Cry Havoc and Let Slip the Dogs of War!
by Galadriel
galadriel@home.com
[Read Galadriel's author bio]

Disclaimer: As always, the boys belong to George--I just took them out for a bit of fun. I promise they'll be home before curfew, Mr. Lucas!

Many, many thanks to Siubhan for creating the backyard she lets us play in, to Katherine the Art Chick and Darth J. Landry for introducing a certain Alderaanian Mastiff into the Academy and to all the other contributing writers who left enough rope for me to hang myself with. My heartfelt thanks also go to Ophelia, my beta-reader and fanfic-sempai, and of course to my dear destructive escape-artist of a canine, Nanuk. I wouldn't have been able to write it if she hadn't provided the, um, inspiration.

Based on a True Story.

Darth Maul awoke to the sound of heavy breathing in his ear. Burying his head deeper into the shredded pillowcase, he pushed through the thick fog surrounding his memories of the night before, desperately trying to remember if he had gone to bed alone. Taking stock of the situation, Maul started a mental checklist.

Furry taste in mouth. Check. Erg. The inside of his mouth tasted like he'd licked a Wookiee. Oh no, he thought, I didn't actually LICK one, did I? His fingers snaked out from beneath his pillow to gingerly pat his head. No. No, he couldn't have. All his horns were still intact.

Hangover. Check. His head felt like it had been repeatedly smashed in by a lemon slice wrapped around a solid gold brick. On second thought, make that a double check.

Maul blearily turned his head to the side and forced his left eye open.

Tight leather pants discarded on floor. Check. He vaguely remembered Sidious insisting he wear those hideous things once again to hone his rage and hatred so that he might "rise up and strike his Master down." Yeah right. It's pretty hard to rise up out of a sitting position in those things, let alone strike anyone down. But he had to admit he really did feel the hatred flowing through him whenever Sidious set out to ogle him. Maul felt the familiar rush of anger wash over his form once again. Maybe it finally IS time for me to rise up and strike my Master down, he noted. His eye swiveled to the clock that was just barely visible beneath the shifting heap of sentient pizza boxes and dirty laundry. Just give me five more minutes first. He shoved his face back into his mattress, pulling the remains of his blankets over his head.

The heavy breathing continued, accompanied by a small whine. Oh for SITH'S sake. Why won't the little twit shut up? How many times do I have to tell him Sith do not cuddle?

Realization dawned on him. Oh no. He'd slept with Obi-Wan. Aga...

No, wait. Yesterday was Tuesday. Maul considered the implications of this for quite some time. A little part of Maul's brain piped up, reminding him that even if yesterday WAS Friday, he wouldn't be lying next to Obi-Wan this morning. The simpering Padawan and his sugar-daddy Qui-Gon had left on some sort of training mission the week before, foregoing the usual evening at The Grey Side in order to "referee diplomatic negotiations" on a nearby pleasure planet. And that, said the little voice, is why you were drinking last...OW! The voice retreated before the rest of Maul's brain decided to beat it up some more.

Right. So if he wasn't sleeping with Obi-Wan, then who was in bed with him? Maul rolled over onto his back, shit-eating grin spreading over his features. Clearly he'd picked up and bedded some gorgeous chick who just couldn't resist his fearsome masculinity. She'd immediately fallen into his arms and been carted back to his apartment, where she'd begged and writhed beneath his rough tattooed hands. Yeah. He remembered it all now. She was a blonde...no, a brunette. Hold on, didn't he bring two women home last night? Yeah. They were twins. I remember now. Suddenly, the buoyant bubble of his memories distended and snapped back with another vision. Damn. Those weren't twins, just the products of drunken double vision...But what a double vision! TWO Darth Mary Sues! Oh baby! Maul thought, I am SUCH hot...

