Darth Maul vs. The Kickboxing Class
The boys belong to George Lucas. My Apprentice and Darth Mary Sue are the Sith Academy's. The lyrics were inspired by Ricky Martin. Thanks to Siubhan for letting me play. Thanks go to Bodies in Motion in Los Angeles, a most Sithly health club, for the inspiration.
It was 5 a.m. and Maul sat in a rumpled pair of black boxers and his "Sith Lords Kick Ass" t-shirt playing his newest video game, "Jedigeddon." He had reached the third level, and was snickering madly as his virtual landspeeder mowed over screaming Jedi and Padawan twits on the screen. He had just run over a Rodian tourist for double the points when the screen went blank.
Maul knew better than to cry in anguish. He sighed and turned around in time to see Palpatine in mid-pose for Dramatic Entrance #136. Unfortunately for Maul, it was a pose that exposed his master's ensemble underneath the senator's robes.
Palpatine sported a tight red shiny tank top with stripes down the sides, matching short shorts, sequined fanny pack, glittery legwarmers, and a pair of red shiny athletic shoes with two-inch thick white rubber soles.
Maul fought to hold down his gorge and said, "What hideous task do you have for me at this insane hour, my Master?" He saw, to his dismay, that My Apprentice was thoroughly passed out cold on his couch.
You're missing a perfect opportunity to shed fur on dark blue robes.
zzzzzzzzzzz, she replied and tossed a paw in the air.
"Maul," Sidious flounced and stopped. He looked toward the bedroom. "I sense a disturbance in the Force," he said and sashayed towards the door.
Maul instantly panicked, dashed to the bedroom, and shut the door quietly. "Yes, your son is here," he said in a hushed tone. "Obi-Wan is still sleeping and I see no reason to wake him up."
Palpatine's eyes narrowed and purple lightening crackled faintly from them. Maul glanced at his master's shoes and wondered if the size of the sole would hinder Palpatine if he chose that moment to slay him.
"Oh, not yet, my young apprentice," Sidious cackled. "Your rage is not nearly complete enough to strike me down. You've become soft from spending too much time with my son. You're even going out of your way to make sure he isn't awakened at this hour."
Maul opened his mouth, ready to explain that a grumpy Obi-Wan was a turned-off Obi-Wan but...
I thought you were asleep, you worthless hairball!
Thus humbled, Maul gritted his teeth and looked at the floor. "Yes, my Master. What is your bidding?"
Palpatine gave a smug smile and extracted a card from a pocket from his fanny pack. "This is a membership card for the gym called Bodies in Torture. The address is on it. You are to attend a kickboxing class with me."
Maul took the card and frowned. "A kickboxing class, master? That is all?"
Palpatine cackled. "Oh, not just any kickboxing class, but the most popular workout on Coruscant. It's even more popular than aerobics was last year. We are going to put in an appearance for my Public Health Program."
"But, Master, how do you think this will increase my anger and rage? I am very fit, and I can handle a kickboxing class."
Sidious opened the door to Maul's apartment and said, "You underestimate the power of Bodies in Torture. When you are through with the class, your hatred will be complete and you surely will be ready to strike me down. I shall meet you there in half an hour."
With that, he was gone.
Ten minutes later, Maul was in his landspeeder, his black beaten up gym bag sat beside him as he made his way to Calocour Heights along the crowded I-B36a.
How the Force does the Interstate get clogged at 6 in the morning? Maul thought, the anger pooling in his intestines. He gripped the steering column tightly and accelerated his speeder when traffic lightened up, only having to jam on the breaks one minute later when it backed up again.
"RRAAAARRRGGGHHH!!! I'll never make it to this class in time at this pace!" Maul roared.
Growling, Maul sat back in his seat and thought about the class. He, Darth Maul, Sith Lord, who had moved Cyn's unbearably heavy furniture, who could move like a smuggler's spacecraft being chased by a Republic Battlecruiser, who had stomached playing "hide the package" with Darth Sidious, was not about to be daunted by a silly kickboxing class.
The thought calmed him a bit. The old dirty bastard was getting senile (a statement Maul felt proven given his master's choice of workout clothing that day). This was going to be easy.
