Yeah... sorry in advance for the brain damage. This was just random weirdness that I wrote in August '07. Thought I'd share it. And, uh, Revile is a combo of "Revan" and "Exile." Lame, I know... especially since revile means to insult somebody. Lemme get the dictionary definition... "To assail with contemptuous or opprobrious language; address or speak of abusively." Yeah. Mine was a lame combination. XD Oh well. Read and review, if you please!

PS: Manderous is a combo of Mandalore and Canderous. But you knew that, right? XD

A Tale of Two Cuties

Once upon a time, there were two incredibly handsome brown-haired hunks, both with incredibly hawt jackets. Their names . . . were Carth and Atton. But you already know their stories, right? Right?? At least, I should hope you do. If you don't by now, then you need to stop whatever you're doing, back up ten feet, and get help. Moving on, I will tell you MY story―err, ours.

My name is Revile. Don't laugh at my name; shoot my parents instead. You might say I have a bit of a . . . unique . . . life. Not only do I have chronic memory loss (a result of a tragic accident that occurred when I was six years old and attempting to build my first treehouse, I believe. I recall whacking myself over the back of the head with a hammer.), but I've been known to wander all the back roads and side streets of the world without ever being seen. But anyway, let's move on to the story, shall we?

It all began on a beautiful spring day when I decided to wear my hair differently. Usually, I wear it up in a ponytail, but this time I just haaaaad to let it down. Carth noticed it first that afternoon as I roamed the streets of the wonderful city of Biobsidiland. It's really a nice place once you look past the few little wretched hives of scum and villainy that dot the landscape. It's a lovely city, filled with exotic trees and plants, and its streets are filled with swoop bikes, rontos, and banthas . . . and gizka. LOTS of gizka. Gizka everywhere! Don't even get me started on them . . . But they have nothing to do with the tale, for now, and I am getting off the subject.

Anyway, Carth noticed my new hairstyle as I wandered the urban, gizka-infested (shudders) streets of Biobsidiland. (Did I mention he was wearing that hawt orange jacket of his? Did I have to? I thought it was a given.) And he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close and nuzzling my hair just gently enough to make me smile.

(Okay, folks, that was the part at which you hurl chunks because of the Hallmark-ish sappiness. Ready? And . . . heave! Long pause. Crickets chirp nearby. Rats.)

"Rev," Carth said. "Your hair is beautiful today."

"Why, thank you, Carth," I grinned as he gave me a light kiss on the cheek. "I'm glad you noticed."

"I'll notice anything if only to make you smile, Beautiful."

(Audience gags. No, no, NO! Wrong time! You were supposed to heave when he nuzzled my hair! sigh Can't you people do anything right?!)

Our conversation ended with that, even though I know he had "You, me, Ebon Hawk's cargo hold, now" on the brain. But it was drawing near to lunch, and the Jekk'Jekk Tarr down the street was having tacos on special! Yummy. I LURVE tacos! Ahem So I went to lunch in my handy-dandy, travel-size envirosuit.

When I came out of the Double J Single T (as all the "cool" folks call it), there he was, right outside the door: Atton. Atton Rand. Cardplayer, gambler . . . scoundrel (cue dreamy sigh from Fangirls) . . . You'd like him. (Fangirls: "But we dooooo! Oohh, Attooonnn!! 333333!")

Ahem. Well, it just so happened that he was standing outside the JJT, shuffling a deck of pazaak cards as he does every hour on the hour. I swear, it's all he ever does! As I walked up, still wearing that stupid envirosuit (I don't get it; the one place in town with good tacos, and the air is poisonous!), he flashed me his trademark cocky grin. (Fangirls: "Ohhh!! Squee! faint)

"Hey, Zile!" he said, waving. (He calls me "Zile." Don't know why, but I wish he'd stop! glares) He held the cards out to me. "Pazaak?"

"No thanks," I answered as I began to tug off my envirosuit.

Either it was the sight of me in my underwear or he was in a rather chirpy mood that day, but I had barely gotten my tunic and jeans back on before he ran over and leaned in to kiss me. (Fangirls: "Ooh, you luuucky giiiirl!") I was gonna let him, too, but then he suddenly stopped.

"Hey . . ." he said. "You changed your hair!" (Well, duh.)

"You like it?" I asked, patting my locks flirtatiously.

"Sure do," he answered with a grin, leaning in to bury his cold (but not wet!) nose up my against my neck. "It smells like strawberries. Nice touch."

He was going to kiss me again when suddenly . . .


