Master, and of his own master, the
vile Sidious, growing exponentially. As though he could hear
his apprentice's thoughts, Sidious stage-whispered, "Excellent,
young Sith. I sense an increase in your hatred. Let your rage
flow through you, consume you, rule you!" Maul began to snarl a
retort, then stopped, transfixed, as he heard the omnipresent
Voice announce, "We are honored today to have as a contestant,
from the Senate, Senator Palpatine and his ward, Darth Maul!" A
spotlight as blinding as a Tatooine sun was suddenly turned on
the Sith Lords, blinding Maul. The chant, "PAL-PA-TINE!
PAL-PA-TINE!" , filled the studio. Sidious, beaming genially at
the crowd, kicked his apprentice in the shin and hissed, "Wave,
you fool! WAVE!" After a moment (and another hearty kick), Maul
managed to collect his wits enough to wave feebly at the
cheering beings. //Oh, you have no idea how badly I want to rip
your black heart, still beating, from your chest for coercing
me into making such a spectacle of myself...//
The harsh lights of the studio suddenly dimmed, and a drum roll
like distant heavy ordnance vibrated within the depths of
Maul's body, causing him to feel rather ill. "Ladies and
gentlebeings," announced the Voice, "give it up for the host of
'Academy Feud,' our own Jedi Master of Ceremonies, Yoda!" The
glare of a spotlight illuminated a small figure, clad in a lime
green, polyester leisure suit and wearing an atrocious black
toupee perched between his long ears, toddling from behind
hideous orange velvet curtains onto center stage. The mob
erupted into frenzied screeching, as did the Padawan twit
across the stage. "Master Qui-Gon, it's YODA! It's really him!
Hi, Yoda! Master, he looked right at me! I think I'm going to
faint!" Disgusted by the young Jedi's gibbering, Maul glanced
up at the bank of floodlights over the Jedi podium, idly
wondering exactly how much manipulation of the Force would be
required to send the rack crashing down onto Obi-Wan's head.
Abandoning the idea on the grounds that it would take more
effort than he was willing to expend, the Sith apprentice
turned his attention back to the spectacle at center stage.
"Thank you, thank you! Love you all, I do!", croaked the
ancient Jedi Master. "Meet our contestants now, we shall!" Yoda
waddled over to the Jedi podium. "Mmmmm, what here have we?
Welcome, Qui-Gon, old friend! This charming boy, your Padawan
he is? Of course! Welcome, young Obi-Wan!" Yoda grasped
Obi-Wan's trembling hand and raised it to his leathery lips,
planting a sloppy kiss on the back of the apprentice's fingers.
The blushing Padawan squealed, "HE KISSED MY HAND!", and,
overcome with emotion, promptly buried his face in his master's
robes again. "Adorable youth he is, Qui-Gon. Fortunate you are
to have such a lovely apprentice to gently hold and comfort,"
Yoda chuckled.
//That does it. I'm definitely going to puke,// Maul thought,
gagging slightly at the saccharine display of tenderness
assaulting his senses. //What a wuss!// He gasped as Sidious
stomped on his foot, harshly whispering, "Behave! Here he
comes!" The lime-green nightmare tottered across the stage, one
gnarled hand clutching his toupee in a vain effort to keep the
matted thing from sliding off his head. "Welcome, Senator
Palpatine! An honor it is to have you here, yes!
This...this...this being, your apprentice he is? Of course,
yes! Welcome, young Maul!" Maul cringed, hiding his hands
behind his back, as Yoda reached up, but the Jedi Master was
only adjusting his unruly hairpiece. "Fear not, young Sith -
with your hand, I would not foul my lips!", Yoda hissed. "Kick
your ass would I, yes, and gladly, but kiss a Bantha's bottom
would I before I kissed you!" Maul heaved an audible sigh of
relief, and was rewarded by a sharp poke from Sidious and a
hard stare from Yoda. //Oh, great,// thought Maul. //The
geezers are ganging up on me.// He briefly considered
attempting to strike down both of his tormentors, but,
realizing that Yoda and Sidious would undoubtedly reduce him to
a mass of quivering jelly within seconds, thought better of it,
and instead chose to stare sullenly out at the audience.
Sparing Maul a final icy glare, Yoda returned to center stage,
raised his bony arms, and rasped, "After our bills we pay with
these commercials, the game, let it begin!"