...SHIT! What was that smell? Somewhere between rotting fruit and diseased meat, the warm breath continued unabated in Maul's face. He squeezed his eyes closed even tighter, hoping to shut out the smell by shutting down the rest of his senses. Was this the newest form of torture to be meted out by My Apprentice? Frantically, he thought back. Had he forgotten to feed her? No, there was no way that could have happened. Was she sick? Had she DIED? Is that why it smelled so bad? No, he realized with relief. I can hear her kicking the shit out of her litter box. It must be time for her breakfast then. He sighed and finally opened his eyes.

It was big. REALLY big. Really, really fucking big. And the teeth...They were the size and approximate shape of one of those white picket fences he'd seen featured on Dark Side Living with Dartha Stewart. She'd whipped up a perfect fence post in no time using nothing but twine, a Sith Army Knife, and some bleached driftwood. Of course, he was more impressed with her segment on unusual cookie cutters. If he could just get his hands on the Jedi set, he could whip up some really nice sugar cookies. A lot of brown icing and some edible blue sparkles and he could do a pretty good rendition of his boyfr... neighbor. The little twit was NOT his boyfriend! He's merely a casual sex partner. Something...er, someone to do Friday nights. Nothing more. There was a grinding noise as large eyeteeth slammed together, quickly wrenching his attention back to the gaping maw in front of him. Man, he mused as he faced the beast, I need to get out more.

The creature gazed at him, bloodlust shining in its eyes.

Maul glared back, quietly citing the Handbook rule that SITH DO NOT GET SCARED.

I will crush your bones like toothpicks. The creature's countenance broadcast its message loud and clear. But first, you're going to pet me!

The Handbook sat in the corner, hastily scribbling down the new codicil: MOST OF THE TIME.

***

Soaked in rapidly cooling dog drool, Darth Maul stumbled out of his bedroom, Cerberus at his heels. Once the canine had tired of forcing Maul to pet him, he had amused himself by playfully destroying the mattress and bedside table. Maul sighed. This creature was strong in the Dark Side.

Yanking his least crunchy Sith Lords Kick Ass T-shirt over his head, he wandered into the kitchen. Sitting at the table,

Fully clothed, dammit.

was Darth Mary Sue. She looked up from her coffee and the latest issue of Empire as Cerberus trotted over to her and nuzzled her free hand.

Maul hooked his thumbs into the top of his boxers. "Hey, baby, wanna fu..."

Maul's windpipe closed up as Mary Sue waved her hand and cut him off. Man, she's good. When I strike Sidious down, she WILL be my apprentice. He gasped and grinned as his airway reopened.

"When you get up in the morning, Apprentice, how do you decide which shade of black to wear?" Sidious's sneering tone broke through Maul's contemplation. He lounged against the kitchen counter, dressed to the nines in his Palpatine garb. "A Sith you may be, and strong in the Dark Side as well, but fashion sense you do not have." He shook his head. "What happened to those lovely leather pants I bought for you? Or the wrap-around shirt with the marabou collar? I swear, those black boots went SO well with the rest of your outfit last night...that is, until you threw up on them."

Maul's stomach churned as the truth of the evening's events flooded his mind. The Grey Side. The multiple Saarlac shooters. Some drunken ramblings on stage to the tune of "You are the Sunshine of My Life" followed up by a full-throated rendition of "Always on my Mind." Tossing a couple Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters down...Tossing a couple Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters UP. A close-up of the floor, Sidious's and Mary Sue's arms dragging him into the elevator, and an unceremonious thud onto his own bed. In that condition it was unlikely that he could remember his own name, let alone perform stunning feats of sexual prowess.

Taking a sip of coffee, Mary Sue held up the magazine she was reading and chuckled. "Bought the edition with your boyfriend on the cover, eh?"

"He's not my..." Maul looked at the picture of Obi-Wan and sagged, momentarily defeated. "It was the only one they had left." Mary Sue grinned, her chuckle turning into a full-blown laugh. She tossed the publication at him as she returned to sipping her coffee and absentmindedly scratching Cerberus's head.

