Yeah! Another update! My muse has finally smiled upon me! I know this is
short, but please bear with me, I'll get more chapters out and running soon
enough
Yes, as a matter of fact I am George Lucas, and I do own... naaaaa, I'm just playing with your head! For real, I am not Lucas and I don't own didley squad of these character, expect Nikki and Rogi, of course! If Lucas wants to use them, he'll have to pay me! I'll be waiting patiently for my check as I write out more chapters!
And no, I did not consume excessive amounts of caffine or sugar, thank you very much.
CHAPTER 11
"What the heck do you think you're doing, Roginald?"
Rogi let slip a venomous sneer at the mention of his detested proper name, then continued pounding the black tiles. Intently ignoring her.
As Rogi thrust his legs in blurring pattern, his hands moving with firm, instinctive strokes to maintain balance, a forced grip yanked those busy hands and legs from the floor, and his entire weight slammed against the black tiles.
Bewildered, Rogi went into attack mode. The ceiling lights rung around her head, a halo of sunshine above her crown, a glaring nuisance that sought to blind him as he challenged the violet eyes.
"Listen to me," she grounded, oblivious to the affect the bulbs were casting, "I am Kela. You are a smuggler. I demand respect, you give."
The stormtroopers became further engrossed as a second teenager fell to the ground, this time headfirst and because of a sold kick to the leg below her knee. They watched her enraged eyes freeze, and become a stern shade of vacancy that met what seemed like a pair of calming angry seas.
"You are Nikki. You are under the captivity of a Sith Lord in an Imperial base. You are not Kela, you are not a dictator. Get over it. I am Rogi. And I."
Nikki's paralyzed arm melted as Rogi held it.
".am your friend. If you expect to live and be happy, you should be my friend too. Because if you try to pull one over on me again I will kill you."
Rogi lifted himself from his knees and went away, the disinterested stormies returned to their stations, and Nikki hated herself for becoming so low and fragile as to hunger to the moral support of a fellow human being.
She wished she could harden into a statue, wished she could maintain her emotionless state forever, because maybe if she looked vacant, stern, and aloof, perhaps no one would be suspicious of the paralyzation that had numbed her every fiber of being and thought.
Maybe if she stopped thinking and moving altogether, the winds and fires of her emotional turmoil that threatened to break the fortress of her heart would freeze and she could once again be that content cynic.
But that was not to be, for in a few seconds her emotionless bliss was interrupted, and the tiny, desperate light of hope she had nursed was quietly shrouded.
"Come on, Nikki, we're going to our apartments."
Tightening her face upwards, mustering together a 3-second regal expression, Nikki turned to see Lord Vader, Rogi, and the lieutenant waiting impatiently for her. She didn't know how she'd ended up sitting on her knees, but nevertheless she brought herself to her stiff feet, the loose wool shirt scratching against her shoulders, and walked followed the procession to her new home, vowing to never again melt at the touch of someone's arms.
Yes, as a matter of fact I am George Lucas, and I do own... naaaaa, I'm just playing with your head! For real, I am not Lucas and I don't own didley squad of these character, expect Nikki and Rogi, of course! If Lucas wants to use them, he'll have to pay me! I'll be waiting patiently for my check as I write out more chapters!
And no, I did not consume excessive amounts of caffine or sugar, thank you very much.
CHAPTER 11
"What the heck do you think you're doing, Roginald?"
Rogi let slip a venomous sneer at the mention of his detested proper name, then continued pounding the black tiles. Intently ignoring her.
As Rogi thrust his legs in blurring pattern, his hands moving with firm, instinctive strokes to maintain balance, a forced grip yanked those busy hands and legs from the floor, and his entire weight slammed against the black tiles.
Bewildered, Rogi went into attack mode. The ceiling lights rung around her head, a halo of sunshine above her crown, a glaring nuisance that sought to blind him as he challenged the violet eyes.
"Listen to me," she grounded, oblivious to the affect the bulbs were casting, "I am Kela. You are a smuggler. I demand respect, you give."
The stormtroopers became further engrossed as a second teenager fell to the ground, this time headfirst and because of a sold kick to the leg below her knee. They watched her enraged eyes freeze, and become a stern shade of vacancy that met what seemed like a pair of calming angry seas.
"You are Nikki. You are under the captivity of a Sith Lord in an Imperial base. You are not Kela, you are not a dictator. Get over it. I am Rogi. And I."
Nikki's paralyzed arm melted as Rogi held it.
".am your friend. If you expect to live and be happy, you should be my friend too. Because if you try to pull one over on me again I will kill you."
Rogi lifted himself from his knees and went away, the disinterested stormies returned to their stations, and Nikki hated herself for becoming so low and fragile as to hunger to the moral support of a fellow human being.
She wished she could harden into a statue, wished she could maintain her emotionless state forever, because maybe if she looked vacant, stern, and aloof, perhaps no one would be suspicious of the paralyzation that had numbed her every fiber of being and thought.
Maybe if she stopped thinking and moving altogether, the winds and fires of her emotional turmoil that threatened to break the fortress of her heart would freeze and she could once again be that content cynic.
But that was not to be, for in a few seconds her emotionless bliss was interrupted, and the tiny, desperate light of hope she had nursed was quietly shrouded.
"Come on, Nikki, we're going to our apartments."
Tightening her face upwards, mustering together a 3-second regal expression, Nikki turned to see Lord Vader, Rogi, and the lieutenant waiting impatiently for her. She didn't know how she'd ended up sitting on her knees, but nevertheless she brought herself to her stiff feet, the loose wool shirt scratching against her shoulders, and walked followed the procession to her new home, vowing to never again melt at the touch of someone's arms.