Welcome to, Chaos On Deck Part II...
You know the spiel, I do not own Star Wars, Darth Vader, Emperor Palpatine, The Stormtroopers, the Death Star, these are all copyrights of LucasFilm Ltd. I also do not own any other references in the RP such as Charlie Brown. As this is a spoof things are going to happen in extremely bizarre ways and totally different from the story line.
This spoof in particular is taken from a roleplay the people listed below and I did on , a few days ago and is technically a continuation of Part I. Now on to the participaters...
Marly_Hugo35 (Me) - Darth Vader, Sam, Frank, Josie, Other Extras
bugsbunny7117 - Chef
mara_jade_red_5 - Briar
rose101364 - Barnabus The Stormtrooper and Mr. Wilkins The Demented Janitor (OC's)
This installment is extra special because it has a cliffhanger and will be coming in two parts. Also, we're working on another plot which will be up as soon as possible which is the first off Death Star RP yet, it will be occurring on (SPOILER) Ya... Nope, no spoilers, you'll have to find out for yourself...
Well, you know what to do, enjoy the story and please rate and comment...
It was a beautiful day on the Death Star Vr. 78.2843, which now coasted over the bogs of Endor in it's 34/67 finished condition. Now as everyone knows, Tech Support is one of the most crucial things in the universe, it is no different for the Empire. Day after Day, bright young Stormtroopers wake up and go to work in the Tech Support Deck. Here they help other, seemingly useless, Stormtroopers learn how to properly use the technology they are exposed to everyday in this new age. Today's story follows the lives of these young troopers and the lives they affect...
Samuel, (A.K.A. - TK-2449) walked into the Tech Support Deck on the Death Star Vr. 78.2843 and took his seat at the long line of telephones and hologram projector's. Placing his bag on the table he removed two things, an Extra Large Super Mocha Chocolate Whipped Cappuccino Deluxe and his copy of "Chart-Topping Elevator and Hold Music of the 2060's and 70's" which he promptly placed in the disc tray before putting on his headphones and activating his line, "Hello, Imperial Tech Support, my name is Sam, might I ask your affiliation and problem? Also, what' your favorite type of pie?..." there was no response, but some deep mechanical breathing followed by laughter and the sound of a phone be slammed back onto it's holder. "How rude," Sam exclaimed as he took another call.
Briar hurried into the tech support room and took her place at the biggest desk on the tallest platform. "Attention people! As the youngest person ever to rule the Tech Support Deck I would like to say that I hate Luke Skywalker. Thank you, " she exclaimed before she sat down.
The Chef ducked as another pan nearly hit him in the head, he quickly dialed the phone, "Hello Tech support!"
"You got me." said Briar lazily into the phone.
"Hello, Imperial/Rebel Tech Support. How might help you today?," Sam answered the phone as he pushed several buttons that he had no idea what they did. Suddenly a loud alarm blared and a voice over the P.A. announced the following, "ATTENTION, SAM'S NOT HERE RIGHT NOW, COMMUNITY SERVICE OR SOMETHING, BUT BE ADVISED THAT THE ENTIRE SUPPLY OF GUAVAS HAS BEEN EVACUATED, THANK YOU." "Yes, is your refrigerator running?," a crackly, aged voice said on the other end. "Emperor Palpatine?," Sam asked. "NO!," the voice replied before Sam was forcefully shocked and the dial tone picked up.
The Chef went right to the point, "MY OVEN JUST EXPLODED WE NEED HELP!"
"Have you tried the new raccoon flavored soda in the basement? I hear it's refreshing." replied Briar.
The Chef was flabbergasted enough as it was, "SODA POP? ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING! MY OVEN EXPLODED, IT'S ON FIRE AND DUE TO CUTBACKS WE DON'T HAVE AN EXTINGUISHER!"
"RING, RING, Imperial Tech Sup...," Samuel answered the phone before stopping when he heard the familiar mechanical breathing of Lord Vader, "Lord Vader, so nice to hear from you." "Samuel? Why is my entire collection of guavas shaped like Nabooian Queens floating off into the vast blackness that is space?" "Um... Did you get the cookies I sent?," Samuel said before the phone clicked and the man beside him, let's call him Jim, choked slightly before falling out of his seat. The empty seat was filled instantly by Phil as Jim disappeared into "THE TUBE OF DEMISE!" Sam blinked before answering another call, "Imperial Tech Support?" "Did I just Force-Choke you?" "Yes...," Sam answered his Dark Lord. "Gooood, click."
