𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 || 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

𝟎𝟏𝟏 | 𝐏𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

❝𝘗𝘰𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘴 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘹𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦. ❞
                      - 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬é 𝐀. 𝐀𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐚 𝐍𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

»»-----------►Ｆｏｒｃｅ

𝐈𝐅 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 were to walk into Mos Espa on the sunny, bright day of the grand pod race, all would hear the deafening drone of the hundreds of engines getting turned on throughout the sandy race track.

On a viewing tower high above the chaos below, a Gungan, two beautiful sisters, a Jedi, an astro mech, an interpreter, and a middle aged woman all stood in anticipation for the big event to take place, rooting for a certain blonde boy in a homemade podracer.

A small tablet engraved into a metal stand by the thick railing of the viewing tower showed the friends and family of young Anakin Skywalker how the race was going, showing them just how well their young blonde was doing.

Back down into the sandy dune below, Anakin Skywalker quickly flipped a switch underneath the rest of the controls after one of the announcers shouted, "Start your engines!"

All the while, his mother and Clarissé stood up in the stands, the younger of the two pacing anxiously and biting her young nails, deep in worried thought with shallow breath.

Other aliens from all over the galaxy waved custom flags in their colorful, fat hands. These flags were meant to represent the podracers. Anakin's was a snowy white with an intricate blue design on the left. A golden letter in Huttese sat on the right side.

Jar Jar, in complete panic, swiftly covered his big eyes with his large hands, exclaiming, "Oh, dissen ganna be messy! Mesa no watchen!" The action from the childish Gungan made the young girl next to him pat his slumped shoulder with reassurance and hope, silently telling him that everything would be fine. Anakin would be okay, and he would win.

But even then, with all the hope and optimism in the galaxy, the young queen wasn't so sure.

Jabba the infamous Hutt, upon his throne, looking down at all the slaves and merchants below him with a disgusting scowl, yanked a poor, completely innocent frog from a tray next to him, and without an inch of sympathy for the small creature in his blob of a hand, Jabba pulled off the frog's head with his nonexistent teeth and munched harshly on the poor frog's body, spitting out a chunk of the frog at a golden gong in the corner of the balcony, signaling that the racers were free to finally race. Clarissé, who looked up at the Hutt with her usual spark of curiosity, grimaced in disgust at the horrid Hutt while also frowning with pity at the innocent frog that was unwillingly forced to give its life for something as horrible as Jabba the Hutt. Clarissé slightly shook her head in distaste at the fat alien, hating the bulbous Hutt immensely at that moment for the murder of something so innocent and small, such as herself.

With that tiny chime, and a bright green light emitting from its place on the bridge above the racing track, all the pods down below suddenly dashed forward, out of sight and onto the tedious track ahead of them.

All except two.

The first one; a droopy faced Toong named Ben Quadinaros. The mentioned Toong's pod didn't even move an inch before the engine sputtered out, causing the spring green alien to frantically and cartoonishly panic at the sound and sight of his pod failing.