Just then a hoverlimo cut in front of him without signaling the lane change. Roaring, he noticed the bumper sticker on the limo. "A Vote for Palpatine is a Vote For Order." On the other side of the bumper, there was the distinct "Bodies in Torture" sticker, marking the owner as a member. With a sinking heart, Maul looked at the other car bumpers and saw they all had the same stickers. The bovine motorists were all going to the same place.
Summoning the Dark Side into his being, he howled an ear-deafening shriek and mind whammied the glazed drivers into thinking an ambulance was heading down the expressway. The dutiful flock crammed to the side of the road and Maul glided through.
Maul strode into the health club with his natty bag slung over one shoulder. He glared at anyone that dared get into his way. He should have known a simple mind whammy would not be sufficient for clearing morning traffic. The flock's hurry to cram to the side of the road had resulted in a four-car pileup. His blood pressure had soared to abnormal levels as he watched motorists slow to gape at the carnage resulting from the accident. He tore the steering column with his horns every few minutes when he saw his exit a mere mile ahead of him, but yet could only move a foot a minute.
He arrived at the front desk of Bodies in Torture and showed the smiling clerk in the uniform polo shirt his membership card.
"Slide the card, strip side down, through the ID box," the clerk chirped merrily. Maul caressed the sheathed saber at his side and swiped the card. The holo-screen in front of the attendant beeped angrily, and Maul was invited to swipe the card again. A second swipe did not improve the holo-screen's temperament. The attendant took Maul's card and swiped it for him. The holo-screen gave a much more pleasant beep as the attendant washed his hands in the sink next to the unit.
"Thank you, Mister Maul! Ahhh I see it is your first visit. You'll need a towel token subscription."
"What is that for?" Maul asked as a sweaty member gave his towel to the attendant, who grasped the towel with two fingers, threw it into a bin with a load of other smelly towels. He again washed his hands in the basin next to the terminal.
"We at Bodies in Torture have a strict towel code. You need to carry one around you when you work out. It keeps the funk factor down in the club. When you leave, you hand in your towel, and we give you a token," the attendant said and lifted said token for Maul to see. He turned to the sink again and washed his hands. "Then, when you come back, you give us the token for another towel. Doesn't that work nicely?"
Sith do not wipe their sweat, he felt the Sith Handbook flap in his mind.
Maul waved a hand. "I do not need a towel subscription."
"But, of course you do! C'mon it's only 10 credits," the clerk chirruped back as Maul's jaw became unhinged. It was then he saw the sign taped to the back of the holo-screen that said "All attendants are trained to block mind whammies. Mind whammies are not allowed. This means YOU, Jinn."
"Fine," he grunted. "I will be taking a boxing class. Where does that meet?"
"Oh, if you're going to take a boxing class, then you'll need hand wraps and boxing gloves," the clerk said.
"I definitely do not require such sissy items."
"Oh come now, Mister Maul. Those are 150 pound bags in there. You'd bust your knuckles for sure without any sort of protection. It's only 10 credits for the wraps, and 5 credits to rent the boxing gloves."
"Alright!" Maul roared. "Just don't make me any more late for this class you infernal humanoid!"
The happy clerk added up the items on the terminal, after which he washed his hands at the basin. Maul pulled out Qui-Gon's credit card reflexively.
"Sir, this isn't your credit card," the clerk finally frowned. Maul growled and snatched the credit card back. As he reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash, he noticed the attendant wash his hands yet again.
"Why do you wash your hands so much?" Maul sneered.
"Because clean hands are happy hands," the attendant replied and held up a pair of over-washed, bleeding, raw appendages and wiggled his fingers. "These happy fingers tell me all the time to keep them sweetly scrubbed!"
Maul's jaw dropped and suddenly felt like he needed to wash his hands. He dropped the items the attendant had passed over to him.
Maul decided he did not want to be late for the class due to the nutter standing before him. He nodded and handed the cash over.
"Thank you, Maul! The boxing class is one floor up, and the locker rooms are one floor below."
Maul gathered the towel, gloves and wraps carefully and headed for the locker room quickly, not wanting to watch the attendant viciously scrubbing his hands again. Once inside, he bumped into Qui-Gon, who frowned and stopped him.
"Maul, my padawan was supposed to meet me here for a power yoga class. Do you know where he is?"
"Yeah I do," he snarled. "Right now he's in my bed recovering from the best fuck he's ever had." Qui-Gon flushed red as Maul pushed past him and muttered, "Out of my way, aging hippie."