The Chef stood silent as he waited for a reply... "Hello? HELLO! GAH!" he slammed the phone down and dialed it again, hoping to get someone else this time.
"Hello, Imperial/Rebel Tech support, how may I help you?," Sam answered the Chef's call, "My name is Sam, what's your favorite pie and if you could please fill out the survey being printed on your phone right now, we'll get back to you as soon as possible, please hold..."
Silently the chef thanked heaven above, Sam was good, Sam knew what he was- wait what? "NO NO SAM! NO I CAN'T HOLD! My Oven is BURNING! FLAMES ARE DEVOURING MY KITCHEN!"
"Well Chef, I'm not in charge of that department, if you'll please hold I'll connect you to Frank, he'll tell you everything you need to know...," Sam replied as he pushed a button and the hold music flooded the Chef's phone before another trooper picked up the line. "Hello, Imperial Fire and Water Department of Support, how may I help you?"
"MY KITCHEN'S ON FIRE and I- OH NO! NOT MAX!," The chef set down the phone and rushed to the youngest kitchen staff member, "Max! Max! SPEAK to me man!
He rushed back to the phone, "And also send the doctor!"
"O.k., I'm sending down Fire Control, they'll put out your fire, can you please give me your location before I connect you to Josie at the Department of 9-1-1?," Frank said as he turned slightly to the right to a large horn shaped device and pushed a button, "FIRE CONTROL TO THE...WELL WAIT JUST A MOMENT..." "What was your location again?," he asked the Chef.
"The kitchen! There's only one! Right next to the cafeteria, can't miss it!" The Chef was in a panic, he'd pulled Max away form the fire, but the flames were still creeping in around them, and the kitchen staff were growing progressively closer and more claustrophobic.
Briar sighed as she heard sirens. "Don't they know they can just turn off something?" yelled Briar.
"O.k. sir, yelling will help nothing, please remain calm and I'll patch you through to Josie," Frank said as a slight beep rang out before Josie picked up the phone. "HOWDY! Name's Josie Fiddleglump, how might I be of service to ya?"
Meanwhile, Fire Control raced through the halls towards the kitchen. Suddenly they stopped, this was the eighth room they tried it better be right...
The Chef tried to calm himself, he was right yelling wouldn't help, it would only add to the panic, "You're right I'm sorry," h said before he was suddenly on Josie's line, "we've got an injured soldier, badly burned and unconscious."
"O.k., o.k., now listen very carefully," Josie said as she pulled out a manual, "O.k., did you activate the Anti-Burn Milk Sprinklers?"
At that moment Fire Control broke through the door and watermelon juice went everywhere, "JERRY! I TOLD YOU TO HOOK UP THE WATER! NOT THE WATERMELON JUICE!" "Sorry," replied the trooper as he switched the connection on the wall and threw the switch which sent clean water rushing down the hose.
The Chef outright dropped the phone as he watched Fire Control work, he was a bit shocked, and didn't move very much, but slowly, though no one could see it, relief was creeping into the flabbergasted man.
The Fire Captain, let's call him Jonah, twirled the nozzle on his finger as the flames disappeared finally and Jerry rolled up the hose causing him to be yanked back through the door and disappear with the other members of Fire Control, "I'll be back to take photos with anyone who wants them, I HAVE A PEN FOR AUTOGRAPHS!," he called back as their golf cart hit a wall. Scattering Fire Control personel in all directions, some right into the garbage disposal.
"Sir? Sir?," the phone asked from it's location on the floor.
The Chef, VERY much relieved, along with the rest of the kitchen staff, now that the flames were out, slowly picked up the phone, "Hello? Oh yes the milk sprinklers, well yes...umm you see... Well I've been meaning to call about them too, I'm fairly sure they've soured..."
A familiar looking stormtrooper who, for some odd reason, was wearing a cape, rushed into the room. "DID SOMEONE SAY, 'CLEANING EMERGENCY'?" yelled Barnabus, striking a self important pose. "Stop it! It's too much!" groaned Wilkins, wheeling his janitorial cart in. The old man took one look at the room, and promptly wheeled his cart back out.
