Rating: PG. For "Star Wars" goofiness.
Feedback: Very, very much appreciated.
Distribution: If you want it, by all means. . . Just let me know first, I'd like to know where my work goes so I can brag
about it.
Spoilers: That would be a no.
Disclaimer: Joss, you crazy thing, you. He owns every damn thing related to Buffy and gang. And George Lucas owns
every single, tiny iota even remotely associated with "Star Wars."
Author's Note: Oh, don't tell me you haven't thought that Buffy characters would fit pretty well into the roles of "Star Wars"
because I know you all have. Well, at least me and my brother have. We put our heads together and came up with this
zany, out of this world, insane on the Drusilla level retelling of one of the greatest movie trilogies of all time. And, yes, I'm
planning on doing all three (that would be Episodes IV, V, and VI) so this is definitely something that will take up much of
my time. And don't you worry, most of the characters (the important ones anyway) will show up at one point or another in
this trilogy. I would also like to give credit to Meltha (read her stories, they're simply amazing) for the idea of the way of
narrating (i.e. I talk, characters hear and react). I thought it was such a great idea that I had to use it. Hope you're not bitter
I used it!
VAMP WARS
Episode IV
THE CHOSEN HOPE
A short time ago in a galaxy not-so-far away. . .
"That was very dramatic. Very movie-like."
Thank you, Willow. But don't speak out of turn. I haven't introduced you yet.
"Sorry."
It's all good. Now where was I? Ah, yes. An explosion, caused by a laser blast from the pursuing Imperial Destroyer, rocks the Princess's ship, causing a redheaded female and a smaller brunette one to sway from side to side. As they make their way down a corridor. . .
"Excuse me."
Yes?
"I have a question."
Shoot, you fiery haired one you.
"Why do I have to be Threepio?"
Well. . . You're smart and very computer-wise. That's why.
"I'll buy it. . . But why do I have to be the gay. . ." The red-haired one paused a moment to think about the irony of her question-at-hand. "On second thought, forget I said anything to the contrary."
Can do.
"Narrator! It's me!"
Hey Dawn-too Detoo. What's got your goat?
"Are we really droids? I mean, do I have to be all metallic and speak in a series of beeps?"
Hmm. . . Good question. Let me pause to ponder this. . . For the sake of this story, let's say you are both droids who look and act freakishly like humans. And no, you won't have to talk like a computer.
"'Kay. And why am I Artoo again?"
Because you're short and temperamental, just like he was.
"Fair enough. Thanks."
I do what I can. Back to the story. Just as both droid-girls regain composure from the first shake, another blast trembles the ship. An announcement comes over the ship's intercom.
"Did you hear that?!" Willow, our resident redhead droid, exclaimed. "They've shut down the ship's main reactor! We're screwed!"
Several Rebel soldiers run by the girls and position themselves at the doorway, aiming their blasters and crossbows at the main entryway.
"We're screwed, I tell you!"
"Amen to that."
"The Princess is not going to make it out alive."
"Somebody's not being very optimistic today. . ."
About the ship, the loud clinking and screeching noises of the craft being pulled aboard the larger one can be heard by all.
"What the hell's going on?" asks a frantic Willow.
Before her inquiry could be answered by Dawn or any other, an explosion blows a hole wide open into the entryway that the soldiers had been eyeing. Through the hole enter a bunch of vampire troopers, clad with vampiric game face, dark armor (sans the helmet to show their bumpy foreheaded faces) and equipped with laser blasters in ready position. Now normally vampires would use their teeth to fight but, to stay true to "Star Wars," we'll give them blasters just for the hell of it.
Several more moments go by and the entire corridor is shrouded with smoke and laser shots. Many of the non-vampire soldiers are taken down by these blasts. One blast catches the floor near Willow and Dawn.
"Aaah! I knew I shouldn't have trusted the logic of a reject from the 'New Saved By the Bell,'" Willow snapped as she dodged the blast.
Dawn took offense. "Well, excuuuse me, Ms. . ."
Ere the girls snapping at each other like angry old ladies could continue, we see a tall onyx-clothed being appear in the hole that had been ripped into the entrance. He then proceeds to stride regally down the corridor, the edge of his duster fluttering behind him creating that bat-like effect. Ladies and gentleman, droids of all ages, meet Darth Angelus, the proverbial right hand to the Master himself. He's tall, dark and handsome (when he's got his human face), in a sort of annoying kind of way, and his name alone could strike fear into the hearts of the bravest men. No helmet is needed for this former gentleman because 1.) He doesn't need to breathe or help to do so, and 2.) He's constantly in game face, which is scary in its own right.
