Chapter Text
Your sixty-sixth brush with death occurs on the highway — just like so many of the prior sixty-five. As you see the vehicle in front of you slam on its brakes to avoid the deer, you raise your hand instinctively, mentally urging the young creature to run as fast as its little legs can carry it. A familiar feeling of something courses through you, a subtle sort of peace as everything slows, and you watch the cars avoid colliding with one another and the deer race to safety. Your peripheral vision catches sight of the truck headed for your rear end, and you have time for one single thought before the world goes dark. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.
“Are you alright?” An oddly familiar voice filters through your consciousness as you struggle to open your eyes.
When you finally do, you freeze, staring in shock at the familiar, handsome face — oblong with a cleft chin and blue eyes — bending over you and the sudden realization that the arms currently cradling you probably belong to the owner of said face. Anakin Skywalker.
You swallow, finding yourself torn between fear and desire, followed by the sudden realization this is probably just another cosplayer, and remind yourself not to be weird. You empty your mind, pushing your feelings back behind a wall, and focus on the mantra you learned from one of your favorite fantasy writers. One white stone. You focus on the rock, examining it in your mind’s eye while your brain races for an answer. Am I okay? Did I die in the car crash? Am I in a coma somewhere? What is going on?
After a moment, you finally realize the Anakin cosplayer is still holding you in his russet-clad-arms while he waits for an answer, his Padawan braid dangling. “I don’t know,” you admit.
“We’ll take you back to Coruscant with us and have the Temple Healers check you over, Knight…?” a second voice, almost as familiar as the first, responds to you.
Mentally, you cringe with embarrassment. If this is Anakin, then that must be… Kenobi. I must have been found by other nerds. But why did he address me as a Knight? Belatedly, your brain reminds you that when you left Atlanta headed for home this morning, you opted for your Jedi robes as they make more comfortable traveling clothes than the cute outfit you had initially chosen to wear. Though, given the circumstances, you feel grateful you aren’t wearing your stained-glass-patterned droids skirt with your Anakin t-shirt as you had originally planned. But now, apparently, you are being addressed as a Jedi. Apparently, some people are still mentally at con.
The bearded cosplayer with the copper mullet and beige robes — whom you have mentally dubbed Kenobi — clears his throat, reminding you you still haven’t answered him.
The part of your brain that has been immersed in fandom for the last five days decides to just play along, so you give him your cosplay name, the one you’ve used to roleplay as a Jedi for over half of your life. “Jedi Knight Indra Bari.”
“Can you stand, Knight Bari?” Kenobi asks
“I would like to try.” You struggle to keep the embarrassment from your voice, focusing on the stone and your breathing to stay calm.
Anakin lowers you to the ground carefully, and you stand, your legs still shaking. You notice he keeps his hand near your back as if he is afraid you might fall. These guys are really committed to the characters, you can’t help but think.
“My Padawan can assist you to our ship, Knight Bari,” Kenobi gestures as he leads the way. “Though there is some question of where yours is.”
A mental replay of the truck bearing down upon your vehicle flashes across the surface of your mind. “Destroyed, I imagine.”
“What happened?” Anakin asks, still walking beside you, his arm outstretched, no doubt to catch you.
You wince mentally, thoroughly embarrassed by your current instability. “There was an animal and other vehicles, and someone hit me, I think.”
“Sounds like you may have taken a blow to the head, Knight Bari.” Kenobi frowns at you over his shoulder. “Do you have a Padawan or anyone we should contact?”
“No. I was alone.” Stupidly, you think. Who drives back from DragonCon alone? The same laserbrain who hit her head so hard she doesn’t even know where she is. At least you hope that’s what’s happening. Perhaps later, you will have the space to figure it out. Right now, you feel too overwhelmed by the noise and all the sights and sounds and smells, none of which seem the least bit familiar to your aching brain. Where the kriff am I?
“Who was your Master?” Kenobi’s voice sounds like it is coming from the end of a long tunnel.
You wonder what you should say to him. Normally, you’re much better at being in character, but it’s becoming harder to think around the pounding in your head.