We jumped nearly a mile into the air and spun around. It was Carth coming back to see me, and he was madder than a wet hen at seeing Atton practically sucking on my neck. Quite honestly, I think the opportune word there was "livid." Atton grinned smugly as Carth strode up to him.

"Get. Your. Hands. Off. My. GIRLFRIEND!!" Carth snarled.

"And if I don't?" Atton smirked.

"I'll hit you so hard, it'll make your ancestors dizzy!"

"I'd love to see you try, Onasi."

Carth stepped forward, fists clenched. He would have really punched Atton if I hadn't gotten in between them.

"Easy, boys," I said, one hand on Carth's chest and the other on Atton's. "No need to get violent."

They didn't hear me, because Carth started screaming like a banshee, and Atton wasn't helping matters by refusing to stand down. With each passing moment, their shouts got louder and louder (and my cheeks got redder and redder) until every inhabitant of Biobsidiland gathered around the scene . . . and I mean everyone. I was absolutely mortified because Atton and Carth were publicly fighting over lil' ol' me! They reeeeally should have taken it out behind the Jekk'Jekk Tarr and saved me a load of embarrassment!

Glancing around, I observed the expressions of the gathered crowd. Bastila's was as I expected. She had her face in her hands and was shaking her head in embarrassment, but Manderous and HK-47 (those big bloodthirsty lugs) were cheering because there was the possibility of fresh blood splattered on the sidewalk! Scumbags . . . Anyway, I realized then that I had to stop this madness (or at least get it out of the public's eye) before there was blood! And from the gaping expression on poor Mission's face, I had to act right quick. So I raced to the boys' sides, screaming like a madwoman for them to knock it off. As soon as they saw me coming, they turned and stuck me right between a rock and a hard place.

"Which one of us do you like better?" Atton asked, hands on his hips.

" . . . Uh?" I was startled a little bit by his sudden question, so I started stammering as I tried to give an answer. "Well . . . I don't know. I, uh, never really thought about it . . ."

"Pick me!" Carth cried suddenly, his brown eyes imploring.

"No, pick me!" Atton answered before turning on Carth like a kath hound on a fresh steak. "Besides, I saw her FIRST!"

"You did NOT!" Carth exclaimed, balling his hands into fists.

"Who CARES?!" Atton shouted.

"I care!"

"Oh yeah, old man?"




Getting fed up with their childish behavior, I stuck my little fingers in the corners of my mouth and whistled.

"Why don't you two settle this in a gentlemanly fashion?" I suggested.

Obviously, they hadn't seemed to think of that, as their dumbfounded expressions implied.

"You know, she's right?" Atton nodded. He fished his cards back out of his pocket. "And there's only one way to settle this: with pazaak!"

"PAZAAK?!" Carth scoffed. "Pfft. Like that's a proper way of showing anything."

"It is on Nar Shaddaa!"

"We ain't on Nar Shaddaa, son."

"Then how do you propose we settle this?" Atton asked, tucking his deck back into the safe confines of his jacket.

"In the old-fashioned, time-tested way: fist fight!"

"FIST FIGHT?! Pfft! I could beat you six ways to Sunday with one hand tied behind my back!"

"Yeah? Why don't you put your money where your mouth is?"

"All right, I will!"

With that, he pulled out a one-credit piece and promptly ate it. Carth and I exchanged a brief glance that questioned the poor boy's mental health.

"Oh, dear . . ." I whispered as I watched him choke down the credit.

"Hey, Republic!" Manderous yelled from the sidelines. "You might just win this little fight after all, if he's the best opponent you could scrounge up!"

"You're gonna regret that, pal," Atton growled, having successfully swallowed the coin. He rolled his sleeves up around his elbows and put his fists up right in Carth's face. "Fight me, coward!"

"Coward? Ho ho, I think the bull just grew horns!"

"You're making me mad, you . . . you you-you!"

I could see where this was going. They were headed for an out-'n'-out name-calling match. Well, if they were going to spend all day hurling insults instead of uppercuts, I could handle that. But then again, Carth has always had an easily woundable pride. Call him the wrong thing, and he runs crying for his mommy.

He didn't seem to care, however, as he rebounded from being called a "you-you" (whatever a "you-you" is) with an insult of his own.

"Well, you're a di'kut!"

"Ooh, Republic speaks Mandalorian!" Manderous said excitedly.

"Can it, Manderous!" both boys yelled.

Atton called the next name.



"Interjection: Meatbag!" HK-47 shouted, but no one heard him or even cared.

"Bantha brains!"



"HEY!" Mission squealed, her eyes wide. "That ain't nice!"

