Chapter 26

Carlos leaned back into the worn leather of the couch in his weed shop, the familiar hum of Star Wars: A New Hope beginning to fill the room. His fingers lazily gripped a half-burned joint, and a bowl of snacks rested on his lap. The shop itself was dimly lit, its cozy, cluttered shelves filled with cannabis products, adding to the laid-back atmosphere. As the iconic opening crawl floated up the screen, Carlos took a slow puff, exhaling with a contented sigh. Beside him, Andreas sat, arms crossed, his usual skeptical expression softened by the relaxed setting, but still present. It was clear this wasn’t his favorite Star Wars movie, but he was along for the ride.

Andreas leaned back, his arms still crossed, watching as the Star Destroyer chased down Princess Leia’s ship. "You ever notice how Republic tech just seems to get worse over time?" he remarked, still staring at the screen. "In the prequels, everything’s sleek, high-tech. Now we’ve got clunky ships and blocky droids that look like they’ve seen better days. It’s like the galaxy downgraded overnight." His tone was casual, not really dismissive—just his usual observation, as if the fall of galactic technology fascinated him more than the story itself.

Carlos snorted, shaking his head as he took another puff of the joint. "Man, that’s because the Republic was at the height of its power. You can’t compare that to a bunch of rebels scrambling for scraps against the Empire." He reached into the snack bowl, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. "Besides, you don’t need shiny ships when you’ve got Han Solo and the Millennium Falcon. That’s all you need to win a war, trust me." His grin widened as he gestured to the screen, where Han was about to make his first appearance.

Andreas raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Carlos’ response. "Yeah, right. A beat-up freighter flown by a smuggler is somehow gonna take down the whole Empire?" He shook his head, though there was a hint of a smile on his face. "I’ll give you this, though—Han’s the only guy in this whole galaxy who knows how to handle his business." He leaned forward slightly, watching as Han Solo appeared on the screen. "But let’s be real, even the Falcon looks like it’s held together by duct tape and hope."

Carlos laughed, reaching for another handful of snacks. "That’s the point, man! It’s not about the ship; it’s about the pilot. Han Solo makes that junker work because he’s got guts. You don’t need a shiny cruiser when you’ve got someone like him in the cockpit." He leaned back, exhaling a cloud of smoke as the film moved forward. "And the prequels? Sure, the tech’s nice, but give me Han and his ‘duct-taped’ Falcon any day. That’s real spirit right there." As he spoke, the shop door chimed, signaling a customer’s arrival. Carlos gave Andreas a wink. "Hold that thought, gotta deal with this."

Carlos stood up, joint still in hand, and wandered over to the counter, leaving Andreas lounging on the couch. The customer, a familiar face, gave a quick nod and a smile as he browsed through the shelves. "What’s up, man?" Carlos greeted, his tone laid-back and easy. "You looking for something to help you relax tonight? Got some fresh indica in that’ll knock you out." As the customer made his selection, Carlos glanced back at the TV where Han Solo was in the midst of bargaining with Obi-Wan and Luke. "That right there," Carlos pointed with the joint, "that’s the best con man in the galaxy. He’s selling them hope and a beat-up freighter, and they’re buying it."

Andreas chuckled from the couch, still watching the scene unfold. "Yeah, they’re buying it because they don’t have a choice," he called over his shoulder. "It’s either trust the scoundrel or wait for the Empire to blast them into space dust. Not exactly a tough call." He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head as he watched Han's smooth-talking charm play out on screen. "Still, you gotta respect the guy. He knows how to make the best out of a bad situation. Reminds me of someone." Andreas shot Carlos a knowing glance, clearly referring to his friend’s own knack for getting by with what he had.

Carlos smirked as he rang up the customer, handing over a small jar of indica. "Hey, you do what you gotta do to get by, right?" he said, sliding the cash into the register. "Doesn’t matter if it’s a junky ship or a weed shop, as long as you’ve got the hustle." The customer gave a quick thanks and headed for the door, the bell chiming as he left. Carlos took another hit from the joint before making his way back to the couch. "Besides, I’ve got my own Millennium Falcon right here," he said, gesturing to the shop around him with a grin. "Might be a little rough around the edges, but it gets the job done."

