#Penguin Writes: Wolffepack Against Child Abuse
Hello and Goodnight
Fandom(s): Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Star Wars (Prequel Trilogy)
Summery: Ahsoka wanted to see the meteor shower, and unexpected visitor shows up at the docs but he's not an unwelcome one. || AU of an AU— Wolffepack against Child Abuse x MerMay AU
Pairing(s): PloKit, Micah/Plo (Past)
Part 2/3 of the May the 4th fics I have planned. Is this the cursed one? Probably not.
It's also my MerMay bit, though It might not be the only one I do for MerMay, we shall see
Children, Plo Koon knew, were precious. From the moment he had held his baby sister— he had been six years old then— to his career as a teacher, and then as part of the Child Protective Services, to when he held his niece for the first time, to when he first started acting alone outside of the Protective Services…
Yes, children were very precious.
The first children that he had adopted had been when his best friend and first partner had still been alive and with them. They were the same age, though one had been eight when she had been brought into the family, the other seven.
Lissarkh had been the eight-year-old, and had survived in back alleyways, eating scraps from the ground and dumpsters, and had bitten him when he had lifted her up out of the one behind his and Micah’s apartment building. Now she was just older than Wolffe, her hair dyed green and working with Mace to uncover smuggling rings with the Courscant Police.
Or she would be, had she not decided to go back to school. And Plo was fine with covering the costs for both her and her sister.
Bultar Swan had been Plo’s— and Micah’s— very first child. She had been taken in a year before Plo rather unceremoniously found Lissarkh behind their apartment building.
Taken from abusive parents in the city of Kuat, Plo hadn’t the heart to allow the child to enter the Forster System and appealed to Micah then for help.
Ah, but that had been such a long time ago.
Micah had been shot and killed close to fifteen years ago. Bultar and Lissarkh had been twelve, and Lissarkh had only managed to have four years' worth of rather fuzzy memories with him.
Still, in grief and death, he didn’t stop his care of other children. When Bultar and Lissarkh were twelve, he had found Wolffe and his brothers.
And life continued from there.
Plo loved all his children. It was as simple as that.
And as the night continued on, and the embers of the fire began to die, he knew that. Children were precious, and he loved his children.
Plo gazed over the sleeping forms of Boost and Sinker, tangled with Nex and Nox, and Comet. Warthog, Ghost, and Wildfire sprawled in the grass nearby, and Ahsoka wedged between Wolffe and Tracer, with Bultar and Lissarkh nearby and a number of their other brothers and sisters laying in the grass around the once blazing bonfire.
Ahsoka wanted to watch the meteor shower that was due overhead rather soon. Somehow that had translated into inviting as many of the ‘Plo's bros’ from across Coruscant as possible and everyone having a cookout and bonfire in the fields by the docs.
Plo didn’t mind.
It was lively and rather amusing to watch Ahsoka and Maul gang up on Anakin and Obi-Wan. To meet Bultar and Lissarkh’s friends again, to see Sha again— though she didn’t live too far from Dorin, just on the edge of the city and no more than a three-hour ride to her apartment building.
It had been a good evening.
But now the children were all settled down to rest until they woke back up due to the numerous alarms set on various phones.
A splash down at the docks made him perk up a bit, folding his glasses back into their case and setting them on the picnic table. He stood, picking his way through the sleeping bodies and walking down to the docks.
Data and Cable (And Plo would never question the boys on the names they wished to choose for themselves) had a small boat that was docked there for when Data needed silence from the noise of the house, but that wasn’t what had alerted him and that's not what had splashed down there.
It didn’t take long to get there, nor did it require much effort to find the switch that turned on the lone lantern at the end of the dock, and a familiar form was leaning on the planks.
Had the figure been a normal human, Plo might’ve been concerned about why they were on the end of his dock, but they weren’t— he wasn’t.
Not with green skin, large, dark eyes, and tentacle-like tresses instead of hair. No, this one was not human, though he did walk around in a human skin sometimes. He was a Mer, simple as that, though very different in appearance than the mermaids so commonly seen in movies and fiction. Most all of them were.
Nonetheless, Plo chuckled as he walked down the dock towards the figure.
“Hello, Kit,” he greeted, sitting down and crossing his legs upon reaching the end. A grin full of razor-sharp teeth was flashed his way before melting into a quizzical look.
