Chapter Text
“kriffing hell!” You hiss, a sharp pain searing through your right arm. A shard of rusty scrap metal had ripped through the sleeve of your body suit, slicing into flesh on the underside of your forearm. You gaze down at the cut; it’s deep. It takes a while for blood to start seeping to the surface, but when it does, it seems to be continuous. You huff in annoyance, take out your water canteen, and rinse the wound. Taking a handkerchief from your backpack, you apply pressure until the blood seems to slow. You wince as the bacta patch makes contact, the cool stinging sensation radiating through the entirety of the limb. This is not the first time you’ve sliced yourself on scrap, and certainly not the last. It comes with the territory of being a scavenger.
You weren’t in the upper echelons of life. You didn’t know the taste of a fine Corellian wine, never had the luxury of standing on the upper levels of Corucant, or gazing the lakes of Naboo. All you knew was their scrap. The trash of the wealthy man, destined to become a poor man’s treasure. Your version of a cityscape was the mountains and mountains of refuse dumped on Lotho Minor. Not a planet on anybody's bucket list, but it kept you housed and fed. You took over the business when your father died, junk sellers. That’s all you were. All you inherited from your recently departed was a hunk of junk salvage ship and piles of scrap. So, without any other way to survive, you took over. Weekly trips from your home planet of Thune to the nearby hellscape of Lotho Minor.
Your father had told you stories about the thick, pungent smog that blanketed everything, the incinerator droids, the toxic sludge, and the acid rain. You had hoped to never step foot on this planet, to never have the stench of decay breach your sinuses. But lo and behold, here you are, dirty, stinky, and bleeding. You had grown used to this planet by now. The rotten odour no longer eliciting tears in your eyes, the vermin and you had seemed to have an unspoken pact to leave each other alone. You couldn’t say you liked it, but you didn’t much like any part of your job. Yet day in, day out, you toil away, rummaging through the garbage of a highfalutin society you would never be a part of. You’d load your ship, take it back to the shop, and see what you could salvage and sell on. It always surprised you, the calibre of what the upper crust would disregard. Easily fixed items, tossed into garbage chutes out of minor inconvenience. More money than brains, you often thought. You try not to dwell on the egregious acts of overconsumption, as the war rages on in the often forgotten outer rim.
Your wound patched up, you continue wading through filth, tossing useless items over your shoulder. You scour your surroundings for larger finds, decommissioned droids, dilapidated starships. Even with macrobinoculars, seeing ahead of you was quite difficult. The orange fog thick in the air, swirling through every inch of space. In the distance, you see what looks like a droid leg, sticking out from the mounds. Today had not been a lucrative day; this could change things. As you clamber over the peaks of trash, you notice droplets falling from above. They hiss, slowly melting through anything flimsy that they fall upon. Shit. You’d managed to avoid any of the foretold acid rain thus far. The only other time you’d encountered it, you hadn’t even left the ship yet. That made a short trip.
Your head frantically swivels around, but you’re too far from the ship. Your suit will protect you for a short time, but if this gets any heavier, you’re in for a bad day. You peer through your macrobinoculars, looking for any shelter from this potentially skin-burning precipitation, when you see a cave a few klicks North. Your father’s voice rings in your head, a tale told of a violent creature living in the bowels of this wasteland. You weigh up your options as they are about to run out, burning disfigurement… or an old wives' tale of a giant spider. You choose the spider. Running was not something you could do in the scrap piles of Lotho Minor, but that didn’t stop you from attempting. You scan your immediate surroundings as you bounce in a feline manner across the sea of garbage between you and your respite. Your heart races as you navigate the terrain, your foot catche,s and you stumble, your hands and knees hitting the rubble. Your hair falls to the side, leaving the nape of your neck bare to the elements. A drop falls, a white, burning heat hitting the exposed soft flesh. You spring to your feet, the rest of the journey to the cave a blur.
