Dark Knights: The Sequel

Chapter 1: Birthday

Sweat beads on your dirty brow. Your tired, sweaty hand grips the small tool tightly as you work, another tool pinched between your teeth. Your back and legs are sore, and screaming from your prolonged, stiff position. You let out a loud huff. A familiar voice calls up to you from the shop floor.

"Hey! It's quittin' time!"

You moan in relief, then attempt to relax your muscles from the top of the ladder, wedged up to the wing of an old J-type star skiff. Returning your tools to your belt, you climb down with sweaty palms and tired legs. You hop down to the cold, smooth shop floor, coming face to face with your coworker, Janper. He looks as worn as you feel, his messy, curly brown hair falling around his face, smudges of dirt and dust all over his face and coveralls. You spare him a small smile and silently fall into step with his long stride as you head toward the stairs.

"Got any plans tonight? Or just the usual?" his tone innocent and friendly, though he frequently pokes fun at your lack of social life.

Oh, me? no, I'll just be fucking my long-distance boyfriend through a creepy, mystical soul connection. "Actually, I do have plans this evening, it's my son's birthday." You smile as you hear Kuruk's laugh echo through your mind.

Janper perks up as he gestures you to go first up the narrow metal stairs that lead toward the offices. "Deneb, right? How old is he turning?"

Your smile turns proud. "Yeah, he's four today. I'm going to pick up some of that famous Corellian fried ice cream for him and his friends."

You step into the locker room, unbuttoning your grey coveralls as you walk up to your locker. You peel the thick fabric off your sweaty body, revealing your skintight clothes underneath- black tank and thin black pants, stained with sweat. You step out of your work boots and replace them with light weight ones- also black. Then you shrug on your black leather jacket, the pocket weighed down by a thick black knife that never leaves your side. You shake your hair out of its tight updo and pull it back in a loose ponytail.

Your tired feet carry you to the adjacent break room where you wipe your face and hands, and grab your food container from the refrigeration unit, and let some cool water ease your dry throat. you lean back against the counter, mentally shucking off stress before you leave to go home. Janper chugs a large water flask, water dripping down his chin. Heavy boots stomp loudly into the breakroom, followed by loud, heavy breathing. A booming voice accosts your ears.

"Hey, you two, how's the skiff going? I got another call from the client this afternoon." Your boss, Rhodey, a tall and incredibly fat man, riffles his sausage-like fingers through his short grey hair.

You roll your eyes, "Let me guess: Mr. June asked about the cannons again..."

Rhodey laughs deep in his gut. "Funny enough, he did."

"Gods! I've told him a hundred times the cannons he wants are illegal! No one is allowed to have that kind of firepower except military vessels." Your annoyance starts to bubble up in your gut. "You should tell him to take all four of his Besalisk arms and shove them straight up his hairy-"

Janper interrupts, "actually, we're right on schedule! We'll be finished with the exterior mods tomorrow," he glances as you for confirmation, "then we'll start in the cockpit and work our way out for the interior."

Rhodey claps him on the shoulder, making Janper's knees buckle a little, but he looks at you. "I can always count on you two to deliver. You make a good team."

Your chest swells a little. It didn't take much to win Rhodey over when you started this job. He could see your skill right away, something you greatly appreciate about the man- he doesn't let the bullshit get in the way of work. You didn't even start on the lower end speeders, like the other mechanic that was hired with you. He put you straight to work on the high-end yachts and cruisers.