Andreas smirked, his gaze following Carlos as he settled back onto the couch. "Yeah, except your Falcon’s got a duck waddling around like it owns the place." As if on cue, Ben Quackfleck waddled into view, pausing in front of the iguana cage. She fluffed her feathers and made her way up the ramp, dropping a piece of food into Littlefoot’s enclosure. "You know," Andreas continued, watching the scene unfold, "if anyone’s the real mastermind here, it’s Ben. She’s got you wrapped around her little webbed foot." He leaned back again, clearly amused by how easily Carlos doted on his pet.

Carlos chuckled, watching Ben Quackfleck make her rounds. "You’re not wrong, man. Ben’s got it made. She’s the real boss around here, and I’m just the guy who runs the register." He took another long puff of the joint, the smoke curling lazily in the air as he leaned back into the couch. "I mean, look at her. She’s got me feeding her, giving her a throne to rule from, and even set up Littlefoot with a constant supply of snacks." Ben continued waddling around the shop, oblivious to the conversation, while Littlefoot lounged in his cage, looking as relaxed as ever. "You gotta respect that level of hustle," Carlos added, clearly entertained by the dynamic between his pets.

Andreas shook his head, still smiling. "Only in your shop could a duck and an iguana have a better setup than most people." He paused, watching as Ben Quackfleck strutted away from Littlefoot’s cage, her head held high like she truly owned the place. "But hey, who am I to argue with success? You’ve got your little kingdom here—Ben rules, Littlefoot’s the enforcer, and you… you’re the one making sure everything keeps running." He glanced back at the TV, where Luke was talking with Obi-Wan. "I guess it’s like what Han says, right? ‘Sometimes you gotta fly casual.’ That’s pretty much your whole life motto."

Carlos flicked his eyes back to the TV, but then a mischievous grin crossed his face. "So, speaking of ruling the roost… how’re things with Sylvia?" he asked, a teasing tone slipping into his voice. "You two still doing that whole ‘dance around each other’ thing, or are you finally gonna make a move?" He leaned over, nudging Andreas with his elbow. "C’mon, man, you can’t let her be all work and no play. A girl like that deserves some attention, even with all this Zorro nonsense going on."

Andreas sighed, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms again. "Yeah, well, with Zorro running around and this new Puppet Master freak in the mix, she’s been busy." He shrugged, keeping his tone casual, though Carlos could see the hint of something deeper behind the words. "Besides, she’s got her own thing going. It’s not like she needs me getting in the way."

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. "Man, you’re hopeless," he said, taking another hit from his joint. "You act like she’s too busy to even think about you, but come on. From what I hear, she’s handling all that Zorro stuff just fine. You think she can’t make time for something—or someone—else?" He shot Andreas a teasing look, clearly enjoying the opportunity to needle his nephew about his love life. "You’re just scared to make a move, that’s all."

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

Andreas smirked, leaning forward and rubbing the back of his neck. "Scared? Nah, I just know how to pick my battles. Right now, she’s got her hands full, and I’m not exactly in a rush to complicate things." He grabbed a handful of popcorn, tossing it into his mouth as he glanced back at the screen. "Besides, with this Puppet Master guy in the mix, she’s running around all over the place. Doesn’t exactly leave much room for romance." His voice was casual, but there was something guarded behind his words, the same way he always talked when the topic got too personal.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, sensing that there was more Andreas wasn’t saying, but he let it slide. "Yeah, well, if anyone can juggle catching bad guys and keeping you in line, it’s Sylvia." He laughed, flicking the ash from the joint into a nearby tray. "Don’t sell her short, man. She’s tougher than you give her credit for." He leaned back into the couch, eyes shifting back to the TV as the Millennium Falcon blasted into hyperspace. "But hey, if you’re not making a move, don’t be surprised if someone else does."