Maul deftly caught the fluttering pages and set them back on the table, smoothing out a crease that threatened to warp the front cover publicity photo. So it wasn't because of those blue, blue eyes staring out from the cover, hmmm? My Apprentice snorted as her master glared at her.

Mary Sue glanced back up at Maul. "Anyways, I'm here because I need you to take care of Cerberus for the next couple of days. Palpy and I are going to Tatooine and I can't leave him alone at my place. He'll get lonely."

The dog sucked absentmindedly on a strip of bedsheet still stuck between its teeth, giving the onlookers a better view of his back molars.

My Apprentice took one look, zipped past her master and darted under the couch.

Where are you going? Maul projected at her. You're a Sith! Sith are not cowards!

A Sith I may be, she answered from her hiding place, but I'm not stupid.

Maul turned his attention back to his teacher. "Tatooine, Master? But it is sparsely populated and not part of the Republic...and they haven't even released Jedi Roadkill XI there yet!"

"The Hutts, however, are important campaign contributors, Maul," Sidious snickered, "and Mary Sue is just the kind of young, nubile female I need around to sweeten the deal."

"There will be NO touching this time. Are we clear on that?"

Sidious laughed.

"Can you not take the animal with you, my Master?"

"Dogs aren't allowed on Hutt-controlled planets. They have a tendency to equate the Hutts with extremely large, slimy rubber balls. Not a pretty sight. Besides," Sidious pointed out, "it will hone your rage and hatred, my Apprentice."

"Look, if my brother was here, he could take care of 'Berus for me. In fact, I'd prefer that. But he's not, so that makes you it." Mary Sue looked less than impressed. This was not the reaction Maul was hoping to elicit from her. Regardless, he forged onward.

"No. There is no way that that thing is staying in this apartment. No." Maul summoned up a snarl worthy of a Dark Side warrior. Cerberus, thinking Maul wanted to play, bounced up from his station beside his mistress, growling so loudly that the walls shook.

"Do you like sleeping with me?" Mary Sue sighed wearily, taking no heed of the plaster falling from the shaking walls. "Because your obvious disregard for my current predicament could certainly hamper any future considerations." Maul looked at the dog, then at Mary Sue.

***

Day 1:

The noise was becoming unbearable. How on Coruscant was a Sith supposed to concentrate? For the fifth time that day, Darth Laura Croft stood at the edge of the melting pit, staring down at the squealing Padawan hanging below. If he could just extend Laura's 'saber a little more, Maul could fry the fingers off the soon-to-be-jerky Jedi and finish Jedi Temple Raider XXV once and for...

"WOOF!" The couch shook and Maul's teeth rattled.

"Rraow! Hisssss!" My Apprentice whipped past her master's head on her way to higher ground. Just as she attained the highest shelf on the bookcase, Cerberus rounded the kitchen door and stampeded through the living room. His front claws dug deeply into Maul's sock-clad feet as he scrabbled for purchase on the surging mass Maul affectionately referred to as "the floor."

"Auuuuuuuugh!" Maul dropped the PlayStation controller and clasped his rapidly bleeding foot.

Onscreen, the little computer-controlled Jedi gathered the Force around him and...

That was it. He couldn't take the hissing, the barking, the fighting and the bleeding any more, Mary Sue be damned.

...somersaulted into the air...

Maul swiftly called his weapon to hand,

...igniting his lightsaber...

igniting the fearsome red blades and...

...and neatly cut a very surprised Darth Laura in half.

"NooooOOOOoooo!" Laura tumbled head over torso, feet over knees into the yawning shaft as Maul stared, shocked and angry as the game's closing credits proudly proclaimed his defeat at the hands of the Light Side. Would he never beat that infernal Jedi? Maul dropped his 'saber and sank back down in the couch, sobbing into his hands.