"Sorry," Atton muttered with a shrug.

"No, you're not!" Carth exclaimed.

"You're right!" Atton returned. "I'm not!"

And it happened. He threw the first punch. I gasped and covered my eyes, afraid of seeing blood. But there wasn't any. The poor guy didn't even knock Carth over! He himself staggered backwards, holding his now-sore fist.

"Ohh, owww!" he yelped.

Carth just smirked and threw a hard left jab, knocking Atton to the ground with a beauty of a black eye. I looked around to see who had let out that Indian war whoop and found that it was me and that Bastila was giving me one of her "evil-eye" glares.

I turned around quickly in time to see Carth straddling Atton whilst pounding him into the ground. Poor Atton was trying his darndest to fight back, but when you've got somebody weighing upwards of a hundred and seventy pounds sitting on your gut, that's a little easier said than done. He did manage to get in one good uppercut, which promptly knocked Carth over into the dirt. I squealed and covered my eyes as he leaped onto poor Carth and began pummeling. I squealed again, sticking my fingers into my ears to cover the pained yelps and angry grunts. Quickly, I raced over to HK-47, who still seemed excited that this fight was even happening in the first place.

"HK!" I cried, anxiously glancing back to the spectacle but looking away again when I thought I saw blood. "We've gotta stop them! They'll kill each other!"

HK looked down, his photoreceptors focusing on me. If he had been able, I'm sure he would have smirked evilly.

"Statement: The meatbags may be responsive to . . . alternative forms of persuasion, Master, if you are so intent upon bringing a boringly peaceful end to this perfectly delightful event."

It only took me a minute to figure out what he was insinuating.

"I am not gonna march up their loading ramps, if that's what you mean!" I gasped.

"Observation: Master, it would seem that was their intent for conduct with you . . ."

My eyes widened, and at that moment, I no longer felt sorry for either flyboy. Actually, I reeeeally wanted to run out there and punch them both into the middle of next week by myself! The nerve of those two! But yet, I couldn't help but wonder which one would have gotten me first . . . Ahem.

But the fight continued, and Manderous and HK cheered every time Carth got a hit in on Atton, or vice versa. The ruckus went on for at least another five minutes, during which Bao-Dur wandered up to see what everyone else was talking about. This was a bad idea on his part, because he called out to me with the words "Hey, General, can I talk to you for a minute?" No sooner had he said that, Carth and Atton laid off beating up on each other, promptly scrambled to their feet, and surrounded him, glaring at him. I've never felt so bad for a Zabrak before, but the look on his face while he was standing there getting holes bored through him by a pair of angry flyboys was absolutely pitiful.

"She is NOT a general!" Carth growled. "She runs the universe with her evil armada!"

"EVIL?!" I squeaked. "Hey, now . . ."

"Actually, she's a nomad," Atton contradicted, ignoring me. "But either way, she's no general."

"Uh, okay . . ." Bao-Dur stammered. "How about 'colonel,' then?"

Carth and Atton just kept glaring at him, their hands on their hips. Bao-Dur shrank away in slight fear.

". . . Corporal-captain?"

Carth and Atton decked him right then and there before spinning 'round and decking each other, thus getting the party started back up again. I couldn't believe they had just knocked out the best Iridonian tech in the entire vicinity of Biobsidiland! Poor Bao-Dur . . .

The next part of the fight didn't last too long, because Atton quickly found an opening and rolled away just in time to dodge getting another taste of Carth's fist. He quickly leaped to his feet, one hand shoved into one of his jacket's pockets. He wore a sneaky smirk on his face, and we all stood by waiting anxiously to see what he would do. Was he about to pull out a blaster and literally end this fight? Was he about to start chucking grenades every which-a-way? No one knew for sure. All I knew was that he kept his hand in his pocket, and that he was chuckling in sort of a sinister way.

"Oh, you thought you could take me, didn't you, Onasi?" he snickered. "Well, you have yet to be introduced to my sweethearts . . ."

His hand slowly emerged from his pocket, and we all stood stone still, barely breathing. A few seconds later, he flicked his wrist to reveal . . . a deck of pazaak cards! Everyone present gasped with terror. Even Carth stepped backwards in fear as Atton brazenly brandished his cards.

"Scared, eh?" he taunted, waving them in Carth's face. "Well, you should be, because you know what this means, don't you?"

Carth nodded slowly, gulping. Atton cackled maniacally (which was closely followed by a few phlegm-induced hacks and coughs) before opening the tiny case which protectively enclosed his cards. He had no sooner done that than he threw back his head and screeched.