Andreas rolled his eyes, tossing another piece of popcorn into his mouth. "Yeah, yeah. I’m sure every guy in town is lining up to date a woman who spends her days tracking criminals and digging into disappearances." He smirked, though there was a flicker of something more serious in his expression. "Besides, she doesn’t need me getting in the way. She’s got Zorro to keep her busy, right?" He leaned back again, his tone light, but Carlos could tell that Andreas wasn’t as carefree about the situation as he pretended to be.

Carlos watched Andreas for a moment, picking up on the shift in his tone. He decided not to push further, instead flashing a grin and taking another hit from his joint. "Yeah, sure, Zorro’s got her running all over the place. But if you ask me, that’s just an excuse." He leaned back into the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. "One day, you’ll regret not stepping up when you had the chance, nephew." He glanced at the TV, where Han Solo was getting into one of his usual scrapes. "You never know, maybe you’re the Han Solo to her Leia, and you just haven’t figured it out yet."

Andreas chuckled, shaking his head. "Han and Leia, huh? More like Obi-Wan and his lightsaber—always fighting something but never really getting anywhere." He grabbed a handful of popcorn and tossed it in his mouth, clearly dodging the deeper meaning behind Carlos’ words. "Besides, I’m not exactly swooping in with a blaster and a smooth line. I’m more like the guy in the background watching everything go up in flames and wondering why I’m still sticking around." He smirked, though there was a hint of truth behind the joke, his usual self-deprecating humor slipping through.

Carlos shook his head, laughing. "Man, you’re too hard on yourself. Maybe that’s why you haven’t made a move—you’re too busy playing the outsider instead of the hero." He tossed the last of the joint into the ashtray and grabbed a bottle of water from the nearby table. "You know, sometimes you’ve just gotta step into the middle of things, even if it’s messy. Can’t wait for the perfect moment." He took a sip, eyes flicking back to the TV where Luke was getting his first glimpse of the Force. "The galaxy doesn’t wait for anyone, and neither will she."

Andreas didn’t respond right away, his eyes fixed on the screen, though the images barely registered. Carlos’ words cut deeper than he expected, touching on something he hadn’t fully admitted—not to anyone, not even himself. It wasn’t just the job, or Sylvia, or the city. It was Zorro. Every time he put on that mask, it felt like he was slipping further away from himself, like he wasn’t Andreas anymore. The mask, the sword, the fight—it had taken over. I’m already gone, he thought bitterly. Most days, it felt like he was watching someone else’s life from the sidelines, detached, just going through the motions. "Yeah, maybe," he finally muttered, keeping his tone casual, though there was a tightness behind the words. "But I’m already in too deep to change that now."

Carlos, sensing the shift in Andreas’ tone, looked at him for a moment longer, his usual grin fading into something more serious. He wasn’t one to pry, but he could tell when something was off. Still, Carlos knew better than to push too hard. He leaned back into the couch, eyes drifting back to the TV as Luke and Han bantered about the plan to rescue Leia. "Well, just don’t forget who you are under all that weight, man," Carlos said quietly, breaking the silence. "No matter how deep you think you are, there’s always a way out. You just gotta find it." He kept his eyes on the screen, letting the words hang there without pushing further, giving Andreas the space to either respond or let it slide.

Andreas let the comment slide, keeping his eyes on the TV as the familiar scenes of Star Wars played out. He didn’t have the energy to unpack what Carlos was hinting at, not tonight. The truth was, it was easier to stay quiet, to let the conversation flow around him without digging too deep. He grabbed another handful of popcorn, crunching on it absentmindedly, his mind already elsewhere. Letting the mask take over had been easier than dealing with everything else—easier than trying to figure out who he was underneath it all.