“No glasses tonight?”
He chuckled. “No,” he told the other, “The light isn’t as bright at night, so my eyes aren’t bothered.”
Kit seemed to ponder on it for a moment before accepting it, something Plo assumed he would, considering how he knew a number of other Mer from the depths of the sea who were also sensitive to light.
Kit had been showing up at Dorin’s docks for a few months now, ever since Wolffe had accidentally fished him up, really. And then, of course, Plo had connected the dots a few weeks later and had met Kit Fisto the Mer-Rights activist, Kit’s human guise.
It had been a good few months of friendship, and, later, a rather interesting romantic partnership.
And Plo rather enjoyed the time spent talking with Kit.
“So what brings you by here?” he asked and the green Mer just flicked his tail, a few drops of water splashing onto his cheek where the medical mask wasn’t covering it.
“Heard some noise when I was on my way back from Aayla’s bar and decided to pop in,” Kit hummed loftily, before be paused. “Foul's still missing, by the way, so if you hear anything make sure to pass it on to her so she can get it to us.”
Plo nodded slowly at the mention of the other two— while Aayla herself wasn’t a Mer, nor was Foul, the two were still targets for the Creatures Trade. A faerie and a yeti, far from their homes, and now Foul was missing.
“I will,” he assured the green-skinned Mer, who just grinned again.
“So, why are all of you and yours out this late?” he asked, leaning on his elbows as his tresses curled, flicking drops of water.
Plo hummed, glancing back at his sleeping children. “Ahsoka wanted to watch the Meteor Shower,” he told him simply.
The Mer clicked softly, chuckling before nodding. “Yes, a rather wonderful sight, even for us. If the waters are clear enough out in the open ocean, many of us head to the surface to watch when astronomical events such as this happen.”
“I think humans and non-humans can agree on that at least,” Plo chuckled softly as well, “I studied space in school a long time ago, and once wished to go, but ended up on a different path.”
Kit hummed, tail and tresses flicking as he listened. “You humans are so interesting, thinking about duties you want to do for the future, even if they don’t come to pass.”
“While you Mer live in the moment.”
The said Mer just laughed, head tossed back. “Of course,” he agreed. “Why worry over something that is uncertain, and fret over what is not there yet? The future might not come, so live as you do now and enjoy it. If you look too far to the future, you lose sight of what’s around you.”
Plo couldn’t help but smile under his mask. “Perhaps,” he agreed before the sharp sound of phone alarms going off rang out in the night. Kit made a face, shaking his head as grumbles and groans came from Plo’s children, most still half asleep in the grass.
He glanced back at them, seeing Wolffe shake the sleep from his head before lightly punching Boost and Sinker so they woke up.
Kit whistled to get his attention again and Plo turned back around as the green-skinned Mer pointed upwards. He tilted his head back, smiling again under his mask as Ahsoka let out a whoop behind him. The first of many silver streaks crossed the sky, bright and beautiful and Plo reached over to the lantern, clicking it off without a word.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Kit mused, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one at the surface. I was down near Muunilinst last time, all the way across the ocean. It’s rather bleak there, so I’m glad I’m down over here for this one.”
Plo hummed, watching the sky still as he nodded. “It is rather beautiful. I missed the last one. Feral had been extremely ill and the Nightbrothers were staying with us until he got better.”
There was silence for a moment before another splash sounded and Plo let out a slightly disgruntled noise as he was splashed, Kit hauling himself onto the dock.
He turned to gaze at the Mer, raising a brow, and Kit just grinned before leaning forwards. A single, clawed finger hooked on the edge of his mask, pulling it down and before Plo could say anything, Kit closed the distance between them.
It wasn’t a deep kiss, not like the first time Kit had kissed him out of nowhere, but it also wasn’t playful like the quick and teasing pecks the Mer had peppered across his face while he had been slightly tipsy at Aayla’s bar.
It was nice, either way though, as Kit pulled back. “Cute.”
Plo reached up, touching his cheeks before huffing a bit and pulling his mask back up to hide his flush.
“Hush, you,” he huffed again, smacking the Mer on the arm as he laughed. That just made Kit laugh harder, tresses curling and moving in that happy way they did when he was delighted.