After the commercial break, during which brief pause Maul
amused himself by imagining a fiery cataclysm in which Yoda,
Sidious, the repulsive Jedi lovebirds and the entire viewing
audience perished slowly and miserably, the Jedi Master of
Ceremonies resumed his duties. "Simple the rules of the game
are, simple enough that understand them even a Sith Lord may."
As an appreciative snicker rippled through the studio, Maul
curled his lip in a silent snarl of rage. //Laugh at the Sith,
will they? Bloody bastards!// He momentarily toyed with the
idea of igniting his double-bladed lightsaber and rampaging
through the crowd, perpetrating meaningless, random violence on
innocent bystanders, but was distracted when he felt a minor
disturbance through the mental bond with which he was shackled
to Sidious. Glancing at his master, Maul was gratified to note
an almost imperceptible stiffening of the elder Sith Lord's
back, and a somewhat more forced aspect to Palpatine's
ingratiating smile. //That's right, squirm, you accursed son of
a Sarlaac,// Maul thought. //At least I don't have to stand
there and pretend to enjoy it!// Sidious shot him the hairy
eyeball in warning, and Maul knew he would undoubtedly pay
dearly for his impudence, but at that moment he didn't
particularly care - the pleasure of needling his master more
than made up for any future suffering.
At center stage, Yoda continued his patter. "One hundred beings
we surveyed with several questions, and tallied their answers
we did. Guess the top-ranked answer to each survey question our
teams shall. Five points for each correct guess we will award.
The team who first accumulates fifteen points, the winner is.
To play 'Academy Feud,' now it is time!"
As the crowd roared appreciatively, and Obi-Wan shrieked,
"Yippee! YIPPEE!," Maul closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.
//Dark Side, give me strength to endure this torment...//
"First question, I will now ask," snapped Yoda, "so shut your
gobs, you must!" Obediently, the audience quieted down. "Better
that is. Now, the question: 'Most foul-smelling place in the
universe, what is?' Won the toss, did the Jedi team, so first
guess they may make." Maul, starting at this, began protesting,
"Toss? What toss? I don't remember any toss! Hey, this isn't
fa...OW!" Rubbing his backside, Maul glared at the sniggering
little MC. //Damn it, that hurt!// Despite the stinging of the
smack, however, Maul had to admit a grudging admiration for the
flawless control of the Force displayed by the troll in the
screaming green threads and the appalling rug. //The ability to
administer a remote spanking could certainly come in handy at
the Grey Side of the Force,// the Sith apprentice thought.
//Especially when that twit of a Padawan is sensuously writhing
that shapely ass in those tight black leather pants...// Maul
shook his horned head violently, attempting to dispel the
unwanted, yet strangely compelling image. //NOT HERE, MAUL!//,
he admonished himself. //The last thing I need is to spring a
saber here on intergalactic TV!// With an effort, he forced
himself to concentrate on the game.
Meanwhile, the Jedi Padawan and Master were holding a whispered
consultation. Once they had come to an agreement, Obi-Wan,
hopping from foot to foot in barely contained excitement,
squeaked, "Master Y-Yoda, we have an answer. The smelliest
place in the universe is the apartment of my neighbor, Darth
Maul!"
"WHAT?!", Maul screamed, attempting to crash through his podium
in an effort to reach Obi-Wan. "Why, you snot-nosed,
goody-goody little twerp, I'll..." Once again, Maul was cut
short in mid-rant as an unbearably loud buzzer shattered his
eardrums, and a delighted Yoda declared, "Right are you, Jedi!
Smelliest, most foul pit in the universe the apartment of Darth
Maul is! Five points awarded to the Jedi are!" As the audience
burst into derisive laughter, Maul stood speechless, mouth
agape. Sidious sneered into his ear, "Well, young slob, that's
only to be expected, given your slovenly housekeeping habits.
Listen to them laughing, my apprentice. Their derision, their
contempt is directed at you! Yes, they're laughing at you, boy!
Listen to their howls, their guffaws. Let the hatred of them
fill your black soul and flow through your veins! Do you desire
their destruction? Then use that desire to fuel your rage, my
apprentice! Yes! I sense the rage and hate growing within you!
Excellent!" Maul snarled as hatred welled up from the darkest
depths of his Sithly being. Stalking around the end of the
podium, he snatched his lightsaber from its holster. As his
thumb sought the switch that would bring the weapon to deadly
life, the voice of the announcer bellowed, "'Academy Feud' will
return right after these words from our sponsors!"
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