The words gave Jinn pause. "Tattooed freak! You only think you can satisfy Obi-Wan the way I did!"
Maul grinned savagely and turned around, almost casually looking up into the Jedi's red face.
"I don't care if you keep deluding yourself. The only thing that matters to me is that you keep getting brought to the emergency room to get stuff removed from certain...orifices..."
Maul, feeling very satisfied with himself, left Qui-Gon gaping at the locker room door. The words Three snaps up in Z formation, girlfriend! rang through his mind. Augh! he thought I'm channeling my master! He shook his head to clear it.
Inside the locker room, various beings in sundry stages of fitness and undress wandered purposefully about. Maul averted his eyes as a Hutt strode from the showers with only a towel slung about his middle. He nearly lost last night's dinner at the sight of a Toydarian shaving his armpits. Thoroughly squicked, he looked away and almost ran into Palpatine, who was openly admiring a young man just popping out of a shower.
"Ahh, my young Apprentice, it is good to see you made it in time," Palpatine said after he ripped his attention away from young flesh.
"Yes, my master," Maul replied and quickly dropped his belongings off in a locker and ran back upstairs.
He was about to pass the reception floor when he heard a familiar voice hailing him.
"Mister Maul? Oh Mister Maul?"
He growled and continued on his way up to the classroom. He reached the second stair when a hand grabbed his arm.
"What???" he barked and turned around.
"Mister Maul, this is your first time here, so there is a mandatory tour I need to guide you through. You know, so you can find your way around," the attendant said.
"I'm going to be late for the kickboxing class," Maul snapped.
"Yes, yes, but this is absolutely mandatory. I'll get fired if I don't do this immediately."
Good Maul thought. "I'm going to this class. Bugger off, willya?"
"Mister Maul, I apologize, but Bodies in Torture will revoke your membership if you don't go on this tour. It's rather harsh, but they want to be sure all their members are familiar with the club before they start working out. I think it's some sort of legal mumbo-jumbo."
"Aaaarrggghhh," Maul said and thought about Sidious's purple lightening frying his hide if he were to lose the expensive membership. "All right. Show me around."
"Oh lovely, Mister Maul! If you'll step this way, we'll start on the top floor where our Mega-Cardio machines are located!"
With that, Maul was whisked to the top floor. He tried not to notice that the attendant carried a bottle of Squick-Free Disinfectant.
"Isn't this a lovely workout room, Mister Maul?" the attendant gushed. "And smell that?" the attendant then sniffed. "No, you don't smell that! Because there's no funk! We keep everything so clean!" With that, the attendant squirted some Squick-Free Disinfectant into his hands and rubbed it in.
Maul dejectedly looked around the Mega-Cardio room. In one corner, a Wookiee in white running shorts, gym shoes, and headband was jogging on a treadmill, making its long, brown silky locks bounce to the rhythm of the bubble gum pop playing over the speakers.
A pounding sound and a disturbance in the Force turned Maul's gaze from the anguished beings on the cardio machines to a large room in the corner. Maul guessed that whoever designed the place had wanted to motivate passersby to take the class being held within by installing view windows, but already he could see that was a bad idea.
Distracted, he grabbed the attendant's arm and said, "What...is...that?"
"Oooh that..." the attendant replied *squirt squirt rub rub* "That's Podracers. Goodness, I consider myself in shape, and that nearly killed me."
Inside the rage-heated room, row after row of beings ran on treadmills at full tilt while carrying full-sized decommissioned pod racers high above them. A fury-filled bulk of a man in leather tight hot pants, spiked boots, and choker harness led the class, his pod proudly held aloft as he screamed at his students.
"One and two and three and lift those pods higher you scum! Now turn around and run backwards! I can still see you, vermin! Run faster you filthy trash!"
Maul wasn't the least bit surprised to see one of the Human students suddenly buckle and fall to the ground, becoming tangled in the treadmill. The weight of the pod crushed student and machine when it hit.
The attendant grabbed Maul and headed for the stairs. "Ooookay if you'll follow me, we'll go to the next floor." *squirt squirt rub rub*
Maul snickered and went along.
The next floor was the weight room, and another room in the corner held Qui-Gon's Power Yoga class. Maul stood at the glass and watched. About thirty beings followed a willowy granola girl in stretching/breathing exercises. The stretching was interesting, however, in that many of the students could not twist themselves into the same shapes the instructor was achieving.