The next second, pazaak cards started flying in every direction like dozens of tiny projectiles. Everybody who had gathered to watch the fight hit the dirt to avoid getting hit by one of Atton's evil little friends. People were screaming in terror, and even Carth wasn't looking so brave anymore. (Now you should know that when I said that, I meant to say that he was cowering behind my knees like a big pansy.)

It took me only a few tense moments to remember the only way of getting the unrelenting bombardment to end, and I charged off to Mission's side. I found her hiding behind T3-M4.

"Mish!" I cried above the din of frightened and scurrying people. "Get your troops!"

Her face instantly lit up, and she nodded once before racing off around a corner to her secret hideout. A few minutes later, she returned, wearing a whistle and lanyard around her neck. She stopped and turned toward the location of her hideout, blowing the whistle three short times.

"On, Dasher! On, Dancer! On, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen! And Rudolph . . . Move your butt, NOW!"

The next second, nine tiny gizka came bounding out from around the corner and stopped in a neat little row in front of Mission. I gave her a grin and a thumbs-up before cupping my hands around my mouth and calling to Atton.

"Oh, Atton . . ." I said, almost with a purr. His ears perked up instantly. (I swear that boy's a Golden Retriever.) "Did you think I forgot how to end your cruel misuse of a pazaak deck? Not today, hotshot. Behold . . . Gizka Squadron!"

He paled and gasped with fright when Mission whistled shrilly and her miniature army started hopping toward him. He began screaming at the top of his lungs, begging for mercy as the little beasts proceeded to bounce onto him and tackle him. That little handful of otherwise pesky gizka took him to the ground, which promptly ended his evil attempt at terrorizing the citizens of Biobsidiland and his underhanded scheme to get out of fighting Carth.

Everything suddenly fell silent, but only for a moment. Carth immediately took advantage of the fact that his adversary had nine gizka sitting on him and licking him to death. He gathered up his energy and charged, leaping into the air and landing smack-dab on top of Atton. Ow . . . But have no fear: he did not squash one single gizka. Unfortunately. He merely took to flattening Atton's nose against the poor boy's skull again. He kept hitting him with all his might for what seemed like eons before along came another little interruption: an information-seeking Bothan.

"Excuse me," he squeaked. (Dang, those things are adorable!)

No one heard them, and the fight continued.

"Excuse me!" he squeaked, more persistently.

The fight paused, with Carth and Atton frozen in mid-punch.

"How do I reach the All-Powerful Lucas?" the Bothan asked meekly and pointing to a small manila envelope that was sticking out of his back pocket. "I have his yearly earnings report. Many of us died to bring him this information."

Atton and Carth answered simultaneously, still frozen in mid-punch. Carth lifted one hand and pointed toward a shimmering gold temple not too far from Biobsidiland's main plaza.

"Through the doors, up the stairs, and to the right. Just follow the signs."

"Thank you very much!" the Bothan squeaked gratefully.

He scurried off, and the fight resumed. Both boys continued to roll around on the ground wrasslin' with all their might, but I could tell they were getting tired. Besides, Manderous and HK were getting bored with the repetitiveness of the fight, and both Carth and Atton had more than their shares of black eyes and bruised ribs. So, finally, to end the fight once and for all, I ran over and pulled them both to their feet. Then I kissed them each with one of those goopy kisses you see on soap operas waaaay too often. Needless to say, my ploy worked. They quit beating up on each other and hushed their angry yells and instead just stood there like a couple of idiots, happily licking their lips as though they were babies with "binkies." I was perfectly satisfied with this outcome until Atton made my day rough again.

"HEY!" he shouted. "She gave you tongue!"

"She did not!" Carth shouted back.

sigh Oh, well. It was back to square one, but I didn't stick around to see it. I turned right around and headed home, rolling my eyes and telling myself to just forget the whole thing. I passed Jolee in the street and advised him to head to the scene armed with medpacs, and he rushed off to attend to the fools. Just as I reached my front door, I had the sudden realization that I had a Hutt slave girl's dancing outfit hanging in the back of my closet. I decided that wearing that would end the argument, if only for a few hours, so I ran to find it and put it on. But when I arrived at my closet and dove into it to look for that skimpy little outfit, I discovered it missing! With a growl of frustration, I glanced out the window and realized that neither Bastila nor Manderous were at the fight anymore. Hmm . . . shifty eyes So, I just gave up. If Carth and Atton wanted to pound each other into the dirt from whence they came, then fine by me. It's not like either one would have had the energy to chase after me after that humdinger of a scrap, anyway.