Chapter Text
For all intents and purposes, Anakin didn’t mean for this to happen. It was just one small job to pay off his family’s debts, and he was a free man. All he had to do was wait in the car outside the bank, nice and simple. But trouble seemed to keep an eye out for one Anakin Skywalker, and trouble came in the form of a redheaded man with a gun and a briefcase, yelling at him to start driving. Who was Anakin to refuse?
He weaved through the twisting streets of Coruscant City, pushing the speed limit as far as he could. The man in the back muttered something about 10,000 dollars in cash into what looked like a burner phone. Anakin knew to keep his nose out of it. He’d been burned before.
Sirens blared from behind them, giving them chase. The man in the back told Anakin to step on it, his tone warning as to what would happen if Anakin didn’t. White-knuckling the wheel, he pressed on the gas pedal as much as he could, the car engine roaring with pressure. Anakin could feel the other man keeping a close eye on where Anakin was turning to throw off the police’s trail. If Anakin did manage to create a diversion, he looked pleased, as if he was appraising Anakin’s skills. They were racing towards an interchange in the middle of Coruscant one of the busiest roads in the city, and it was easy to lose someone. Anakin saw two cars on the road that looked very similar to the nondescript black car he was driving; the corner of his mouth pulled into a small smile as he pulled the manoeuvre to get the police car to follow one of the other cars as he took the way towards the western edge of the city. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror to see if no one was following them. All clear. But curiously, the man in the back seemed to be proud of how Anakin managed to pull off that trick, and he vocalised that too. It made Anakin feel a small flutter in his stomach- but he didn’t want to look into that now.
“You’ve done this kind of driving before, haven’t you?” his passenger asked. He was looking directly into Anakin’s eyes via the rearview mirror. The other man had this way of speaking — it was charming, amicable even, but his eyes were analysing every move or expression Anakin made.
“I used to,” Anakin answered curtly, keeping his face neutral to the best of his ability. But the man in the back seemed to be able to tell that Anakin wasn’t telling the entire truth. And maybe Anakin was being too naive, but felt he could trust this man. And even so, he did owe Anakin big time for getting away from the cops.
“I don’t think you’re telling me everything but either way, you’re good. If you're interested in a job, " I could use someone like you on my team.” Something was slipped into Anakin’s pocket, but his gut told him not to look at it. Watto would know and his mother would be disappointed that Anakin was still involved with not-so-legal activities.
“Look, where can I drop you off? Can’t risk having you in here for too long,” Anakin sighed, knowing he was in deep shit either way.
“Uscru district. You know the Outlander Club, yes?”
Anakin nodded; he’d been a patron of that club a few times, when money allowed. Anakin took a sharp left at a junction between the COMPNOR building and the Coruscant public library, heading into the entertainment district. It wasn’t long before he found the Outlander. The outside of the club was dark, the neon lights dimmed in the daylight. It would be an eyesore of colour once nightfall hit.
“Thank you for your help.” A wad of 100-dollar bills was slapped onto Anakin’s lap. “If you reconsider, call the number on the card, and ask for Kenobi.” The door to the car closed and the man disappeared into the club, leaving Anakin staring at the wad of cash he was left with and wondering how the hell he would explain this to his mother.
****
While he drove back to the other side of the city, the wad of cash felt heavier in both Anakin’s heart and lap. He’d have to either hide it or get rid of it. He was torn, since it was easily more than enough to pay off the debt, but Watto would know something was off. He shoved the wad of cash in the glovebox, so he wouldn’t have to look at it, at least.
The Junkyard is a small concert venue in the Tatooine district, on the opposite side of the city from the Outlander. It served as a cover and base of operations for Watto. It looked like a slightly shabby music hall with a small bar from the outside. Neon signs are half hanging off the walls, empty cans strewn around the perimeter of the building. Anakin sighs and enters the building, the inside looking just as grim as the outside.
Watto is there waiting for him, arms crossed. Watto isn’t a very imposing sight — Anakin is a head and shoulders taller than him — but he has power and connections that Anakin would never have. Watto speaks in a gravelly, sinister voice, asking where Anakin has been, saying that the others had to steal a car to get away from the bank they’d robbed. Anakin keeps his face neutral again, using the good handful of inches he has on Watto to look down on him, knowing he cannot show any weakness towards Watto.
“I got carjacked by another robber. Held a gun to my head and told me to drive.”
“And you did what they asked?” Watto is incredulous at Anakin’s lack of reaction. Probably mad that Anakin doesn’t outwardly react like he used to.
“Yeah, you see, I’m more useful to you alive than with a bullet in my skull.”
Watto can’t argue with that. Anakin knows he’s won.
Watto snorts derisively, muttering that it better not happen again if Anakin knows what’s good for him. Anakin only breathes once Watto has stalked past him, down into the basement of the venue. He’s free for now. But he cannot help but think someone is watching him. Anakin leaves The Junkyard, leaving the getaway car at the side of the building, but not without taking the wad of cash from the glovebox. Maybe it’s not the right thing to do, but it’s better than letting Watto find it.
With the cash shoved in his pockets, and a lit cigarette in between his lips, Anakin stalks down the streets of Tatooine, rain starting to drizzle over his head. He’s shaken from his interaction with Watto, the fear gripping around his throat like a vice. The cigarette does little to calm him. The business card Kenobi gave him is still in his pocket, calling to him like a siren. Kenobi seemed a little too good to be true, a rich man who could fix a lot of the problems in Anakin’s life with one swipe of a credit card.
But why would a rich man rob a bank? Did Kenobi lie to him? Who even was Kenobi?
The answers were only one phone call away but Anakin was still hesitant to do it. Too much risk involved if Watto or anyone connected to Watto found out. But Anakin still felt some guilt for having it in the first place. How the hell would he explain the money to his roommate? Or his mother? Should he just get rid of it?