Plo rolled his eyes, turning his head back up to the sky as more and more meteors crossed the wide expanse. Behind him, he could hear his children talking, words of awe and wonder drifting down to the docks.
“It really is beautiful,” he murmured as Kit rested his chin on his shoulder, tresses curling and draping across the other one.
“Just like you,” the Mer teased, an equally teasing croon leaving him, and Plo bit back a laugh. The compliment was sincere, but nonetheless.
“I will push you off this dock, Kit.”
And Kit just laughed, wrapping his arms around him as the stars continued on their paths over head.
Dorin is the name that belongs to Plo's farmhouse, Data and Cable show up briefly in some of my other work and Nex and Nox showed up in the previous WPACA installment. Ghost shows up like all the time in my works hagjkfjghd. Anyways, was this the cursed one? That's for you to decide. Happy May the 4th!
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sorry i just sent myself into the stratosphere thinking about the WACA Modern AU where the Bad Batch collectively just call Plo “Pops” when they see him.
excuse me and my horrible bad batch writing in the future
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A Much Needed Intervention
Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Star Wars (Prequel Trilogy)
Pair: My usual space gays (PloKit) (Kit doesn’t show up tho lmao)
Summary: Krell is confronted and Wolffe reminisces on his and his dad’s meeting. And it turns out that he's more like Plo than he thought.
Extra notes: Modern AU: Part of the Emergency Contact series (now tagged Wolffepack Against Child Abuse) || AO3
I totally got the idea for Katooni being part of the pack from YoungestThunderbird's Arcadia series, it's good, go read it!
The weather was nice that day, it was a wonderful day in the capital city of Coruscant, and Pong Krell was a horrible, horrible man.
But that wasn’t anything new. Everyone who had been part of the 'Pack for more than two days knew that.
Wolffe knew that and as he leaned against his bike, watching the fight in front of him, he knew it. As the sirens of the Coruscant Police Department sounded and the cars pulled up behind the wall of gray, black, and white bikes, he knew.
He only nodded slightly to Commander Cin Drallig as he and a handful of other officers pulled up to the house. Already, the ‘Pack had blocked off the exits off of the property with their bikes and bodies, and they stood like a wall in front of little Katooni with the Rancor Boys and Shaak Ti.
But none of them moved. Not when the muscular and overbearing figure of Pong Krell slammed the door open and stalked out. Not when he came toe to toe with Plo, snarling, and not when Plo ducked away from what would have been a painful and probably neck-cracking slap.
Face-offs between the abuser and those trying to help the child weren’t rare (Wolffe knew, he had seen the bruises Colt wore with pride from protecting Shaak Ti from hits, and he had seen the blood that dotted Plo's clothes when it was his turn to do the laundry), but usually, they were quelled once Plo got involved and threatened police action, and so on. But Krell had decided— when the ‘Pack rolled up and Katooni ran from the house and into Boost’s arms— that he wasn’t going to back down.
And, well, Wolffe knew their dad. Their Buir. He wasn’t going to back down either.
When Wolffe first met Plo Koon, he had been thirteen years old, living on the streets with an injured and infected eye.
He had two younger, twin brothers who were sick and dying and he had needed the money. When he had seen the man park his bike outside Dex’s, he had waited. When he saw him walk out with a pretty, dark-skinned lady, he had struck. He had been flat on his back in seconds, the man knocking the knife from his hand and the woman stepping out of the way.
Wolffe thought that it was it, that it was all over for him. But it wasn’t. The man had taken one look at him before calling the hospital.
Wolffe’s eye had to be removed, but that was fine. A glass eye made him look normal at least. The pretty woman had found his brothers and brought them in for treatment too, and that was that.
Costs were covered, there was an angry debate in hushed tones that went back and forth between the man and some officials, papers were signed, and then Wolffe found himself with a last name.
Plo Koon was the man’s name, and he had adopted him and his brothers within the week he had brought them to the hospital. The woman was Shaak Ti and she was not, in fact, the man’s partner like Wolffe had initially thought.
(No, he learned that Plo leaned towards the masculine presentation, and was quite fine without a partner. Wolffe later learned that the last part was bullshit because that surfer made him really happy now and maybe it was weird that Kit was just ten years older than he was, but Wolffe didn’t care. There was nothing normal about him and his family anyways.)