A sudden unease crept over Andreas, a cold sensation curling up his spine. It wasn’t just the weight of the mask, of Zorro, that was taking over—it was something else. Something deeper. His mind flashed briefly to a memory, or maybe a dream, of him lying on the cold bathroom floor. The mirror had been shattered, his hand bleeding, and a bottle of something spilling out beside him, soaking into the floor. He didn’t know why that image surfaced now, out of nowhere, but it clung to him. For a split second, it felt real, like it had just happened. He shook his head, forcing the thought away, but the feeling lingered, like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

Andreas blinked, trying to push the memory—or whatever it was—out of his mind. He focused back on the TV, on the steady hum of the shop, on Carlos lounging beside him, oblivious to the quiet storm in Andreas’ head. The sound of blasters and the chatter of characters on screen helped ground him, but that unsettling feeling still clung to him like smoke. He took a deep breath, his fingers absentmindedly tapping against the arm of the couch. Whatever that was, he thought, it’s not important right now. But the chill in his chest told him it wasn’t going away that easily.

Carlos, still engrossed in the movie, didn’t notice Andreas’ momentary distraction. He chuckled at something on screen, reaching over to grab another snack from the bowl. "Man, I forgot how good this one is," he said, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. "Classic Star Wars, you know? Doesn’t get any better." He leaned back, totally relaxed, his words cutting through the heavy thoughts that had been circling in Andreas’ mind. For a moment, Andreas envied him—the simplicity of being able to just watch a movie without the weight of a thousand other things bearing down on him.

Andreas forced a smile, nodding as he reached for some popcorn. "Yeah, it’s a classic," he said, though his mind was still miles away. He tried to let Carlos’ laid-back attitude rub off on him, but it wasn’t sticking. The weight in his chest hadn’t gone anywhere, and the memory of that shattered mirror, the blood, the empty bottle—it lingered. He could still feel the chill in his bones, like something was watching, waiting. He shoved another handful of popcorn into his mouth, trying to bury the feeling with the noise of the film and the crunch in his ears. Just focus on the movie, he told himself. But it felt like the more he tried to push it down, the more it threatened to surface.

As the movie moved forward, Andreas kept his focus on the screen, but the unease simmered just beneath the surface. He couldn’t shake the image of the bathroom floor, no matter how hard he tried. The shattered mirror, the blood on his hand—it all felt too real, like a warning he couldn’t decipher. Why now? The question nagged at him, but he swallowed it down, taking another breath. Carlos was still relaxed beside him, oblivious to the storm brewing in Andreas’ mind. Maybe that was for the best. He didn’t need anyone poking around in the mess he couldn’t even explain to himself.

Carlos stretched his arms over his head, completely unaware of the turmoil running through Andreas’ thoughts. "Man, this part gets me every time," he said with a grin, nodding toward the screen as the Millennium Falcon dodged TIE fighters in a wild space chase. "It’s just you and your crew against the galaxy, you know? No backup, no fancy tech—just heart." He laughed lightly, enjoying the simplicity of the scene, while Andreas watched in silence. The words hit a little too close to home. Just heart, Andreas thought bitterly. He wasn’t sure if he had much of that left anymore.

Andreas glanced at his watch, the time pulling him out of his thoughts. He had to stop by Izzy’s on the way home, something Maria had insisted on, and it was getting late. "Alright, I should get going," he said, standing up and brushing the crumbs off his pants. "Gotta make a stop before I head home." He gave Carlos a nod, his usual casual demeanor slipping back into place, though the weight in his chest hadn’t lifted.

Carlos looked up, a little surprised but gave a shrug. "Yeah, alright, man. Don’t stay out too late," he said with a grin, grabbing another handful of snacks. "And don’t forget—heart, kid. That’s what gets you through." Andreas gave a small nod, not trusting himself to respond, and headed for the door. The cool night air hit him as he stepped outside, the sounds of the shop and Star Wars fading behind him. He made his way to his Charger, the familiar rumble of the engine bringing a sense of grounding as he slid into the driver’s seat. As he pulled out of the lot, Carlos’ words lingered in the back of his mind, but he focused on the road ahead, pushing it all aside—for now.