Maul smirked evilly, turned to the attendant, and faked a sneeze. While the once-perky clerk went into a Squick-Free Disinfectant frenzy *squirt squirt rub rub squirt squirt rub rub* he strode into the yoga class. The willowy woman greeted Maul warmly.
"Well hello! Will you be joining us today?" she asked.
"No," Maul replied, smiled again when he caught Qui-Gon's eye. "I'm just touring the gym, and I was wondering if you cover Hotha Yoga."
"Err...no, sir, I'm sorry I've never heard of that discipline," the instructor replied as her eyebrows drew together into worried look.
"Oh, that's OK. It's a little-known group of movements from my home world," Maul replied. "I'll demonstrate."
Maul then proceeded to twist himself into the most unlikely pretzel-like form. He then looked up, and straight at Qui-Gon. He steeled himself for what he was going to say, knowing the embarrassment he was about to take on the chin would be rewarded a thousand-fold.
"My boyfriend finds my flexibility a big turn-on," Maul said, and reveled in the jealousy and rage that emanated from the Jedi.
He left the room as Qui-Gon got himself into the exact same position. The Jedi was removed on a stretcher while Maul took particular interest in the free-weights.
"Errrr," the attendant stuttered and grabbed Maul again. "That concludes our tour, Mr. Maul. Thank you so much for becoming a member. I hope I see you again really soon." *squirt squirt rub rub*
He was painfully late for the kickboxing class. The class was just ending its stretching routine and was about to start pounding bags. Maul frowned when he realized that the same leather-clad sadist who led the Podracers class was also the instructor for kickboxing. A small button pinned to the harness said "Hi! My name is T'rent Rez-Nor." Maul looked for a spare bit of floor where he could stretch and nearly tripped over Darth Mary Sue.
"What are you doing here?" she said and rose.
"Another lesson from your father," he replied. Sidious showed his usual flare for timing and suddenly burst through the room's doors.
"T'rent!" Sidious shrilled and practically pranced over to the instructor's side. "You said you would be at my house at 8 p.m. sharp last night! Where were you?"
The instructor placed his hands on his hips and said, "I do not answer your questions, worm. You submit to me."
Sidious raised a hand and turned his nose up petulantly. "Talk to the hand! The rest is pissed!"
Mary Sue smirked at the scene and offered to help Maul wrap his hands.
"Is that really necessary?" he grimaced.
"Oh yes it is," she said, grinned evilly and began to roll the fabric around his hands.
"What are you doing here?"
"I don't think I can fully explain until you've been through this class, but it is perfect for honing PMS hatred," she replied. "You can feel the Dark Side flowing freely during this class, from everyone. In fact...I'm surprised I haven't seen you here before."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Twenty minutes later, Maul understood why so much hand protection was needed. His hands ached through the thick padding and vinyl. His arms screamed with fury. His legs felt shaky and wobbly. I am hot shit!! Maul thought to himself, and it became a mantra.
To make things worse, the instructor had chosen Latin pop to keep his class moving. Ricky Martian was thumping from the speakers, re-mixed to pound out at twice the normal beat.
She's into purple lightening
Black robes and saber burn
I feel a certain stinging
That girl's gonna make me turn
Maul snarled maliciously and attacked the bag with the full force of the Dark Side. He was a whirlwind of motion, kicking and punching the bag from every direction. I am hot shit!
He looked over to where Sidious was limply hitting the punching bag. Rez-nor walked near Sidious, who then stopped punching to lick his index finger and then poke the instructor, giggling all the time. Maul cringed and returned to the bag.
She's into new world order
New laws but there's no light
She's caused a new disorder
The land is such a blight
The instructor approached with a big grin on his face. He eyed Maul appreciatively. "That's it, tough guy. Really kick that bag. That's it! With the side of your foot! Great now growl! Grrrr!" Maul kicked the bag then growled at the instructor.
"Oh, yes, that's it big boy," the instructor purred.
Sidious suddenly appeared beside Rez-nor and whapped him with his fanny pack. "You are my daddy, dammit! Hands off of him!"
Rez-nor growled and grabbed Sidious by his shimmery tank top. "Back at your punching bag, slave!"
"Ooooh Tr'ent, yes..." Sidious swooned.
Maul grimaced, coughed, and attacked the bag with more vehemence.
