A fiction challenge I pulled from The Wedge Antilles Admiration Society. Great stuff. In short, it had to include chocolate, WalMart, be in Wedge's PoV, and have the infamous quote "Pretty. What do we blow up first?"
I did this just for the hell of it, 'cause it was fun. You know the routine. I own nuffin'
Give me Strength...
I knew I should have had a cup of caf this morning. At least one. Possibly an entire pot. Of the good stuff, mind you. Not the briefing room blend, oh no. Imported, preferably the one Hobbie's gotten me addicted to, from Ralltiir. Spiked with a double shot of Whyren's finest. Then again, that probably wouldn't help right now. Nothing is ever that simple.
I peered up at the side of the massive construction. Like a ground-based Death Star, the WalMart pulsed out eaves of enemy interceptors. Like clone troopers of previous generations, the throngs of employees clad in blue vests all had an uncanny resemblance, especially with those fake, plastoid smiles. And the customers were no better, I reminded myself, trying not to make eye contact. All that garish plaid and pastel. The worst was the pastel plaid. And I thought my flight suit was painful to look at. Maybe they were color blind? But I definitely needed caf.
Tycho shifted besides me, looking with growing concern into the giant, sliding-doored maw that was the entrance to the void. "So much for R&R," he muttered, his hand resting on the butt of his blaster. Hobbie, on my other side, looked equally tense; I didn't blame him.
Wes was somewhere in there. He had gone early, just wanting an Ewok figure to model his new Kettch mark two on. He had comlinked me an hour before, desperate for help. Unable to get back in contact, Tycho and I decided that a rescue mission was in order. A staff member from the hotel we were staying at had given us an incredulous look, muttering something about Black Friday and our suicidal tendencies. I still have no idea what she was on about. It did leave me with a feeling of dread though.
And now, here I was. It seemed as if the entire population of Coruscant was going in every second and nearly as many exiting. And one of my pilots was trapped inside. Great.
"We could just leave him," Tycho suggested, voicing my own thoughts.
Hobbie nodded vigorously. "I agree. I can get a new wingmate." He shuddered at the sight of the masses of beings.
I wanted to agree. Oh Sith, how I wanted to agree. I wanted to run hard and far, preferably to a system without one of these monstrosities. But Rogues don't leave Rogues, not if there's a glimmer of hope. Shaking my head, I pulled out my comlink. Good thing I had a few friends on planet, that we had all decided to take our leave together. I would need all the help I could get.
Keying in the frequency, I was gratified to hear a response, albeit sleepy. "Yeah?" the voice asked.
"I need to borrow you. Bring your gear. Get in touch with Myn and Gavin, they should be nearby. Bring them, and meet us here," I rattled off a string of coordinates.
"What's wrong?" the voice asked, now sounding concerned.
I sighed, glancing up at the monstrosity. "Wes is trapped in WalMart."
Less than an hour later, Judder Page appeared, a knapsack on his back, glaring evilly as the people around the building. Myn Donos and Gavin Darklighter followed closely behind, not looking pleased either.
"What possessed you?" Gavin demanded as soon as he got into earshot.
I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? I had nothing to do with this!"
He sighed and rubbed his temples. "He's more deranged than I thought."
Page nodded, having doffed his bag and begun handing out blasters and ammo packs. "Did he have any idea it was Black Friday?"
"What's that?" Tycho asked worriedly. "I don't like this 'black' bit."
"A lesser known, Outer Rim custom. Third Friday in the eleventh month, standard time; basically everyone goes shopping," Gavin sounded as if he'd suffered this before.
Tycho's and Hobbie's mouths dropped, and I'm sure mind did, too. We let him come to this? Sithspawn.
"Great. Okay, we need a plan," Myn fingered his blaster as he pushed my mind back to a normal operating state.
"Concurred. Two teams, or three?" Page looked to me while scrumptiously strapping a few concusion grenades to his belt.