The battle continued to rage beside him, My Apprentice taking refuge behind the Handbook which had fled Cerberus's playful nature seconds before. Although the Sith Handbook was indestructible, apparently it was still dent-able. Its pages were drenched and its cover bore the telltale imprints of a canine jaw. If only it had listened to its mother and become a trunk or some other respectable piece of luggage. Surely a life of abuse by airport staff was nothing compared to the horror of becoming a chew toy. It peered over the edge, pages heaving as it struggled to regain its Sithly composure. My Apprentice joined the book and the two stared down, only to be greeted by the sight of Cerberus pacing at the foot of the bookcase, his eyes glittering.

You and I WILL play. There is no escape. There is only me. The dog seemed to smile as he reared up on his back legs, his front paws scraping at the shelves. The few non-sentient hint books Maul owned suddenly rose up and seized conscious self-awareness, abandoning their places, preferring to risk life lost in the carpet rather than spend another minute near those paper-shredding claws. Cat and Handbook shrank back, deciding to regroup closer to the wall. Cerberus wagged his tail furiously, happy and secure in the knowledge that he had more than enough friends to romp with in his temporary dwelling.

All he had to do was wait.

***

Day 2:

He'd never seen so much sand in his life. As far as the eye could see, beige dunes stretched in all directions. It was the perfect place for Jedi to hide. Those taupe freaks would blend seamlessly into the background, but with time he would find them. Oh yes indeed, he would find them.

His sexy and oh-so-cool speeder hovered above the ground, gliding to a stop as he dismounted and sauntered into the cantina. Granted an audience with Gardulla, he slipped through a back door into the antechamber, bowing gracefully as he approached her. His eyes barely flickered as he took in the half-naked Padawan bound and chained at the Hutt's feet.

Two limpid blue-green pools looked up at him as the slave raised his head. A shuddering voice, full of pleading and anguish, implored the Sith Apprentice with words of desire and longing. "Oh Maulie," he said, "how much is that doggy in the window?"

"What?"

"The one with the waggily tail!" Sidious sauntered out from behind a conveniently placed curtain, leading a pack of miniature poodles dyed all sorts of idiotic colors. The one in his Master's arms appeared to be...PINK? And to the Apprentice's unending horror, it was wearing booties and a standard issue Sith Lord cloak. "Have you met my NEW Apprentice, Maul?" He held the dog in his outstretched arms as it looked at the former student and snarled.

Maul blinked, backing away. Glancing quizzically up at his host he noticed that the yawning cavern that stood in for the Hutt's mouth was occupied in chewing up something metallic. The creaking of bending steel was accompanied by repeating high-pitched bleeps and whistles. As he watched, Gardulla grew fuzzier, her features shifting and reforming themselves into a fluffy mass more suited to growling and barking and biting...and...

Maul opened his eyes.

Cerberus stood on the bed, his full mouth dripping with drool. His jaws unhinged as he let a slippery metal ball fall heavily on Maul's chest.

"My...my probe droid!" He glared at the fizzling mangled heap as it let out a slurred beep. "It took me SIX months to collect enough box tops to get it. Six months of eating nothing but Supreme Councilor Chocula Flakes. I HATE Councilor Chocula." Maul threw his arm out from under the covers, calling his lightsaber to hand. It rattled briefly against the coffee pot before flying through the air and hitting the kitchen door. He sighed, abruptly remembering where he'd left it. Mental note to self: don't leave 'saber in kitchen after fishing jammed pieces of bread out of the toaster.

We're going to play ball! The dog glared knowingly at the sleepy Sith Lord. It was getting easier and easier to read the canine's thoughts. I will take great pleasure in slowly ripping each and every horn off of your spiny head. The beast's muzzle split open in an eerily intelligent grin.

Suddenly, Cerberus sat straight up and cocked his head, his body vibrating slightly as he listened intently to the silence emanating from the front room. Without even a glance at the tormented Sith, he leaped off the bed and tore out into the hallway.

Maul groaned, rolled over and pulled the covers over his head.