The questions swirled around in his mind as he made it back to his apartment, a small two-bedroom in the west of the Tatooine District. The apartment was empty when he entered; his roommate, Ashoka, had left a note saying that she’d be out with friends for the rest of the day. Anakin went into his room, switching on the light. He threw the burner phone onto his bed, ignoring it in favour of the business card in his pocket.
It was a simple thing, a crisp white card with plain lettering on the front. Wouldn’t look out of place in a selection of other business cards. The name Obi-Wan Kenobi and a phone number were all that was on the card. Anakin could call the number right now, but he still hesitated. He didn’t know who this guy was and he could be taking a big risk with it, but it was still so tempting. Like a forbidden fruit that was being offered to him. He felt his heart thump in his chest as he dialled the number into the burner phone. A small part of him hoped Kenobi wouldn’t pick up.
A familiar voice answered the phone, “Hello, who is this?”
***
Anakin made it to the Outlander by about 10 pm that night, taking a cab to not draw attention to himself. The club itself was full of patrons, booming music, and favours being passed around. Anakin weaved his way around the groups of people on his way to the back of the club. Sitting at one of the tables was Kenobi, looking almost regal in a sharp slate grey suit, a Rolex watch glinting on his wrist. Something about his appearance evoked the imagery of a snake in a field of flowers in Anakin’s mind.
“Ah, you came. I was starting to think I scared you off.” Kenobi’s tone was jovial, like Anakin was an old friend, but it did little to alleviate the anxiety bubbling under the surface. Kenobi motioned for Anakin to sit down, and Anakin did so without taking his eyes off of Kenobi.
Nothing was off the table, and Anakin was prepared for anything.
“Not a talker? Ok.” Kenobi swirled some ice around in a small glass of bourbon, acting very casual in the face of Anakin’s death glare. “as I said, you’re a good driver and I could use someone like you on my team. You’d get a share in each job, and protection from Watto.”
Anakin broke his glare. how did Kenobi know about Watto?
“Ah, that got your attention. yes, I can deal with Watto for you right now, one of my men should be paying him a visit,” Kenobi said as if he were discussing a dentist appointment earlier in the day. It was a silent warning to Anakin — step out of line and no one will know he’s gone. You couldn’t entirely trust Kenobi, and Anakin would do well to remember that.
Kenobi cleared his throat. “As I was saying, if you decided to work with me, you would be paid a fair amount, and you have protection against other gangs in the Coruscant area-”
“What happens if I want out later?” Anakin interrupts, his foot tapping a rhythm on the slightly sticky floor.
Kenobi was taken aback a little by Anakin’s interruption but managed to keep on track with the conversation. “I’d let you go, I would respect your choice to leave.”
“You wouldn’t have me killed?”
“Anakin, I’m a businessman, not a monster.”
Kenobi’s joke didn’t make Anakin feel any better, it just put him more on guard. Kenobi was almost studying him like an animal in a cage, waiting for how Anakin would try to get at him next. The table he sat at with Kenobi felt claustrophobic now, and Anakin wanted to get away from this man right away. all of his instincts were screaming danger. Kenobi seemed to know too much and it was freaking Anakin out.
“Anakin? Are you listening to me Anakin,” Kenobi’s voice sounded distant and fuzzy, like Anakin was underwater. A ringing sounded in his ears and his heart felt like it was beating far too fast. He needed to get out of here, now. His chair squeaked against the floor as he got up, making moves towards the door. His legs felt shaky and his toes tingly but his body was on autopilot, weaving through the dancing patrons.
The blast of cold air against his face felt like a godsend, the first shaky breath feeling like he had finally got his head above water. Anakin leant back against the cold stone wall of The Outlander. it was starting to drizzle a little, and the sound of the rain helped to calm him down a little. His hands shook as he got his cigarettes out and lit one up. Nicotine seeped into his veins as he watched the smoke twirl away into the night sky. Other patrons paid him no mind unless they needed a light as they came in and out of the club.
Anakin nearly jumped out of his skin when Kenobi’s voice sounded next to him. “Are you alright?”
The man in question seemed to have materialised next to him, holding an umbrella over his head, still looking as prim and proper as he had inside the club. Kenobi took out his own cigarettes, a more expensive brand than the shitty cheap ones Anakin had, lighting one with a vintage lighter. “Looked like you couldn’t wait to get away from me, I hope I didn’t make a bad impression,” Kenobi chuckled, still trying to play the jovial, charming type.
“Stay away from me,” Anakin snapped. he wasn’t really sure where this aggression was coming from, but the last thing he wanted right now was Kenobi and his stupid fucking jokes.
Kenobi seemed resigned to Anakin’s aggression, taking it in his stride — he’s probably dealt with a few aggressive customers in his day. “Would you at least consider my offer?” he asked as Anakin hailed a cab for himself.
“Maybe.”
*****
Anakin stopped the cab a few blocks down from the Junkyard, he had to make sure for himself that the unspoken threat from Kenobi was true. The venue was silent, all the lights off, but the side door was slightly ajar. On the outside nothing was out of the ordinary.
Until he went inside the venue, where a gruesome sight awaited him-
The bodies of Watto and the rest of the gang, blindfolded with their hands tied behind their backs. They’d all been shot executioner style: quick, efficient, and brutal. This was Kenobi’s protection and threat. Anakin felt sick to his stomach. he’d had no love for Watto, but the other guys had been friendly to Anakin when he had first started working. If he accepted Kenobi’s offer, he had to remember he was ultimately disposable to him, but if he didn’t accept, he was broke. Kenobi might come after him anyway since Anakin knew too much.
Either way. he was so fucking screwed.