Your chest rises and falls at a dizzying speed, your heart thrumming in your eardrums, your breath ragged. You move deeper into the cave and remove your ventilator mask, dropping it to the ground. You place your back against the cave wall, forearms resting on your thighs, a moment to regulate your crazed bodily responses. A scurry of feet sounds behind you, around the cave's bend, a light tap of something moving about. Your ears prick, but you settle your thoughts, convincing yourself it is just some cave vermin. You go back to grounding yourself, your eyes slowly falling shut. The air around you seems to shift, a dark energy pools at your feet, and the hairs on your body stand on end. You keep your eyes shut, hoping that you can tune into the energy shift. A low growl emanates before you, shortly followed by a sharp thud ringing right next to your head. Metal against rock. As your eyes snap open, one hand is unsheathing your vibroblade, the other is reaching for your blaster. Out of your peripherals, you see a large, metal, spider-like limb cracking into the wall beside you. Your stomach turns, your blood running cold. Could it be? Is the creature from the tales real? You focus your sight in front of you, breath leaving your lungs as you behold the terrifying sight. 6 mechanical spider legs, menacingly tall, pointed at the bottoms, piercing the ground below. The most confronting thing was what was attached to the cybernetics. A Zabrak male, vibrant crimson skin, his horns overgrown, eyes of fire, and jet black tattoos covering what was left of his body. It seemed as if his entire lower half was missing; all that remained were his organic arms, upper torso, head, and neck. He snarls his upper lip, baring his teeth at you with another, much louder growl. Every inch of your body is frozen stiff, your brain is screaming at you to run, but your limbs won’t move. You stare directly into the glowing yellow eyes of a truly deranged-looking creature, willing yourself to fight for survival. You take a breath and try an approach that has worked with other creatures…fearlessness. Zabrak’s are sentient beings after all, maybe just maybe you can appeal to an intelligent side of the creature. You holster your blaster and reach out your palm, slowly placing it on the cold metal leg beside your head. You sheath your blade, holding up your other palm in an attempt to show that you mean no harm. You soften your gaze and look deeply into the beast's scorching eyes. You search for something in them, something softer, something reasonable. You see nothing but frenzy. Nothing but unbridled rage, an empty soul taken over by pure chaos. You reluctantly stand your ground, keeping your eyes locked on his, your palm never leaving his robotic limb.
His eyes scrunch into angry slits, and before you know it, all the air is knocked out of you, you hear the wind whoosh through your ears, and your feet are no longer on solid ground. With a yell, the beast had, unbeknownst to you, lifted another of his limbs and swung, hitting your rib cage and hurling you across the cave. Your body hits a rock in the bowels of the cave, slamming with a sickening force to the ground. You can’t yet feel the cracked rib or the radiating pain of your already bruising spine. You’re in total shock, synapses firing as you enter fight or flight. You roll over and un-holster your blaster as the beast flits to stand over you. You point your blaster at his head, his body towering over you, a set of three cybernetic limbs on each side of your torso. “Blood….I smell Blood,” he growls, picking you up by your arm, dangling you in front of him. The pressure of his hold forces you to drop your blaster, falling to the floor below you. He twists your arm to look at your patched wound, and you still dangle from his grip, legs flailing around in an attempt to break free. “You’re injured.” He speaks, this is not a question, it’s a statement he barks before releasing his grip on your wrist. You drop to the floor like a rag doll, your body folding over itself. On your descent, a ration bar falls from the side pocket of your backpack. The beast sniffs the air, snapping his head to look at the food, before scurrying behind the rock you had been thrown on. “Do… do you want this?” Your hand is shaking as it holds out the ration bar. You sit up on your knees, extending your arm toward the beast, gesturing for him to take it, before throwing it on the floor in his direction. His head slowly cranes around, regarding the bar. He moves cautiously toward you before snatching it up in haste and scurrying back behind the rock. “Do you talk? Do you have a name?” You sheepishly say, sitting back down and crossing your legs. The creature appears to enter a manic haze, growling and muttering to himself, of which you can only make out every other word. “Mm name.” “Revenge… Revenge.” He rips open the bar, taking in a deep breath, inspecting the contents. “Maul,” he tosses the wrapper to the ground. Your ears prick, head tilting in his direction. “What was that?” You say, unsure if this was just a part of his rambling. “Name…Maul.” After giving the food a final sniff, he practically swallows it whole, like an animal starved, unsure of when his next meal will come. “Maul,” you ponder, the sound of his name being uttered by another, seemingly, sends him into another frenzy. As if it had been eons since he had heard it spoken. His pacing back and forth, grumbling and muttering, mixed with the way he had reacted to a measly ration bar, hit you with a reality. Your fear washed away, empathy replacing any negative feelings you had. You didn’t know how long he had been like this, how long he had lived in this cave, how long he had held this form. But what you did know was that this was a broken being. Discarded like everything else in this hellhole. Hungry, alone…scared. Fighting to survive on a cruel and unforgiving planet. As if he had multiple personalities living inside his brain, his muttering ceases, he straightens his back, turns his body, and slowly moves toward you. “Injured…You’re injured.” He speaks again, bending down, picking up your blaster, and holding it out in his hand for