The Chef turned to Wilkins, he was one of the very few that had no fear of the old man, "HEY! You get your cleanly butt back in here, I'm not fixing all this by myself." He turned back to the phone quietly.
"O.k., well that truly is a problem, let me call Alejandro's name and he'll come down to run maintenance, in the meantime activate your Cheese Sprinklers and set them to puree, that should help Max out quite a lot, please hold." "Ba, ba-dada bum bum bum bum, ba, ba-dada daaaa!," came the music over the phone as Josie redirected the call to Sam. "Hello, Imperial Tech Support, how may I help you?"
The Chef was merely confused now, he wasn't aware that any cheese sprinklers had ever been installed, "Sam? Where can I find the cheese sprinkler button?"
Mr. Wilkins, however, had gone back to his supply closet to nap. "Never fear, Mr. Chef!" exclaimed Barnabus, "I'll go get the windex!" he dashed out of the room, his long purple cape flying behind him.
"Uh, Barnabus I don't think…," it was too late, the loopy trooper was gone. The chef sighed heavily, put the phone back to where his ear was, even though it was inside a helmet, and surveyed the damage himself... it was a mess to say the least. The entire room was now charred rubble, the fridge, the islands, the counters, the pots and pans, all of them gone, completely unsalvageable...but he did have ONE hope at least...IF he could get Vader to go for it... For now he held onto the line and waited for Sam, Max needed helping before anyone else.
"Now that depends Mr. Chef, can I call you Chef, or maybe just Mr., perhaps Che, do you have the 3010 model emergency panel or the 3011?," Sam said as he wrote something down on a piece of paper, "Also, what's a five letter word for Sith Lord?"
"Vader, and also..." He looked around at the blackened walls "I can't tell... it all sort of looks like charcoal now..."
Barnabus ran back into the room, dragging a sleeping Mr. Wilkins by the cranium. "Hey, Mr. Chef? I think he's dead." Barnabus dropped the old man's head, and kicked him. Mr. Wilkins didn't respond. "See?" the trooper sighed, "And he was the only one who knew where the Windex was.."
The Chef tilted his head, "But Barnabus he's SNORING..."
"Uh-huh," Sam said as he scribbled down the word in his puzzle, "O.k., now is it a light gray charcoal, dark black, or kind of a motor oil that's been left out for while and looks kinda like chocolate syrup, yet slightly darker, more like molasses?," Sam asked as he scanned his paper, "Also, four letter word for living teddy bears; found on Endor?"
"Ewok, and BLACK! I mean black as pitch- I mean blackened charcoal!" He corrected himself quickly, he didn't want to make the situation any more confusing than it already was...
Barnabus tilted his head to the side, staring at Mr. Wilkins, "Well then... He still won't tell me where the Windex is." "In the... basement." muttered Wilkins, turning over.
The Chef nodded to Barnabus, "Well there you go, but I still don't think Windex is really going to help the situation Barny..."
"Oh, well that's the 3020 model, I had no idea we had anything that advanced around here, I mean 3015 maybe, but nothing so recent," he said scribbling down the word and flipping through his book, "O.k., go to the door and press the triangle shaped button, that should activate the cheese sprinklers." He waited a moment before adding, "Oh, and a eight letter word for Death Star Test Planet?"
The Cheff stopped and blinked, "...I have no idea..." Hd walked to the door and did as he was told, and was rellieved yet again when melty cheese began falling from the ceiling. "Thanks Sam."
"No problem, if you have no more questions I'll disconnect now, good-bye, click," Sam said before he removed the headphones before returning to his normal job on the Imperial Emergency and Mole-People Alert Station, "ATTENTION! THE KITCHEN HAS RECENTLY BEEN BLACKENED, AND NO, CHEF DID NOT BURN IN THE FIRE, HE IS ALIVE AND WELL AND WORKING TO GET DINNER ON THE TABLE, THANK YOU!"
The Chef pressed down the hang up button on the phone, and dialed Darth Vader's office, dinner was in three hours, he'd have to work fast.
"Hello, you have reached the office of (Here Darth Vader replaced the computer voice) Darth Vader (Here the computer returned to his, her, it's classic monotone voice) If you would like to be Force Choked press 1 now, if you would like to report a failure to comply with Imperial standards press 2 now, if you would like to discuss dinning plans for this evening press 3 now, if your name is Barnabus, hang up now or press 1."
