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The night was young, but Kylo Ren was already drunk as a Sith Lord when he and his merry band of knights barged into the small establishment known as the “Needles to say.”
“Guys! Hey, guys! Let’s all get a tattoo of Supreme Leader Snoke” Twinklefeet had said moments earlier when getting out of the cantina.
At the time it certainly sounded like an excellent idea (a better idea than letting Merrydancer choose their codenames for the duration of this operation for sure), but now that he was facing the chair bolted in the middle of the room he felt a knot in his stomach. It strangely reminded him of the metal chair sitting in the interrogation room in the Finalizer.
Unless it was just the effect of the Knockback Nectar?
He kinda felt like he was about to vomit anytime soon after all, which would be not only nasty but also terribly embarrassing.
He made a mental note to himself to never drink that stuff again and to obliterate Jakku one day. Someone needed to protect the galaxy from this crap.
But first, he needed to ask Snoke if he knew a way to go back in time because he ought to kick his fifteen-year-old self for coming up with such an impractical helmet design.
Sure, at the time it was very wizard, but Kylo Ren was a grown up now. A grown up stuck with a bucket on his head, with virtually no peripheral vision.
“Anyone here?” he shouted.
“Coming!” a cheerful masculine voice responded back. “What can we do for you today folks?”
Kylo Ren looked at the two figures emerging from the back door. Rectification. The one figure emerging from the back door. It was a young man in his early twenties with a bright smile. Damn the guy looked suave and cool and brave. He hated him already.
“Are you not a tattoo parlor?” Kylo asked brusquely. “So what do you think we’re here for? A picnic?”
His pals cheered behind him. He was king of sass. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to have inherited some of the Solo genes after all.
“Rey! I think I’ve found the perfect customer for you!”
A girl appeared from behind the counter and suddenly Kylo Ren, master of the Knights of Ren was glad he was wearing his bucket with no peripheral vision because he didn’t want her to see his ears go red with embarrassment.
“Hi.” the girl said. She was wearing her hair in a very alternative fashion, in three buns.
“Rgjgdrthbj” he replied. (Obviously, he hadn’t inherited the most useful Solo genes.)
“You already know what you want?” she asked, cocking the loveliest eyebrow he’d seen lately (Not that he’d seen a lot of eyebrows with all these stormtroopers on Starkiller base when he thought about it).
“I was thinking of something dark, something that inspires fear in the heart of my enemies.”
She checked him out.
“Errr, sure. But you’re gonna have to crop that outfit if you want your enemies to see the damn thing. Are you certain you don’t want something more personal? Like a family heirloom or something.”
The girl was not only beautiful, but she also had a brain! Would it be appropriate to carry her bridal style aboard his ship for a first date?
“We have cool I LOVE MUM designs if you want.”
Okay, maybe not bridal style after all.
“Do you do portraits?” he asked, ogling at a series of original artworks on the wall.
“Yeah sure, we do.”
Kylo used the Force to summon his wallet from the depth of his pockets and blinked at the girl who was probably very impressed by the trick. Sith! He’d forgotten about the damn mask again.
“Can you do that?” he asked.
The beautiful girl named Rey tilted her head slightly and took a good look at him before announcing with a big grin on her face “Yeah sure, I can.”
Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, woke up the next morning with a massive headache and a raging boner. Nothing that a quick passage under the ‘fresher couldn’t get rid of he reckoned.
“Good morning grandfather” he announced to the mask displayed in the middle of his room.
“I don’t remember much, so the night must have been wild.” he added with a smile before something caught his eye in the mirror of his personal hygiene pod.
“What in the blazes is that?” He cried out, discovering the lovely face of an Ewok tattooed on his right butt cheek.
He summoned his wallet immediately. How? Why? What happened? He was sure he’d shown the pictures taken on Endor, the ones from that time he’d spent excavating granddaddy at summer camp. It was the best day of his life when they had finally discovered the charred remains of Darth Vader. He wanted to immortalize that moment.
He rolled his eyes.
For Pfassk sake! Does one Dark side user have to explain to look at the mask, not at the kriffing Ewoks?