Still, Wolffe’s lips quirked upwards as he saw Plo duck under one of Krell’s angered swipes, even half-blind his Buir was impressive.
Half-blind because Plo's glasses had been knocked off of his face and crushed in the scuffle already, which had made them all bristle at first— An injury as a child had left Plo’s eyes very sensitive to light— but Plo was quick, kept one eye closed, and knew his way around a fight.
“Here to get involved or here to watch the fight?” he heard Colt ask Cin and the police Commander snorted, arms crossed.
“Whichever we need to do,” he said as his officers joined them all. Bene McCallum, a high school student who was some sort of intern (or maybe just liked to hang out at the station), Wolffe remembered, had her face screwed up in concentration as she watched while senior officer Serra Keto tilted her head, analyzing every move.
Krell made another move to hit Plo, but he skirted to the side.
Plo would not strike unless he needed to, careful to keep his end of the fight to evading. Not because he couldn’t hit back, Wolffe knew better than that, it was because when he truly fought it was to… well, incapacitating would be good at this moment, but it always ended up with someone pretty injured. And Plo tried not to injure others in the upper and mid-levels of society.
Wolffe knew how devastating Plo could get when he put his strength behind his hits, if he decided to go that route. He had gone with Plo and Shaak down to some of the crazy underground fight rings the first year after he had been adopted because Plo felt like moving around. Thank god he had though, one of the ‘prizes’ for winning the rounds had been Jag. Who had been twelve at that time and scared and Wolffe protected his new little brother viciously.
Wildfire had been the next from another kickboxing ring, also twelve, hair ratty and Wolffe had snuck out with Plo's wallet and bought the best brush he could find from the corner store— much to Plo's amusement when he snuck back in that night. Plo taught him how to take care of long hair after that, and Wolffe found himself dealing with Plo's other child, Lissarkh, as well— the girl teaching him how to braid.
After Wildfire came Warthog and Comet, both ten, and after that fight, Wolffe learned that not only did Plo seem to enjoy fighting in these barely legal rings, but he was doing it to get as many children free as possible. If he happened to lose, well, that's why Shaak Ti, and whoever else was brought along, were there— and Shaak Ti was quite scary in her own right.
(Wolffe had been startled to see the head of police with them once, tagging in after Plo broke his arm after winning six consecutive mixed martial arts matches in a row. Mace Windu was also scary in his own right. And very fast.)
But he digresses. What mattered was on the surface levels of society, Plo would never strike with that same intent he had down in the rings.
Krell was growling now, and Plo was bouncing on his feet.
He saw Warthog with his phone out and rolled his eyes.
His brothers kept sending videos of Plo just doing things to Kit— and normally, Boost and Sinker would be doing the same, but they had Katooni at the moment. Something that Krell seemed to notice.
Wolffe wouldn’t pretend to understand why people who clearly hated children would always fight to keep them. But what he did know was that the ‘Pack wasn’t going to let him hurt the kid again.
Krell lunged for Boost and Sinker, who instantly shoved Katooni farther back towards Wildfire and Nex with one hand each, the other arm going up to guard against the punch that was aimed for them. Both he and Warthog moved to support the twins, but the hit never reached them as Cin finally moved into action, nightsticks slamming into the muscular man’s wrists and forcing him down. At the same time, Plo kicked Krell’s legs out from under him, sending the man crashing to the ground.
“Coruscant PD,” Cin said flatly. “You’re under arrest, set to be detained for resisting.”
Krell snarled. “Resisting what?” he snapped, “A group of dirty bikers from taking my brat?”
Plo snorted, picking up the pieces of his glasses. “Oh, you don’t remember, Mister Krell?” he asked, voice dripping with acid, and without realizing it, Wolffe’s lips curled into a sneer. His brothers seemed to have the same reaction, sneers and grins with way too many teeth all on their faces as Keto and McCallum flicked their own nightsticks to their full length, standing next to Cin. He saw Shaak shift her footing from the corner of his eye as Colt’s hand moved to his taser on his belt. If Krell continued to resist now, he'd be in for it.
The Wolfpack was fine with letting Plo handle the initial fight, but the moment Krell went after Katooni, Boost, and Sinker? No way.
“The Wolfpack gets employed by Coruscant’s Police Department and Child Protection Services from time to time,” Plo continued, pocketing the shards of plastic and bent wire as he adjusted his bandana around his face again. His silvery-gray eyes were stormy as he stepped over to Cin’s side. “It would be best if you didn’t continue to resist arrest.”