So scary, in fact, that the instant Angelus is spotted, all the rebel men get immediately out of his way and let him pass. A frightened hush falls over the brave soldiers. The ones whose brains actually work made a run for it.
"Uh. . ." Willow stood about dumbfounded. "Where'd Dawn go?"
Nice observation. The other half of the duo is in an elsewhere part of the hallway, receiving a small card from a mysterious woman.
"Dawn? Dawn!? Dawn, where are you?!"
It didn't take long for the redhead to notice a wisp of the familiar brown hair at the end of one alleyway. The unknown young woman, about twenty years old and very beautiful dressed in majestic white clothing, finishes the card exchange with the younger brunette. Dawn places the card into her jumpsuit pocket. . .
"Jumpsuit! We're wearing jumpsuits?! Oh, you've got to be kidding me!"
Not a word. It's the fashion of outer space and you're just going to have to deal. Would you rather be wearing gold foil like Threepio does?
"I'm liking the jumpsuits."
As I was saying, Dawn placed the card into her jumpsuit pocket and walked back into her elder companion's direction. The woman has unexplainably vanished. . . for the time being.
"Oh, thank goddess. I thought I lost you, Dawnie. . ." Willow motioned her forefinger in the direction of the fighting. "We gotta get the hell out of here! Those vamp troopers are heading our way. We better get out of here or we're gonna have ourselves two nice little neat holes in our necks!"
Dawn seemed not to listen to the warning and runs right past the redhead, darting into another extending corridor.
"Dawn! Where are you going? Get back here!" Willow runs down the same corridor as the teen, calling for her.
*****
Now what has our all-too-happy Angelus been up to in the past few seconds, you ask? Wha-. . . The "angelic" master vampire (not to be confused with the Master) is firmly grasping one of the wounded Rebel soldiers by the neck, cutting off his air supply. Yeesh, I think that's overdoing it a little. Oh, well. He'd argue the whole "evil" clause, so I'll let it go.
A lesser vamp runs to his jet-black clothed master. "The Hell Star plans aren't in the main computer."
Angelus' grip on the soldier's throat gets tighter. "What have you done with those plans you intercepted?" he asks menacingly. His voice, unlike that of Vader's, isn't raspy and muffled by an oxygen tank, but calm yet bone-chillingly terrifying to anyone he has by the throat. When the suffocating soldier doesn't reply the first time, Angelus lifts the man off his feet while still clenching his throat and asks again.
"What have you done with those plans?"
The poor sap is desperately trying to breathe, but to no avail. "We have intercepted no transmissions," the man barely chokes out. "This is. . . a consular ship. We're on a diplomatic mission."
You think Angelus is gonna fall for that one, folks? I'm thinking. . . no.
"Really? If this is a consular ship, where's the ambassador?" the vampire replies in typical vampiric sarcasm. Angelus doesn't let his victim answer, crushes his throat in a series of cracks and snaps, and lets him drop to the ground like a rag doll.
"Um, excuse me? Narrator?"
What's up, Will?
"I know I'm not supposed to talk, more or less even see what's going on right now, but there's something that's bothering me."
Go right on ahead.
"Thanks. Okay, so Angelus grabs the guy by the throat, demands to know where the plans are, doesn't get his answer the way he wants it, and kills the guy before he can get a response. May I be the first to say. . . Huh?"
I can see where you're confused. That always did bother me when Vader did it. Just hold on a moment to figure this one out. . .
"By all means."
Ah-ha! I got it. He does it because it adds to his evilness.
"Adds to his evilness? Yeah, okay. I see that. Thanks."
Don't mention it. Now, just as Angelus drops the man to the ground, he orders his search team to tear the ship apart and bring him the ambassador.
"I want her alive!" he demands. "No snacking!"
Several groans followed the demand, but an animalistic growl from the elder vampire sent them running in all directions to search for the mysterious Princess.
"Why do I even put up with these lackeys?"
Because they serve you like faithful slaves and make great punching bags when you're angry.
"Oh yeah." The evil vampire takes off further down the corridor, his duster billowing dramatically behind.