She'll make you take your robes off
And go fighting in the rain
She'll make you live the dark side
Or she'll take away your pain
Like a saber to your brain
Maul panted and relished that his mind was starting to go numb. He could clearly feel the rage and hatred building within the class, particularly within a great many of the female students.
(Upside inside out)
She's living la Vida sitha
Maul shifted his gaze to where Mary Sue was pounding at a bag. Her face was red and drenched with sweat, her teeth were bared, and her eyes showed that she was clearly somewhere else...in a hell of her own. He started pounding away at his own bag again when he realized the sight was making his shorts unbearably tight.
(She'll push and pull you down)
She's living la Vida sitha
The instructor abruptly had the class stop punching and kicking the heavy bags to run laps around the long rows. After 50 laps, the class was instructed to switch direction for another 50 laps.
(Her lips are devil red)
And her skins the color redda
"Okay, now on the floor!" the instructor bellowed. "Gimme 100 push ups! On the tips of your fingers ONLY, you putrid worms!"
"Master, you don't really want to make me do that, do you?" A silky voice called up to Rez-nor from the floor.
"Don't make me get the whip, insolent cur!" the instructor bellowed at Sidious.
"Oh baby, yes, get the whip!"
(She will make you turn)
She's living la Vida sitha
The class grunted as one and hit the floor.
Living la vida sitha
A half an hour later
Maul lay on the floor, drenched in sweat, his breath gone. He felt like Sidious was Force-closing his throat shut. His chest burned. He couldn't feel the rest of his body. The instructor had the class in cool-down stretching and abdominal crunches, but Maul was inclined to stare at the ceiling blankly. He couldn't move.
"C'mon, big guy. You can handle another 10 minutes! This is the easy part!"
"Let him be," Sidious said, feeling Maul's hatred focused into a fine point. Sidious reached around and pulled T'rent into a hug. "He is fine the way he is."
"Spare the rod, spoil the child, Senator," T'rent replied in a husky voice.
Maul growled weakly. Had he any strength in him, he would have run down to the locker room for his lightsaber and cleaved bondage boy in two. However, at the moment he was wondering how he was going to drive home.
"You know, you didn't have to do the whole hour. You can pace yourself until you can handle it."
With a hushed growl, Maul said, "Sith...do...not...pace..."
"Okay, big guy," the instructor snickered. Thankfully, T'rent allowed Sidious to lead him away.
Maul swore an oath to himself to return when his strength was back and raze the entire place to the ground.
Finally, the class was over and Maul dragged himself to his feet. He limped feebly to the classroom doors and let himself out. He just wanted at the water fountain he had seen on his way in...
...only to find the entire class lined up in front of the fountain. Maul didn't even possess the strength to whammy the line away.
Two hours later
Maul let himself into his apartment with a sigh. He had nearly fallen asleep in his car on the way home, which was a route jammed with full-fledge morning rush hour traffic. Part of the tie-up had been due to a funeral procession. Maul was so tired he couldn't even enjoy it. Then he had found that the lift in his building was once again out of order. He had crawled the 42 stories up to his floor.
He dropped his gym bag in his bedroom, as well as the towel he forgot to return for a token. He swore to himself and saw that Obi-Wan was just waking up. He couldn't even sneer.
My Apprentice hopped into the room, ready to shred his gym bag, the towel, and shed fur all over the sweaty Sith. She leapt onto the gym bag, shed volume turned up all the way, then she stopped and sniffed. Wrinkling her nose, she raced out of the bedroom and hid under the couch. There are some things that are too scary even for a Sith cat.
"Where have you been?" Obi said sleepily and stretched. "You smell like a womprat corpse."
"Bodies in Torture...kickboxing," Maul replied and felt a small inner elation when Obi-Wan widened his eyes and gasped. Maul nodded. "You were supposed to meet that old hippie for Power Yoga."
"Fuck him," Obi said and relaxed. "He would've spent the whole thing staring at my ass while I stretched."
"Eh, he got tied up anyway," Maul replied dryly.
Maul peeled his shirt and shorts from his body as Obi-Wan sat up and openly stared at him. "Stretching, huh? Doesn't sound too tough. When's the next class?" Maul asked.
"I'd have to check the schedule," Obi replied and tackled Maul. He threw Maul over his shoulder and forcibly put him into the shower. "But my father left a message on the answering machine. He said something about meeting up with him for Podracers tomorrow..."
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