I considered for a moment. "I would prefer three, but I think two would be safer. These people are dangerous."
We quickly divided into up. Myn and Hobbie stayed with me, while Gavin and Tycho paired with Page. We set up a comlink system should any of us need emergency backup, then took a collective deep breath before stepping into the void.
Sithspit. I need caf.
The press of bodies was strangling. At locations around the store, droves of beings were attacking piles of products. Cardboard went flying. Droids clustered about, calling "No blasters!" in dozens of languages.
Keeping close, Myn, Hobbie and myself pushed past. Dozens of floors above us, nearly as many below. Colors everywhere; I could feel a headache forming. Myn looked ruffled, Hobbie downright panicked. I heard him mumbling.
"Hobbs, speak up."
He flushed sheepishly. "Sorry, I was just thinking."
Myn smirked. "I have a pretty good idea what it was about. Something like… 'Pretty. What do we blow up first?'"
I grinned. At least spirits were high. "Sounds like something Wes would say. Now, where do we start looking for him?"
"Well, since Wes has the mental age of twelve," Myn began thoughtfully.
"- we should look for him somewhere interesting for a twelve year old -" I knew where this was going, and felt a cold sweat start to trickle down my back.
"- which could only be one place -" Myn gulped audibly.
"The toy department."
I wanted to cry. It wasn't fair. None of it. At all. WalMart must have been created by a Dark JedI. No one else, except possibly our base's current quartermaster, could possibly be so sadistic. The entire top floor of the massive structure was occupied by only one thing. Toys. Dozens and dozens of hundreds of varieties. A scaled model of the Death Star hung from the ceiling encircled by toy fighters. Stuffed animals of more species than I could name were scattered everywhere. Wonderful.
Hobbie was grinning. "Look, Boss!" he help up an action figure model of himself. "I have karate-chop action!"
One look and he put it back.
"I have a bad feeling about this," I muttered under my breath, wishing now, more than ever, that I had stopped for caf. But Ackbar would personally bust me down to Flight Officer if I lost a pilot while on shore leave. Or worse, promote me to General. I suppressed a shudder. No, we had to find Wes.
"Hobbs, you know Wes and his idiosyncrasies better than the rest of us. Where would he be?"
He looked forlorn as he bit his lip. "I'm not sure. He really didn't mention anything, except…" he trailed off, his face screwed up in thought.
"What?" Myn demanded, stepping away from an approaching hoarde of small beings. I assumed them to all be children, but since I didn't recognize most of them, I wouldn't place any credits on that.
"Where's the candy aisle?"
They found him. Dozens of beings had him backed into a corner, angrily waving fists, tentacles, and other waveable appendages at him. Behind Wes, a small box, apparently the object of dispute.
Wes had built a small barricade out of empty boxes and was crouched behind, heaving bits of wrapped candy at people. One bounced off a Twi'lek's forehead and bounced into Myn, who snatched it from the air.
"Nice reflexes," I commented, raising an eyebrow.
He unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. A look of absolute pleasure passed over his face. "Chocolate," he nearly purred, licking the foil wrapper in an effort to pull the final molecules of the delicacy off.
Hobbie's eyes widened. "Are you serious?" He began searching the nearby floor for more of the discarded ammo.
I rolled my eyes, then saw Page and his group approaching from the far side. Only they were charging, snatching up pieces of flying chocolate as they went. Myn and Hobbie joined them, and I clenched my eyes as I began to get caught in the fleeing stampede. This wasn't happening. Oh Sith, this wasn't happening. Ackbar was gonna kill me…
I woke up in a cold sweat. Eyes wide, I snatched up my wrist choronometer. Still early.
It took a minute to collect my thoughts. I was on leave, on a backwater planet, mid-Rim. Nothing had happened. It was just a dream.
I snatched my comlink and keyed in Wes's frequency. "You awake?"
A moan. "I am now. What do you want?"
"Get me a cup of caf. You owe me."
ehehehe. R/R please. :D