Beside you, Anakin reaches out to steady you, his voice sounding even further away than Kenobi’s. “Don’t harass the poor lady with excessive questions, Master. You said yourself, she probably has a head injury.”
The world around you begins to swim, colors and sounds swirling in a nauseous mix as you feel yourself start to fall. Rapidly descending into darkness, the last thing your awareness registers is the sensation of Anakin’s arms catching you.
The second time you open your eyes, you see a sterile, white ceiling stretching above your head and breathe a sigh of relief. You seem to be in the hospital. Thank the Force for my fellow nerds, you think.
Before your brain can register the lack of normal hospital noises, Kenobi’s familiar voice interrupts your train of thought. “I see you are awake.”
I can’t believe they stayed with me, you think as you sigh and stretch, sitting up slowly. “I am.”
As if by command, a kind-faced woman in Jedi robes enters the room, a smile on her face. “Hello, I am Healer Syva. I’m afraid we don’t have access to your personal medical records yet but you appear to be perfectly healthy for a human female of about twenty cycles. Your cranial scans appeared normal. You were dehydrated and had overextended your Force abilities though, so I’ve given you fluids. Be sure to get plenty of rest. You need at least a standard galactic month of rest to recover. Come back and see me in two rotations.” Healer Syva smiles again and exits the room, leaving you with Kenobi.
Meanwhile, your brain still struggles to wrap itself around your situation. Twenty? Force abilities? They must have driven me back to the con, you decide, though you have to admit the elaborate setup has you confused. This seems a bit much, even for DragonCon.
They’re both still with me, you realize belatedly as the cosplayer you’ve taken to calling Anakin clears his throat.
Kenobi looks up guiltily as though he has been lost in thought. “The Council has requested your presence. They wish to ask you some questions.”
Of course, you smile to yourself, feeling comforted. This is just some elaborate Star Wars meetup group who found me on the side of the road and took care of me because that’s just how we do in the nerd community, you rationalize. At least your headache is gone.
Continuing to smile, you decide to play along. “Lead the way, Master Kenobi.”
“Oh, I am not a Master yet, but thank you, my lady.” Kenobi flashes you one of his million-dollar smiles, and you shake your head, reminding yourself it’s just a character. This guy isn’t actually flirting with you. Is he?
Right on cue, Anakin rolls his eyes.
You have to admit, these two really play well off each other; they seem to share the same chemistry as the original actors. Part of your brain wonders if perhaps this is one of those cases where the celebrities in question have shown up to cosplay as their own characters but then decide that’s completely ridiculous. These two are probably just members of the 501st; that would explain their screen-accurate costumes as well as their dedication to their roles.
Anakin and Obi-Wan lead you through a labyrinthine building from one end to another and up several floors. The further you travel, the more your brain begins to pick apart the whole scene, wondering what the hell is going on. None of the host hotels are this large, you notice. Nor has there been any carpet. I suppose we could be in the underground, but why haven’t I seen a single hotel employee? Surely, there should be some event security somewhere. Instead, all you see are more Star Wars cosplayers. And even more suspiciously, every single cosplayer is dressed as a Jedi. No Sith. No bounty hunters. No Mandalorians. No mashups. Just Jedi. Almost as if you were, in fact, in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant during the late Republic Era. Even the elevator looks more like a turbolift; the buttons are labeled in Aurebesh.
By the time you approach a set of all-too-familiar-looking doors, you’ve begun to admit to yourself the set details seem a little too expansive and realistic for a simple Star Wars meetup. This whole experience feels more like that time you went to Galaxy’s Edge and spent hours in line meandering through the tunnels waiting for one of the more popular rides than it does something fan-made.
If the walls, findings, and lighting fixtures around you were not already enough to make you wonder what is really going on, the makeup jobs on the Council members certainly are. Everything around you looks a little too screen-accurate for comfort, causing some small part of your brain to begin completely freaking out. What if this isn’t a meetup? What if these aren’t cosplayers? That’s insane. This can’t be real. It has to be some sort of prank. Or a reality show. Eventually, someone will pull back a curtain and reveal I’ve been had, you rationalize. Maybe the Mouse is testing an all-new, immersive roleplaying experience. This quietens the small voice in your head that has been cataloging all the little details around you. Or it silences it for a little while, at least.