Krell growled, but eventually submit to Cin and his officers. Wolffe stepped over to his Buir as soon as Krell was out of the way, digging into his jacket and pulling out a spare glasses case, and handing it over.
“Thank you, son,” he heard Plo murmur, opening it and slipping the replacement sunglasses onto his face before Shaak Ti and Colt joined them.
“Thank you for handling this until Cin arrived, Plo,” Shaak sighed as Colt joined Nex and Wildfire, crouching down to talk to Katooni, who was quite shaken still. Plo simply hummed.
“I would have done this even if CPS didn’t catch on,” he admitted. “Only difference is that I don’t have to file paperwork for unprompted and aggressive assault with Mace.”
That made the dark-skinned woman laugh a bit as she shook her head. “It’s almost as if you’ve done it before,” she tased and Wolffe grinned a bit as he saw his Buir give his closest living friend a look that would’ve translated into a wicked smirk had he not been covering his face.
“My dear Shaak, I’ve had thirty years to stop causing trouble for the CPD,” he said with pride. “I haven’t and I’m not going to stop now.”
Shaak laughed softly at that before Nex, Colt, and Wildfire walked over, Wildfire carrying Katooni, the dark-skinned girl gripping onto the long-haired brother.
“So what’s the plan?” Colt asked Shaak. She hummed as Plo gently took Katooni from Wildfire, and Wolffe chuckled under his breath. Their Buir was already enamored with the little girl.
But then again, there wasn’t a child he wasn’t willing to adopt— no matter the age. Hell, those Night Brother punks were technically their brothers too, because Plo was written down as their guardian after he stopped them from entering the prison system one day.
(And whatever the three did on their own time wasn’t for Plo and the rest of Plo’s Bros, as the wide web of adoptees called themselves, to know. It was the same with any other one of the ‘bros’ who lived in the shadier side of life in Coruscant.)
Wolffe nudged his buir. “You should call that boyfriend of yours before you start adopting, buir,” he said, grinning in glee at the slightly startled noise that escaped the older man.
At first, he had been hesitant, resistant to Kit. Because what kid wouldn’t be resistant to a sudden, new ‘parental’ figure in their lives? Wolffe was protective of Plo, fiercely so, and he had been more than suspicious when the dark-skinned man started chatting up his Buir while they were at some Yoda-Family gathering because Ahsoka had been invited.
He had been suspicious when the guy kept running into them because Fox had told him that he heard from Cin that the guy— Kit Fisto— usually never left the coast. He had also been suspicious when Plo and Kit had become friends, then Kit started asking Plo out on dates, and Wolffe had continued to be suspicious until only a year or two ago.
“I don’t think I will be able to, at the moment,” Plo grumbled, an air of lament around him as he carded his fingers gently through Katooni’s hair— the girl having dozed off. Shaak gave him a sympathetic smile.
“Unfortunately not,” she agreed. “The Uppers would never pass it.”
Wolffe narrowed his eyes. “Why not?” he questioned, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his bike.
“Worry about overcrowding, worry about the correct parental support, worry about Plo’s unofficial job,” she listed, “Most of the children that Plo has taken in legally have been older— except for Ahsoka and Lissarkh.”
Wolffe snorted. Yeah, winning Nex, Nox, Comet, Jag, Warthog, Ghost, and Wildfire from underground fighting rings happened to be borderline illegal, considering how they had been trafficked in the first place.
“And Little ‘soka and Lissarkh had both Shaak Ti and Miss Saa sign off as the secondary godparent,” Plo added, adjusting Katooni in his arms. “And now they’ll bar me because I’m no longer, what is it you children say, single?”
Wolffe groaned at the reminder. Governor Palpatine had all sorts of minuscule roadblocks that were asinine when it came to getting almost anything in the lower ranks of society done.
And for some reason, Plo being a single father was more acceptable than him being involved with, gods forbid, another man.
“They won’t let you sign off?” he asked Shaak and she shook her head.
“Unfortunate as it is, I’m not allowed to adopt unless Katooni goes through at least one foster house,” she admitted.
“It’s stupid and we hate it,” Colt said flatly and Wolffe closed his eyes, thinking before Boost spoke up.