***

Day 3:

There were no two ways about it. This was the only way he was going to survive until Mary Sue retrieved her demon-dog from his ravaged apartment. Maul leaned heavily on the door, willing it to close enough for the lock to catch. One last Force-assisted shove and he heard an audible click as the bolt slid home. It had been a trial forcing that monster into the bathroom, but with a little help from My Apprentice and the Handbook, they had managed to muster enough Sithly energy to drag the dog bodily into the small room.

All he had to do now was sit back and relax. Mary Sue would be back tomorrow, and until then, Cerberus was safely ensconced in the bathroom. Maul smirked. He truly was honing his rage to a razor sharp point. If he could conquer this beast, he could conquer anyone. Soon, he would strike his Master down. Soon, Mary Sue would be his. But right now, he mused, I could really murder a curry. The Horned God poked amongst his pizza box civilizations, searching for his stash of take-out menus. A burgeoning society of bohemian artists and writers were squashed under his left foot just as they were embarking on their Renaissance period. The survivors fled to the nearest village clasping precious object d'art only to be mercilessly slaughtered as he kneeled beside the couch, risking exposure to the toxic fumes that floated at floor level.

Ah! Maul snatched a rumpled brochure from between the couch cushions and sat down to peruse the contents, confident in the knowledge that not only was Cerberus out of the way, but both his Master and the twit next door would not be showing up unexpectedly to ruin the rest of his afternoon.

***

The scratching was barely audible at first, but after the first hour, Maul was almost sure it was emanating from somewhere outside of his head. It had been gradually increasing in volume, and while the curry hadn't sat well with his digestive system, it couldn't have been bad enough to induce auditory hallucinations. Mental note, he decided, never order the Ten-thousand-fold Curry Powder Special again. Groaning, he heaved his resisting body up from the couch, trying to locate the source of the scraping.

Oh no... No, no, no. Maul glared at the wooden frame as it slowly warped under the almost continual pressure from the other side. Concentrating a little harder, he heard what oddly enough sounded like persistent gnawing. That Sith-Spawn was attempting to escape his confines! Well, it wasn't going to work. There was no way a mere dog could scrape his way through a solid wood door. That was the beauty of his plan. Cerberus would remain trapped behind the barricade, and no amount of pawing or chewing was going to get him out.

The hideous crack of splintering wood sliced through the air as Maul watched a furry and altogether too happy face peer through the window 'Berus had just installed in the bathroom door.

***

"Not that I agree with confining 'Berus, mind you, but he can be a little bit rambunctious at times." Obi-Wan's smooth voice slid down the phone cords, "Of course, he's just a big sweetie when he stays with me, but for some reason he doesn't take to Qui-Gon very well..."

"Never mind that!" shrieking into the receiver, Maul plugged his free ear with his finger against the barking and hissing going on around him. "Just tell me what to do!" He hated having to turn to the little twit for help, but he had no other recourse. Mary Sue and his Master were in the middle of a heated political rally and therefore unreachable, and none of the pet stores he had called had any better advice than firmly tell your dog to lie down and behave. If that doesn't work, tap his snout with a rolled up newspaper. Cerberus had ripped the paper into shreds and immediately started gnawing on Maul's arm. Only the use of some very pent-up Dark Side anger had allowed Maul to extricate his arm and transfer the canine's chewing to the baseboards.

My Apprentice flew through the air, scrabbling back up the bookcase to safety.

He could hear the Padawan's smile. "Try nailing a board or two over the hole and pour a little Tabasco sauce over it. That should stop the chewing. Oh, and make sure there's lots of water and food in there for him. If he gets hungry, he'll be more likely to destroy things."

The kitchen linoleum sprayed into the hallway in chunks as Cerberus grasped and pulled upwards with his jaws. Rumbling blissfully, he stalked back through the living area and plunked down in front of the bookcase. The Handbook and My Apprentice glared down at the dog, pages and hackles bristling.

***

This was ridiculous. Sith do not turn to Jedi for help. Sith do not need help, especially not from their enemies. Sith are self-sufficient. Sith are...

"Hello?" A deep voice thick with sleep answered.

"Ageing hippie!"