“Kenobi, Skywalker, good to see you, it is.” A Yoda greets you, his vocal mimicry utterly flawless, and you can’t decide if it’s someone in costume or an animatronic. “Curious to hear about what you found on Ansion, we are.”
Ansion, you think to yourself. Meaning this … game, or whatever it is, is at the very beginning of Episode Two. Palpatine has just suggested Kenobi for Padmé’s bodyguard duty.
“You, no doubt, have already read my official report, Master Yoda.” Kenobi addresses the council calmly, arms folded into his sleeves.
You marvel at his body language, at all of their body language, really. Every one of them seems to be doing a stellar job. Too good of a job, the small voice insists.
You find yourself sandwiched between Kenobi on your right and Anakin on your left as though they have been instructed to guard you.
“Referring to your rescue mission, I was,” Master Yoda clarifies.
You take a deep breath, cycling the air through your lower belly in a calming square as you prepare to act out your part. You know, just in case this is the world's weirdest casting call.
“Anakin and I were headed out to the spaceport when Knight Bari appeared in front of us, falling out of the sky. My Padawan caught her before she hit the ground, but she initially appeared to be unconscious and exhibiting signs of a head injury.”
“Thank you, Kenobi.” The best Mace Windu cosplayer you’ve ever seen shifts his gaze to Anakin. “And you, Skywalker?”
Anakin shrugs. “It’s just like Obi-Wan said. We were walking to the spaceport when Knight Bari fell out of the sky, and I caught her.”
“Know to catch her, how did you?” Yoda asks.
Anakin pauses, appearing to think for a moment. “I felt her. There was a ripple in the Force, and I looked up to see a woman in Jedi robes falling out of the sky.”
Master Windu nods. “And how did you determine her to be a Jedi Knight?”
Anakin looks at Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan frowns. “I felt her in the Force as well, Masters. When she first awoke, she used a Jedi technique to calm her mind.”
You bite back surprise, counting your breaths.
“Just as she does now,” Master Windu observes. “Tell us, young lady, who are you?”
How do they know what I’m doing, you wonder, staring at them all as the quiet voice finds a megaphone and begins screaming that something is very wrong.
“Jedi Knight Indra Bari,” you answer in character. There’s no way you’re giving these guys your legal name. There’s no telling who they are and what they’re up to.
“Trained every youngling who has passed through this Temple for the last few hundred years, have I,” Master Yoda says, focusing on you. “Remember you, I do not.”
“Who trained you?” Master Windu narrows his eyes.
Something about their body language makes you feel slightly uncomfortable. They’re taking this a little too seriously, and it’s starting to freak you out. “I have been trained by many masters.”
“Such as?” Master Billaba asks.
“Master Lee and Master Barnes,” you say, listing two of the many martial arts masters you’ve studied under.
“Why do we have no record of you?” Master Shaak Ti asks.
You aren’t sure if you want to laugh or cry so you focus on your breathing instead. Because I’m not a member of your club, and if this is the way you go around recruiting people, I don’t wanna join, you think. What you say instead is, “Because I’m not from around here.”
“Where are you from?” Master Plo Koon asks.
“Earth.” You smile, unwilling to break character for safety reasons. You know, just in case this is something more sinister than a casting call.
“How did you come to be on Ansion?” Master Windu continues to stare at you.
“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. “One moment, I was piloting home, and then a deer leapt in front of the vehicle before mine.”
“A deer?” Master Shaak Ti asks.
“A quadrupedal herbivore native to my planet,” you explain, rolling your eyes. Why is everyone so deep in character, you wonder.
“What happened next?” Master Plo Koon asks.
“I reached out,” you extend your palm, echoing your earlier gesture, “and urged it to jump free of traffic. I sort of pushed the other vehicles to slow them down.”
“And then what?” Master Billaba prompts.
“There was another, larger vehicle behind me. I couldn’t stop it. The last thing I remember thinking was, ‘I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.”
“And?” You have to admit that the Windu cosplayer is uncannily accurate with his facial expressions.