you to take. “Oh, it’s nothing, just a gash from some scrap.” You carefully take your blaster from him, unsure if it was a trick. Your hand brushes against his as you take it, causing him to flinch and quickly retract his hand. Once your blaster was holstered, Maul lay the base of his spider-like body on the ground next to you, almost as if he were trying to sit by your side. You noticed, as he sat, that he was also injured. An angry-looking wound right between his horns. You take your backpack off, place it on your lap, and unbuckle it. You had used your last Bacta patch, but you had some Bacta Gel in your kit too. You take out the tube, squeezing some onto your finger. You stand up and place yourself in front of Maul. He stares at you, almost expressionless, as you reach your hand out towards his horns. In the blink of an eye, one of his organic arms lunges forward, snatching your wrist before you could make contact. Your heart starts to race again, fearing that you are about to be thrown through the air a second time. He stares into your eyes, a menacing snarl replacing his previous expressionless gaze. “What do you think you are doing? Do you not fear me, human?” His words were laced with venom, his upper row of teeth flashing through his words. You sheepishly shake your head. “Well, you should. You do not know who I am. What I have done. What I am capable of.” His withering look did not fade. “You’re hurt. I’m just trying to help you.” Your voice is shaking, and you sound a lot more meek than you had intended. “Just let me put this on you,” your voice gaining a more resolute tone. Maul unhands your wrist, one finger at a time, his expressionless mask resuming, his eyes never leaving yours. You slowly creep your hand back towards his head, stopping just shy of the wound, giving him a chance to stop you again. He blinks slowly at you, giving you consent. Your fingers make contact with his scalp, interlacing around his horns. He winces as the Bacta is applied to the weeping gash. Your eyes fall from the wound and down to his face. Your hand still woven within his horns. His eyes are now closed, and he’s allowing you full control. You glide your hand down, caressing the side of his face. For a moment, he breathes a heavy sigh and presses his cheek into your hand. His eyes snap open, a look of distaste. “Are you finished?” He growls, turning his face away from you. “Sorry, yes, I’m done.” Your hand slowly falls back to your side, a sense of awkwardness filling the air. “The rain has stopped; you can leave safely.” He says bluntly, walking further into the cave. You stand slightly shocked, until now you were unsure if he was going to let you leave of your own accord. “O-okay, I’ll be going now.” Still unsure of Maul’s intentions, you slowly back away, staying to face him.
You pick up your ventilator mask, securing it back on, and leave the cave. As you leave the mouth, you hear echoes behind you, screams and growls, grunts and groans. You look back with sadness for a brief moment before taking a deep breath and heading back to your ship. It’s dark now, visibility is low, and you take out a torch to light your path. Traversing this planet in the dark was not something you wanted to do. As you sit in the pilot's chair, your brain swarms with what has just happened. The sharp twang of your cracked rib flares to the surface, the ache in your spine radiating through you, the bright red finger marks around your wrist a painful reminder of your encounter.
Over the next week, back on Thun,e your thoughts fall to Maul. Who was he? Was he really as dangerous as he claimed? Why was he there? What happened to him? Your work was slow as your mind was preoccupied. You wracked your brain, went over every single thing that happened that night. In slumber, his eyes clouded your dreams. The bright yellow embers burning into the back of your eyelids. You hear his wallowing, his cries, his ranting and raving. You make a decision, you have to see him again the next time you go scavenging. You know that he survived before you, that he had made it so far. But the guilt was overriding every other thought in your head. He’s starving, he’s alone, you have to do something to help him, even if it is in a small way.
The week drags by, your thoughts always falling back to Maul. Eventually, your weekly scrap searching day comes around. You could only afford fuel for one trip a week, so even though you were eager to go back, you couldn’t just throw your credits around. You descend on Lotho Minor, your backpack containing today’s meal and a Jogan fruit, a luxury you rarely indulged in. You were happy to share what little food you had, even if it meant you went slightly hungry. You hurriedly rummage through the piles, amassing a decent haul. Although you wanted to go straight to the cave, you couldn’t risk the sun setting before you did your job. You take the last of your finds and secure them in your ship before making your way to the cave. Once you enter, nerves overrun you. What if this was a bad idea? Had you been stupid? Maybe you hadn’t realised how lucky you were to be spared? You take off your ventilator mask and hook it to your bag, entering the belly of the cavern. You stand in the clearing where it opens up, Maul nowhere to be seen. You spin on the spot ,trying to look for him. “Maul? I came back with some more food and Bacta. Are you here?” Your voice echoes through the chamber, before you feel hot breath on your neck. A growl crackles in your ears, your heart almost jumping out of your chest. “Always remember I am hunte,r” Maul’s voice grating, every word hissed through closed teeth. You spin around to face him, your hand hovering over your blade. “Why have you returned here, human? I spared your life. Why have you come back again?” His maddened eyes pulled wide, burning into your soul. “I-“ your voice catches in your throat. How could you be so careless? You almost died in this cave. “I brought you more food. More wound care… I have to come here every week for work. So… I thought I could feed you.” Your head hangs low, a slight blush of embarrassment. You felt so small, so naive. You were just trying to help.