“Well if the parents cant adopt her, what’s stopping us?”
All four of them turned to the older of the two twins, though he was a bit compromised, stuck in a headlock from Nex while Sinker videotaped it.
Boost blinked. “What?”
“Boost, I could kiss you,” Wolffe told him flatly and his brother instantly screwed his face up.
“Ew, don’t that's gross, Wolffe,” he huffed and Plo just laughed a bit. Nex looked contemplative.
“Boost is right though, for once,” he said with a shrug, making the other cry out in annoyance at the dig and his younger brother jammed his elbow into his ribs, but Nex didn't let go. “What’s stopping us from adopting Katooni? We’re technically employed with the CPS and CPD, right? And at least Wolffe is a legal adult on paper and mentally—“ that caused some of the other brothers to shout as well. “— Plus overcrowding? Really Buir? Dorin has so many extra and unused rooms, even when Aunt Saf and her kids show up. It’s kinda ridiculous and there’s enough land to build another house if we have to, right?”
Plo’s brows were pulled into something that was definitely amusement as he listened to the bright-pink-haired young man.
“You’ll get no argument from me, my son,” he said simply, “But are you certain?”
“Oh, I’m not gonna do it,” Nex said dully. “Nox is enough of a handful. I think I’d like it if Katooni’s hair didn’t end up dyed too.”
Wolffe snorted, shaking his head. He caught the look Nex gave him, a silent 'go ahead' from him, before Wolffe pushed off of his bike, walking over to Plo and holding his arms out. Plo tilted his head but handed Katooni over to him with a hum. He was smiling behind his bandana as he took the kid into his arms.
“I suppose I’ll have to go and see what kids like for their bedrooms,” he sighed after Katooni settled against his neck. Plo chuckled.
“I’m sure if you ask Feral, he’d help you.”
“I think I’d rather eat my riding jacket, Buir.”
At Plo and his brothers' laughter, he smiled just a bit, gazing down at Katooni as she settled closer. Bruises dotted her skin and his heart clenched. Krell should be glad he was in custody right now, he supposed. The moment Ghost saw the bruises, he’d be on a warpath against Krell— if he was still free.
And Wolffe’d join him, of course. No one hurt his kid.
He liked the sound of that. Katooni Koon, daughter of Wolffe Koon, granddaughter of Plo Koon.
He’d have to get her fitted for a jacket and see if they still had the sidecar from when Ahsoka was an ankle biter still.
“Welcome home, kiddo,” he murmured and realized that even if he and Plo weren’t related by blood, the apple really didn’t ever fall far from the tree.
Nex and Nox show up from time to time in my Sticker series, and Ghost shows up in a lot of my SW work with the Pack. Saf is the name I gave Sha’s mother and Plo’s sister.
Might go into this later, but Lissarkh was Plo's first child, he adopted her when she was two. She, Bultar, Sha, and Agen are all just two years younger than Wolffe here, and Bultar came into Plo's care when Bultar was a teenager. Cin's two officers, Bene and Serra are both real— or as real as Serra can get because of the wonky canon/not canon rules.
And Let's just give sheevie more things to hate him for. Mans a homöph//be and that's the tea I guess.
Also y e ah maybe Plo’s farmhouse is called Dorin, bite me.
ALSO ALSO YOU’D THINK ID KNOW MORE ABOUT ADOPTION VIA BEING AN ADOPTEE MYSELF BUT NOPE.
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Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Star Wars (Prequel Trilogy)
Pair: My usual space gays implied at the end
Summary: If he were anyone else, it would be weird that he would drop anything to go to anyone who called him. But he wasn’t anyone else, because over a hundred people had his number as their emergency contact.
Extra notes: Modern AU || AO3
Coruscant was a large city. The capital city, actually, so it made sense that there would be all sorts of people around. Good people, bad people, interesting people, and people in the middle. One group of people happened to be on the good end of the spectrum, but one wouldn’t know at first glance. Notorious in the lower and upper rings of society for varying reasons, the Biker Gang known as the Wolfpack was certainly filed under ‘interesting people’.
Now, to clear something up, the Wolfpack wasn’t your typical Biker Gang. They were more of a family— an organization, if they needed something ‘professional’. Sometimes they called themselves “Plo’s Bros” instead of the Wolfpack or the ‘Pack, but the sentiment was the same.