“Anakin… err, Padawan Skywalker was asking me if I was alright,” you recall, trying not to blush in response to the memory.
“Tested you for Midichlorians, have we,” Yoda says, his tone somewhat gentler though no less suspicious than Windu's. “Force-sensitive you are. Dressed as a Jedi, you are. But know you, we do not. A mystery are you.”
“We have no proof or record of your existence prior to today, Knight. How do we know you aren’t a Sith?” Windu finally asks.
You bite the inside of your lip, considering how you want to play this. Usually you try to model your Jedi after Bruce Lee, but something about their accusations is setting you on edge. What kind of fan club grabs other cosplayers from the scene of a car accident and then drags them before an inquest? A significant part of you considers using verbal violence but then decides otherwise. You want me to prove I’m a Jedi? Then I will. Watch me. “How do you know anyone is not a Sith, Master Windu?”
“Excuse me?” Master Windu looks taken aback by your question.
“How do you know who is and who is not a Sith, Master Windu?” You repeat your question. “Anyone could be a Sith Lord, such as a former member of this Council, a future member of this council, or even yourself. How does the Order prove who is and who isn’t a Sith Lord? Short of using a red lightsaber or using one of the forbidden Force skills, how do you identify a Sith?” You smile inwardly, calmly awaiting their answers. If this is some sort of geekier-than-thou test of who knows their Star Wars lore, you intend to win it. Maybe that’s it, you suggest to the small voice. Maybe this is some sort of test to see who the biggest Star Wars fan of all time is.
“Suggesting a member of this council, a Sith Lord is, are you?” Master Yoda frowns, his expression too lifelike for an animatronic, and you find yourself wondering who the genius artist behind his makeup is.
“Not exactly, Master Yoda.” You smile, reminding yourself you know more about these characters and the lore than most people do. “But I find it curious that the one member of this council who practices Vaapad, experiments with the Dark Side, and has read the Books of the Sith is also the same one asking me if I’m a Sith Lord. Especially when the current Sith Apprentice is a former Jedi. One might argue that being a member of the Jedi Council is a trait shared by quite a few famous Sith Lords.”
“Know these things, how do you?” asks Master Yoda.
Feeling cheeky at obviously out-nerding them, you grin and pull the Han Solo shrug. “What can I say? I’m a student of the Force.”
“What you can say,” Master Windu says, “is who the current Sith Apprentice is.”
Something about the seriousness in his tone chills you. Damn, this guy is good. I wonder if he’s a character actor. “Darth Tyranus. Though since Anakin and Obi-Wan are fresh from Ansion, that means Darth Maul is still alive, hiding out from Darth Sidious on Lotho Minor,” you add, just in case this is a trick question.
“Know the identity of Darth Sidious, do you?” Master Yoda asks.
Frowning, the little voice asks you why none of these people have broken character even once. You’re tired of arguing with it. This immersive roleplaying experience hasn’t been nearly as fun as you would have said it would be prior to today. “Of course I do. Every fan does.”
“Fan?” Master Depa Billaba asks. “Of what?”
Sighing, you roll your eyes. “Sorry, I broke character. Y’all win.”
“Win what?” The cosplayer for Plo Koon also had a fantastic makeup artist. You find yourself wondering if it was the same person.
“Whatever weird game this is,” you say with a smile. “The sets are amazing, your acting skills are phenomenal, and I’ve had fun roleplaying with you. But it’s been an exhausting five days and I’m about all peopled out. So if you’ll point me to an exit and tell me where my car is, I’m ready to go home.”
Despite saying what you had imagined to be the safe words and clearly revoking your consent to continue whatever this intense LARP is, no one breaks character. No one yells cut, no one pulls back a curtain to reveal an exit door. Suddenly, you realize the words of the small voice have accumulated into a mountain of evidence beneath your feet. Panicking, you reach into your utility pouch, pulling out your cell and unlocking it only to realize wherever you are, your phone doesn’t have any signal. Something is horribly wrong, so wrong you swear a chasm is opening up beneath you and swallowing you whole, the darkness overtaking the edges of your vision as the overlapping voices of the Council cry out and you fall for what feels like forever, no longer even aware of the arms that catch you.