You turn around and start to head back out of the cave. “Stop,” a commanding voice bellows from behind, stopping you in your tracks. A warm hand grasps around your shoulder, your breath hitches, and your heart just about explodes. You had lied; he does scare you. He terrifies you; you’ve never felt so insignificant and breakable. This was it, you thought. He’s not going to let you leave this time. You had ignored any blaring siren in your head telling you not to go back, and now you’re going to die. “Sit. Eat.” His voice is monotone, his hand falls off your shoulder. You obey, turning around and making your way to the fire. You swing off your backpack and open it, taking out your food. A thermos of bone broth and some simple bread. You pour out a small serving of broth for yourself and break off a measly corner of the bread. You hand the bigger, heartier portion to Maul, who is now placed across from you. No words are spoken, you slowly sip the broth in deafening silence. Maul begins to growl and moan as he downs the food at light speed, before throwing the empty bowl down onto the ground. You slowly finish your meal, eyes focused on the ground, not looking up to meet the stare that you can feel burning through you. You take out the Jogan fruit and tear it, again giving the bigger side to Maul. The wet slurps and growls coming from him cause you to grimace in slight disgust. Once you’ve finished, you pack away your things, take out the tube of Bacta Gel, and rise to your feet. “How’s the wound?” You quietly ask, your eyes still focusing anywhere but his eyes… those burning eyes. He grunts and lowers his head enough for you to inspect. The wound was almost closed over, with a slight redness and scabbing, but nowhere near as angry as last week. “Huh, it’s healed quite nicely, I’ll still put a bit on just to ensure it keeps healing.” You squeeze a small amount of bacta on your finger and bring your hand forward. “I’m going to touch you now, okay?” You ask his permission this time; the last thing you wanted was another bruised wrist. Once again, your fingers make contact with his scalp and interlock around his horns. Maul’s body shudders at the contact, his eyes yet again falling closed. He lets out a sigh as you smear the gel onto the wound; it seems far less painful this time. As you go to remove your fingers, he wraps his own hand around yours. Fear spikes deep inside you, your wrist begins to ache at the reminder of what happened last time. His eyes open, and you can’t escape his gaze this time. He slowly takes your hand and slides it down to cup his cheek. Your eyes widen, you’re frozen, unsure of what is happening. His eyes flicker shut again, and he rubs his face into your hand with a low growl. Still on guard, you take your other hand and glide it up his organic arm, landing on his shoulder. He grinds his face deeper into your palm as you lightly caress his shoulder, growls turn to purrs of contentment. Maul gave you such whiplash, he was like a stray Lothcat. A being that was so traumatised, so vulnerable, lashing out as soon as he felt too exposed. “I have to go” you whisper, your thumb running over his cheek. He pries his eyes open to look into yours, an anger washing over him. He throws your hand off his face and turns himself away from you. “Go then. Get out of here. Leave me alone!” His voice raising to a yell. He starts to become worked up again, muttering and whimpering. As guilty as you feel, you weren’t going to stick around to be his punching bag. “Goodbye, Maul…” you say softly, before turning around and walking away.
In the next few weeks, you visit Maul, and the same story plays out. You arrive, he’s raving mad, threatens you, you eat a meal together, he calms for a while, then returns to being raving mad. You leave, rinse, and repeat. You knew you weren’t making any progress on his mental state. You were only there for a few hours a week. The other 6 rotations he was alone with his deteriorating mind, withering away. But it gave you some comfort to know at least he was getting some food and not going completely hungry.
This day was different; you could hear his screams before you even entered the cave. You were hesitant to enter. He sounded so erratic, so wild, so angry. You walk forward, hand hovering over your blaster. He hadn’t hurt you since the first day, but you could never be too safe. As you enter the opening, you hear an electric hum. A bright red light descends in the darkness, Maul’s face being lit up by the glow. “Always remember I am pain,” he says through a manic chuckle. He raises his other hand in the air, and all of a sudden, an invisible force has you levitating. He throws his arm to the side, and you fly across the cave, tumbling to the ground in a heap. “Maul it’s-“ before you can say anything, your windpipe closes, a crushing feeling around your neck. Like somebody is… choking you. Your hands claw at your throat, frantically trying to free yourself. Maul launches toward you, the red light blinding you as it gets closer. You raise your blaster and fire into his shoulder. He jolts backward on impact, a grunt heaving from his chest. The unseen hand on your throat releases, and you clamber to your feet. “No.. I’m sorry… come ba-“Maul's eyes are wide, like one of his other personalities had snatched back control. Before he could finish his sentence, you had turned around and sprinted from the cave. Adrenaline has completely taken over; you fly over the piles of scrap and make it back to your ship. As you sink into the pilot's chair, the hormones leave your system. Tears begin flowing, a floodgate opens. You cry uncontrollably for what feels like hours, the reality of your life almost ending sinking in. This was the last straw; you could never go back there. He wasn’t lying; he is dangerous, you should be scared.