There was a pause, followed by a partially muffled conversation. "Obi-Wan, it's for you."

"Master?"

"Did you give him this number?"

"Who? Oh...right. He's looking in on Fluffi-Wan and Cuddles for me, Master. I had to leave a number in case of emergencies."

The hamsters! He'd forgotten all about those infernal rodents. Maybe they've starved to death by now. Maul smiled as the thought of the possible demise of the twit's pets. That'd make the little Jedi's lower lip quiver. His baser notions took over as he felt something twitch slightly in anticipation of lightly biting into that soft, pouting flesh. I think should take My Apprentice over to his apartment later to make sure the deed is done.

"Hello, Maulie." Kenobi cooed. "How are my wittle hamstie-wampsties? Do they miss me? There's nothing wrong with them, is there?"

"Look, I nailed a board over the hole and he punched a new one higher up." Maul blatantly ignored the question and pushed onward. "I nailed a larger board overtop both holes, and he's started pulling it up by the edges. The Tabasco isn't helping. I've gone through three bottles and it hasn't even slowed him down."

"Did you feed him?"

"FEED HIM? That creature has an open bag of dog food in there, AND a bathtub full of water to drink. What more could he need?"

Cerberus trotted out of the bedroom to sit at Maul's feet, dragging a pair of unwashed and struggling jeans with him. Maul bent over to retrieve his clothing, only to be met with a snarl and gnashing teeth. Try that again and I'll have you for lunch instead of your jeans. Maul decided not to risk a confrontation as he watched the pants give up the ghost and go limp.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Well, if you must insist on keeping him in there, maybe you should try covering the inside of the door with a metal sheet. That way he won't be able to scratch through it, and he won't get any splinters if he tries. It'd be much safer for the little darling."

Little darling?

"Obi-Wan, come back to bed." The Padawan giggled as his Master whined in the background.

"Just a minute, Master....Just a min....Oooooooh....Qui-GON!" Maul shuddered at the mental picture forming behind his eyelids. "I, um, I...Mmmm...I've got to go now, Maulie. Good luck, and don't forget to check on my wittle hamsters this evening." Obi-Wan surreptitiously blew the Sith a kiss as he hung up the phone. Shivering, Maul fought the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

A couple of moments later, he'd grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. The hardware department at Wal-Mart awaited.

Inside the apartment, 'Berus busied himself by pulling everything at eye level onto the floor.

***

"What is it now, Maul?" There were no pleasantries on the Jedi's part this time, only a silent reminder of the lateness of the hour.

"Your ideas do not work. This dog is impossible. I demand you come back this instant and take this monster away before I kill him." The Sith Lord glared in the direction of the bathroom, taking in the twisted sheet metal, the gaping hole, and the shattered frame. 'Berus was perfectly happy to spend time in there as long as he could come and go as he liked. Currently, he was lapping water from the tub and batting at the lightsaber he had stolen while Maul was bolting the metal to the door.

"You did remember to wrap the sheet around the edges of the door instead of just fastening it straight on, didn't you?"

Maul scratched at the multiple scabs he had acquired when trying to retrieve his 'saber.

"I thought not." Kenobi sighed. "Look, dogs are very social creatures. He's probably suffering from separation anxiety."

"Separation anxiety?" Maul sniggered.

"Yes. Animals are just as sensitive as people, you know. Maybe if you take him out for a walk to the park or play with him a bit..."

"I DO NOT 'PLAY'!" The phone casing cracked as he slammed the receiver back onto the cradle.

My Apprentice meowed from her perch. Separation anxiety, she projected.

Separation anxiety? Yes, perhaps there was a solution after all.