They weren’t your typical Biker Gang. In fact, they worked with the City’s Child Protection Services to get to and protect abused children should the abusers ignore the first attempts that the head of the CPS, Miss Shaak Ti, and the so-called Rancor Boys made to get a child out of a situation.
After all, what was more intimidating than a bunch of men riding up to your home on motorcycles with helmets and jackets emblazoned with images of teeth and that wolf insignia that was pretty notorious in the lower circles.
Though to be fair, Plo Koon himself had a reputation in the lower circles. For as respected among the upper circles as he was for his intelligence and calm demeanor, he was just as respected in the lower for being a foe not easily beaten down. And his boys followed his steps, bearing the insignia of a wolf.
But that was besides the point.
Quinlan Vos’ bar wasn’t in the safest location, for most that was. To be fair, his job as an informant for the police really put him there, but he didn’t mind. Kiffu brought in the most interesting people.
The regulars were there, of course, Cad and his gang hiding in the corner, good ol’ Jango and his kid had just left after grabbing lunch, that trio of punks known as the “Night Brothers” were at the dart board, though only Savage and Maul were playing, Feral seemed content to just watch as he sipped at his drink.
And of course, the tables were full of brown, grey, black, and white clad men. Some had dyed hair, there was one, Quinlan saw, with his hair dyed a bright pink and he really did want to know the story there, others had their hair long, short, shaved— some didn’t have any, but remarkably, they all had similar faces.
Brothers, the head of this oh-so infamous “gang” had said.
Quinlan was pulled from his musing as the clinking of credits reached his ears and he turned from where he was cleaning a glass.
Speak, or rather think, of the devil and he appears.
“Plo Koon,” Quinlan greeted with a grin as the aged man set the credits for his usual drink down on the counter. “I was wondering where you were, your boys were here, but you weren’t— I thought the world was ending or something.”
The man laughed. “My sons are all their own people and grown adults,” he countered as he sat down on one of the many stools. “I just happened to be a bit late today. Talking with Kit.”
Ah, the surfer that showed up at Kiffu sometimes. Quinlan knew the guy, he was friendly and had recently dyed the tips of his hair a vibrant green.
Plo Koon, on the other hand and as said before, was famous for a number of things in the lower circles of Coruscant’s society.
Famous for being a person that people could go to for help without fear of him judging by their social standing. A person who was famous for being hard to break— Cad’s gang had tried once, Aurra complained that about bruising for the next few days. Maul had looked over when he had overheard before warning them with a sneer that he had been merciful on them if they got away with just a bruising.
Quinlan knew that was true. Apparently Plo had electrocuted someone who tried holding a child as a hostage. The culprit survived— unfortunately— but that story had spread like wildfire.
And of course, the Wolfpack had made Plo famous too. There was nothing more respected than men working in perfect coordination to beat back racists in the lower circles— that was one thing that the mixed company of the shadiest areas in Coruscant could agree on. Racism had no place in the lower circles, it was hard enough as it was.
Plo Koon was an older man, in his fifties or sixties at the oldest, if Quinlan had to pin him with an age, but according to Wolffe, the oldest of the ‘Pack and the oldest son, there were only a handful of people who knew Plo’s real age— Wolffe and the rest of Plo’s kids, the Head of the Police (Mace Windu), and Kit Fisto. Because of course that surfer did.
Still, he wasn’t young.
Plo’s auburn hair was streaked with silver and there were age-lines that Quinlan could see on his skin— or at least the skin that he could see. The man almost always wore Lennon-styled shades with side shields and a black bandanna covering his face from the nose down.
“You and the boys’ve been busy,” Quinlan commented as he set the drink down in front of Plo. The man just chuckled a bit, tucking the straw under the bandana and taking a drink before he answered.
“Well, Shaak Ti has been running into problems as of late. A certain Mister Krell has been resisting, but he’s also protected by the state. The boys and I are having trouble getting little Katooni out from under his guardianship,” he said with a sigh, shaking his head. “Jaro wants to use more aggressive tactics, but you know how it is up there.”
“Shitty?” he answered and the other man snorted.
Quinlan shrugged. “Close enough.”
