Chapter Text
To be out in this weather, you’d have to be mad or desperate, Obi-wan decides, and unfortunately, he could be considered the latter. Luckily, his coat has been charmed to repel water, but even then, the torrential downpour leaves him cold and wet. Well, at least Ahsoka is enjoying this weather, he reflects.
But, he does what he must, and Quinlan has been deep cover for years. If he decided to risk being found out this late in the operation, he must have found something urgent. Though, Obi-wan does wish the biggest storm of the season had decided to wait a few hours to blow through Coruscant.
Obi-wan reaches an intersection fairly close to where the meet-up is to happen. With the powerful wind and rain, Obi-wan finds it unlikely that he has picked up any tails, but he’s also not willing to risk leading anyone to Quinlan, so with a quick flick of his wrist, he pulls an illusion of his surroundings around himself, while simultaneously forming a copy of himself down the opposite branch of the intersection that he is going. Obi-wan has always had a gift for illusions, from the glamour he wears on an everyday basis to the more complex, sometimes malevolent ones that his father’s family favors, but with the sheer amount of factors he has to account for, he is very glad the storm is making visibility so bad.
Coruscant’s streets are rarely empty, and Obi-wan’s deserted surroundings are putting him on edge. It is not just the storm that makes him sigh in relief when he gets to the abandoned warehouse Quinlan detailed to him.
Coruscant has always had a large industrial presence, and a few years ago, the commercial guilds decided that they needed more storage and lobbied the city council to get the proper building permits. Now, they lay abandoned due to Coruscant’s ever expanding population ensuring that there are no surplus goods. Though, Obi-wan is positive that the different cartels are more than happy to put these warehouses to good use.
Obi-wan steps inside the warehouse and lets his illusion drop. He sighs in relief when Quinlan saunters out of the shadows. “Vos,” Obi-wan greets, “it’s good to see you in one piece.”
“Obi-wan,” Quinlan returns, “You look terrible.”
Obi-wan scoffs, but moves in to clasp Quinlan in a brief hug. “You know you like how I look, Quin.”
Humming, Quinlan wobbles his hand back and forth. “It depends,” he says. Then, softer, he says “I’ve missed you.”
Obi-wan smiles sadly. “I’ve missed you too, old friend. Unfortunately, I doubt you came here on a social call, and unless you’re here to call for a full extraction, you have limited time.”
“Yeah,” Quinlan agrees, “I’m not ready to be extracted, but I did need to get this,” he pulls an old, leather-bound book out of his coat, “out of their hands.”
Obi-wan squints at it as Quinlan passes it over, a feeling of dread pulling at his gut. He pauses, eyes narrowing, and realizes that his premonition was more of a vague future sense, and not a sign of an impending attack like it usually is. This is bad.
Obi-wan sees old fey runes embossed on the cover, his mind racing to translate. The dialect is very old, and for a race of immortals, old tends to be longer than it is for mortals. His eyes widen as he realizes. “Shit,” Obi-wan exhales harshly, “Vitiate’s book?”
Quinlan nods as a worried frown crosses his face for a moment, before returning to his normal relaxed state.
“Well,” Obi-wan states dryly as he tucks the tome into his coat, “we don’t want another person draining the life forces of entire nations again. I’ll ensure this gets to the council.”
Quinlan winces. “Actually, Obi-wan, I suspect they have someone high up in the government. I was thinking you should hold on to it. Your wards are already as strong as the safes the council uses for forbidden artifacts, it will be better for it to stay with you.”
“Huh,” Obi-wan blinks. “That’s not… great. This cult of your’s is definitely more powerful than we thought. I’ll keep it, don’t worry.”
Quinlan sighs. “Thank you. I know what you’re risking to keep it.”
Obi-wan snorts. “It’s hilarious that after what you’ve told me, you think I would just hand it over to our very corrupt national government.”
Quinlan blinks slowly, confused. “I thought the regulations on magical artifacts were the magic council’s jurisdiction? I was just handing it off to make sure no loose lips fucked us.”
“You’d think,” Obi-wan agrees, “but we’re losing more and more autonomy everyday. Soon enough, with the way Coruscant’s chancellor is collecting power, we’re going to be nothing more than a figurehead and every magical being in a country that follows the magic council is going to have to follow Coruscant laws.”
“Shit,” Quinlan whispers, “that’s a problem.”
“We know,” Obi-wan responds dryly, “Mace is doing all he can to combat Palpatine’s growing power, but there’s not much we can do without the city’s support.”
Quinlan sighs. “Listen, Obi, I have to go, but if you need me, you know how to contact me.”
Obi-wan frowns, but nods anyway. He knows how dangerous it is for Quinlan to offer that, but he is also painfully aware that Quinlan meant it. “Stay safe,” he calls as Quinlan leaves from a window.
Quinlan’s grin was wild, reminiscent of how he would smile in their youth when he would drag Obi-wan into trouble. “I always do.”
“Liar,” Obi-wan scoffs quietly to himself as he watches Quinlan’s departing figure. He shakes his head ruefully as he turns to leave, pulling camouflage around himself once more. Obi-wan can feel the danger that surrounds Quinlan as his mission continues, but he knows he has to trust Quinlan.
Heaving a sigh, Obi-wan walks into the storm once more.
---
Jango takes in the small but tidy storefront in front of him. “You sure this is the right place?” He turns to look at his brother, who smiles sharply.
“Trust me,” Alpha-17 says, “It’s bigger on the inside.”
Quirking a brow, Jango decides to take his word for it. It would not be the first time Alpha-17 was right about something like this, but that is his job after all. As one of Mandalore’s elite special operatives, he gave up his name and clan for the duration of his service, but Jango would and has trusted his brother with his life. “Might as well get out of this rain,” Jango says as he walks into the store with Alpha-17 following closely behind him.
A small bell jingles as the door opens, and an expansive store stretches out in front of Jango. Charms of all sorts and common and rare ingredients alike line shelves and there’s a set of double doors behind the cash register that promise even more room that does not belong in a building of this size. A teenager with dark skin and white and blue striped braids eyes them with poorly disguised amusement.
Jango whistles, impressed by the expansion and extra-dimensional charms despite himself. “Please take off your coats at the front,” the teenager calls out, “a lot of this stuff isn’t waterproof.”
Once they have shed their coats and approached the counter, the teenager, who’s name tag reads Ahsoka, looks at them appraisingly. “So what’s so urgent that you’re here in this weather?”
“I’m here to talk to the owner, Obi-wan Kenobi, is he in?” Jango answers.
“Nah sorry,” she says, glancing out of the window, “but he should be back soon if you want to wait?”
Jango inhales deeply, catching the scent of an air spirit, which explains Ahsoka’s restlessness right now, with a storm going on. “Sure.”
Jango and Alpha-17 wander around the store for a good half hour, before the bell jingles again and a red-headed man walks through. From his brother’s reaction, Jango assumes that this is Kenobi.
Jango runs an evaluating eye over Kenobi. Despite the fact that it was pouring outside, the only thing wet on him is his hair and face, which still gives him a rather drowned cat look. Sharp grey eyes meet Jango’s, before he grins, sharp canines which give away his non-human ancestry glinting in the light.
“Welcome to my humble shop. It’s an honor to host the Manda’lor,” he says while hanging up his coat.
Jango knows fey when he sees them, and Alpha-17 confirmed that this one was only half, but Kenobi is probably more dangerous than most full-blooded fey. It’s a good thing Jango is just as dangerous.
Jango smiles, more of a show of teeth than anything, and meets Kenobi’s eyes. “Obi-wan Kenobi, I presume?”