***

Day 4:

It was a massive project, but in the end Maul was more than proud of his accomplishment. The jail door was perfect for his purposes. With it fastened to the doorframe, Cerberus would be able to see into the rest of the apartment, effectively spending time with the Sith Lord without the two of them coming into physical contact. And once Mary Sue took her pet away, it could be put to so many good uses. After all, Kenobi likes to roleplay, doesn't he? After these past few days I'm going to need some 'recreation'. He licked his lips and gave his recently acquired welding torch a few experimental twirls, stabbing at an imaginary Knight before shutting it off and placing it back with the rest of the tools in the box marked Property of O.W. Kenobi, Jedi Temple, Coruscant. It was the perfect plan, and soon it would be in motion, allowing Maul to get some much needed rest.

***

It wasn't difficult to ignore the whining--after all, he had a lot of practice ignoring his twit neighbor. It was difficult, however, to ignore the screeching and ripping noises. Could a dog screech? He didn't think it was possible, but here was the proof. It was the most high pitched, piercing sound he'd ever heard. Of course, the pounding as the bars repeatedly hit the doorframe wasn't helping his state of mind either. There was nothing left to do but get up and survey the damage before the inevitable happened.

One look at the carnage confirmed Maul's worst fears. Cerberus had shoved his paws through the bottom bars of the door and managed to pull up a large amount of the hallway carpeting. Only a few nails and bare wood remained, a testament to the dog's extensive reach. Currently, 'Berus was towering in the doorway at his full height, paws on the middle crossbar, rocking the door back and forth as he yelled bloody murder.

"WHIIIIIIIINE!"

Bang.

"YOWL!"

Bang.

"RaaaaaaaaaarrOOOF!"

BANG!

"WOOOOOF!"

Bang...Crack.

"WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!"

Ping! Maul ducked as the pin he had anchored in the doorframe flew across the room, narrowly missed his head and buried itself in the opposite wall. The lock and chain that had marked the boundary between Sith and canine fell uselessly to the floor. Cerberus reveled in his freedom. His first order of business would be to find that nice moving plaything the tattooed one called "My Apprentice."

Get rid of him. Now. Maul felt the full force of the cat's whammy moments before her tail disappeared underneath the couch. Caught between the need to rid the apartment of the dog and the knee-jerk desire to fetch tuna, he stood immobile and confused. After a few moments a familiar voice from the front of his apartment brought him back to himself.

"Why hello there! Who's a sweet doggie-woggie? Hmm? Are you? Yes you are!" The sandy-haired Padawan leaned over Cerberus, vigorously rubbing his exposed stomach and cooing nonsense into the creature's ears. "Hi Maul!" Kenobi chirped. "Isn't he a darling? I bet the two of you had lots of fun together, didn't you?"

The Sith Apprentice gagged on the bile rising in his throat. "Take him. Take him away now or he'll become one with your precious Force." The threat felt strangely hollow in his mouth as 'Berus glanced up from Obi-Wan's ministrations.

"Oh Maul, you're so melodramatic." The Jedi theatrically rolled his eyes as he stood up and shouldered his travel pack. "Can I at least get my apartment keys back?"

"I'll mail them to you."

"But I live right next -"

"I'll mail them. Take the dog away."

Sighing, Kenobi snapped his fingers and pointed at the space beside him. "Sit."

"What?"

"Not you," he giggled. "Cerberus, sit." The suddenly docile pet jumped up and settled in beside the Padawan. "Well, I guess we'll be going then. Let Mary Sue know he's at my place, will you?"

"Count on it."

"Cerberus, heel." Maul stood baffled as the pair walked off, animal matching human steps in a perfect semblance of obedience.

Once they were out of sight, the Sith turned around to survey his apartment. He stood in shocked silence for the better part of twenty minutes, until he felt a tap on his arm.

"Hi Maul. Palpy and I are back. Where's...Oh. Oh my." Mary Sue's gaze finally locked in on the source of his anger. Lounging behind her, Palpatine laughed. A cloak and most of Maul's stock of Sith Lords Kick Ass t-shirts lay shredded in a pool of water in the middle of the floor, a double-bladed lightsaber fizzling on top, the grips chewed beyond repair.

Maul's voice echoed throughout the apartment complex in a primal scream.

"NooooOOOOOOooooooo!"

END

(10/7/99)

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