He was certain that Plo just rolled his eyes from behind his glasses before glancing over his shoulder as cheers came from the tables. Quinlan looked past him, watching as one of the boys with his hair bleached white— Sinker— slammed the arm of a more messy, dark haired one down.
“Do not break Jag’s wrist,” Plo called, a tone of warning in his voice, but it was light and he was probably smiling behind that bandana of his. Sinker just gave a thumbs up as the other, Jag, made a face but tugged his arm free.
Plo shook his head. “Boys.”
“Ha! I’m glad I only had to raise Aayla,” Quinlan mused, remembering his adoptive daughter.
“I recall you were complaining to Lissarkh about how she was dating a young man named Bly just two weeks ago.”
Quinlan made a face. He vaguely remembered that conversation with the green haired college student— who happened to also be Plo’s adoptive daughter. One of many of his children.
He was cut off by Plo’s phone ringing and Plo just hummed, pulling it from his jacket’s pocket without missing a beat. He took one glance at the ID before answering.
“Anakin, what happened?”
Plo paused, brows furrowing before he stood. “We’re on our way, son, tell her to hold tight for us.”
The Biker was already zipping his jacket up, as he pocketed his phone, standing from the stool and Quinlan blinked.
“What happened?” he asked but Plo just gave him an amused look.
“Anakin forgot that Little ‘Soka’s field hockey practice let out early today,” he said with a chuckle. “He’s in Ryloth, the next City over, with Obi-Wan, they won’t be back until her practice would usually end. Yoda is out of town as well, and Shaak Ti is still working. Bultar and Lissarkh are back on campus with Sha and Agen, and Kit’s also busy— apparently there’s a shark problem on the coast and he has to keep tourists out of the waters today.”
Quinlan stared before he laughed. “Maaan, I thought it was something major like he had gotten shot or something,” he said, shaking his head. “And why’s Anakin picking up your daughter from practice anyways? In fact, why is Kit doing it too?”
Plo chuckled as he motioned to his sons to start heading out. “Little ‘Soka and Anakin are childhood friends, practically siblings. He likes to dote on her like she’s his own little sister.”
“And you let him?”
Plo just gave him a shrug. “Anakin might as well be my son too.”
The Biker waved over his shoulder as he said that, already heading out with his sons and Quinlan crossed his arms, grinning a bit as he watched them leave— dark gray bikes peeling off in duos and trios behind Plo’s.
Just last week Jango— yeah, the one that had just walked out before Plo had shown up— had called Plo asking for him to go and pick up Boba from school because Jango was being held in the detention center.
(obviously, he got out.)
And the week before that, he had picked up some child named Zatt from swim practice, and also the mother-daughter duo of Luminara and Barriss when their car broke down— Quinlan was still laughing at that because he couldn’t imagine prim and proper Luminara on the back of Plo’s motorcycle at all.
Hell, the man has gone and picked up the Night Brother Trio from the precinct more than once.
And, Quinlan realized, that Plo had never answered why Kit was on that list of people who he let pick up Ahsoka. Well, he had been talking to him before he showed up today, probably over the phone... wait a moment...
“Shit no way, that happy-go-lucky punk that picks fights with Cad’s crew is gettin’ some, and I have yet to get any in the past few years?”
“You mean you didn’t know?” he heard Feral ask and he turned to glare at the Night Brother, who rolled his eyes in return. “Vos, even Boba knew, and Boba’s like ten.”
“Boba’s a brat and how was I supposed to know that Fisto was getting a fist of that?” Quinlan defended himself, making a gesture towards the door, and Maul snorted.
“You’re their bartender, Vos,” he sneered, rolling his eyes as well, “But I guess jolly green’s got more game then you.”
That made Savage and Feral break out into roars of laughter.
Quinlan was cutting them all off from drinks early just for that comment.
Don’t ask why Katooni is under Krell’s guardianship, I needed a reason for CPS to get involved with him.
Also I might turn this into a series, not sure yet.
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Hey. I’m Penguin. Or Kiwi. I’ll answer to both!
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Flash Fiction Friday (fics from FFF that are 100-500 words)
Current Works in Progress:
The Sith Detection Method (Star Wars TCW/PT/EU || Random updates and no full chapters yet )
What Once Was, Now Moving Forwards (Star Wars TCW/The Mandalorian)
Wolffepack Against Child Abuse (Modern Star Wars TCW/PT AU)
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