Barnabus leapt up, suddenly very excited, "OH BOY! I'VE GOT A NUMBER?," he dashed over to the Chef, grabbed the phone from his hands and begun to press 1, over and over and over again.
"NO BARNABUS NO!," The Cheff hung up the phone and redialed, pressing three this time.
Barnabus pouted, "But, I wanted to know what my number would have said..." he glanced back at the Windex. Mr. Wilkins had curled around it, and was hugging it, as if it were a teddy bear.
The Chef waited impatiently for a response, but he did spare a glance down at Wilkins and couldn't hold in an, "Awww..."
"You have selected three, this choice indicates that you wish to talk with Sir Dark Lord Vader about dinner plans tonight, am I correct?," the voice said in a smooth monotone, "If you would like to take Lord Vader out to lunch press 1 now, if you have a nice sit-down dinner planned press 2 now. If your kitchen just burned down and you need help press 3 now. If this is Barnabus, press 4 and see what happens go on, do it, you know you want to, just press it, you won't spontaneously explode or anything, mwahahaha, (I think it is crucial that the reader knows that the evil laugh just made was as monotone as an adult in Charlie Brown) if this is not not Barnabus press 5, and watch sparks fly!"
The Chef almost wanted to let Barnabus press four... and he was tempted to press five, but he knew he shouldn't do either... so he waited a moment to see what happened.
Barnabus's eyes grew wide, "H-h-he's gonna make me explode?" the Stormtrooper muttered.
The Chef decided that it might be best just to press three, so he did so and waited for whatever came next.
"You have pushed the number three, this indicates that your kitchen just burnt down and you wish to ask Lord Vader for help or that you have a slight tendency to pressing three and should be recommended to a mental help organization immediately, we recommend Dr. Fragglehorn," the voice said, "Now, press 1 if you really, really desperately need Lord Vader, press 2 if you apparently dialed the wrong number and need to be connected to Fire proofing Your Body 4-1-1. Press 3 now, if you are Barnabus, I promise you won't burst into flames, or asplode, or, Force forbid, fall into the main reactor like Charles and Nate, press 4 and you will receive a delicious cookie cake, jk, jk, there's no cake, but are you surprised that we here at The Dark Side lied?"
The Chef pressed 1 quickly, he was feeling a bit of pity on Barnabus, and didn't want to scare him...or worse, let him press the button...
"Thank you, but Darth Vader's not in his office at the moment, you can contact him on his helmet phone at 1-800-DARK-LORD-AWESOME!, exclamation point included, thank you and good night, click," the voice answered before the line went dead and a loud screeching sound filled the air.
"GAAAAHHHH!" The Chef rapidly dialed the helmet phone, he didn't have TIME for this. Dinner was now in TWO hours!
Barnabus, who had activated his Eavesdropper 500, let out a scream, falling to the floor, hugging his feet to his chest. "So. Loud." the Stormtrooper murmured, shivering, from across the room. Mr. Wilkins groaned, and kicked the windex.
"Hello, Dark Lord Vader," Darth Vader answered as he walked along towards the cafeteria with his lobster bib on, "If this is Chef I do hope the lobster's done, if not, I might just have to Force choke some random extra in the background of the cafeteria."
The Chef gulped, "Well... about that..." He dared not delay any longer, so he blurted out the rest of his message as fast as he could, "The kitchen's burned down and I actually need a team of engineers and 6000 credits!"
A loud audible click could be heard across the phone as Vader's jaw hit the bottom part of his helmet, this was closely followed by a painful groan and sporadic mechanical breathing, "Wh-what? S-s-sixty th-thousand cr-credits?." Then he calmed down, "O.k., I'll get it to you immediately, no delay, in fact, I'm in the area now, why don't I stop by and help?"
At this Barnabus screamed and dove /underneath/ the counter, "DON'TLETHIMHURTMEPLEASE!" he yelled.
Ooooooooo, CLIFFHANGER!
What will happen next?
Will Vader actually help?
Will dinner be ready on time?
Will Vader kill Barnabus?
What about this new plot, where is it at?
THe answers to these and more in the next installment...
Rate, comment, review...