Really, half this business is putting a rectangle around things. Put a square around something someone is looking at and he’ll say in surprise, “Oh, how beautiful.” And I don’t think it’s the photographer who provides the square. I do. - David Lean
Tony leaves closing up the front of shop to the droids while he drags the Jedi wanna be into the back. The man is taller and bulkier than he is which makes things more difficult. But it’s hardly the first time Tony’s been stuck dragging dead weight around. Still normally his baggage isn’t of this sort.
Depositing his load onto the worn cot Tony usually frequents Tony lets out a groan. Arms and back already protesting Tony just rolls his shoulders in an attempt to loosen up the muscles. Aches and pains take a backseat when you have business to attend to, and Tony’s well practiced at putting off dealing with them.
The Jedi is still not with the waking world so Tony takes a closer look at him. Not hidden under his cloak hood Tony can’t say he’s any more familiar than hiding beneath the shadow of it. He has a good face, strong jaw and pale features. Handsome and cleaner than most in the scavenging world Tony’s grown accustomed to over the years. It gives the man an incredibly removed air of their current place in the world.
“Not the best at blending in are you pal?” Tony asks the still very unconscious man, expecting no answer.
Though the Jedi’s boots are travel worn, and his cloak starting to fray at the hem he looks too neat. His tunic and belt aren’t patchworks. His hands have low bitten nails but no sand eternally trapped beneath them. His skin isn’t calloused to hold up against the abrasive winds let alone one of the truly wicked sandstorms that whip up out there.
Tony decides to start by taking inventory of the man’s possessions since he doesn’t recognize his face.
The saber on his belt stands out the most. Not everyone would recognize it for what it is, but the polished look of it would draw attention to it. Tony slips that off first and takes a more critical look at it. Not in bad condition over all, but it could use a buffing to deal with the heavy scuffing on the surfaces. He’d need to open it up to see any more than that. Cracked crystals or disrupted circuits tend to be the first signs of damage from use. But there are no more Jedi according to anyone you ask so maybe the man is no more than one more overly sentimental space case. Not the first of them. Tony has seen people collect sabers, repaired a few for displays even. Maybe he’s just from that frame of the world, but he doesn’t look it.
A canteen of water and a share of rations on his belt as well. Tony sets them aside and works the belt free entirely. It’s a single piece and looks well maintained like most of what the Jedi is wearing.
Taking another look at his person though Tony spots the booster holster on his thigh. One quick check on his face to be certain he was still out and Tony unsnapped the holster. With the blaster in hand Tony scoots back and rests his shoulders against the wall behind him that separates the shop front form the workspace.
The blaster is a practically ancient model that Tony hasn’t seen since his childhood. No one uses anything so dated anymore for anything but bragging or historical displays. The weight is correct but the metal of it looks cold damaged, Tony would wager it isn’t worth more than half a dozen shots before it’s too uncomfortable to hold. But Tony turns it over and looks at the bottom of the stock to spot the old Stark logo. The older one his father had used well before Tony had been born. It’s a world different from the old blaster Rhodey still carriers around from Tony’s days. The sentimental jerk won’t trade it in with the claim it’s saved his skin too many times to let go of. Is there any better reason to have kept a relic like this for the Jedi?
Picking himself up Tony carries the blaster over to the workbench to take a better look at what else might be wrong with it. His company is as disarmed as he can get him short of stripping him. Tony might come from a rough part of the galaxy but he isn’t that low.
Tony is settled in and taking the frame apart with care when Dummy rolls in. He just gives the droid a pat for their help with the shop.
“One of you go find Rhodey and let him know someone came looking for him. Tell him to come in the back way. Not draw more attention.” Tony instructs. Dummy chirps and beeps before he’s zooming off, only pausing before the Jedi briefly before following his orders.
The Jedi is still on the cot, arm and leg hanging off from his size. No way could a man nearly twice Tony’s bulk have fit on the cot. But it’s a little amusing. Tony watches him, the rising and falling of his chest before his attention goes back to the blaster.
The casing has taken some temperature based damage. The internal components don’t all look shot but some of them are in dire need of replacement. Tony has enough sitting around that he can do something with it so he starts to it. It’s a better way to kill time until Rhodey shows or his guest wakes up.
“Bucky’s completely oblivious about how Y/N feels, and we
all know that Y/N doesn’t have the guts to ask him out. It’s not going to
You walked into the living room and crossed your arms, a scowl
forming on your face. You had been listening to Natasha, Sam, Clint, and Tony
make bets about when and if you and Bucky would get together for the past five
minutes, and it was an understatement to say that you were pissed. You love life
was not something that they could just bet on. “What the hell is going on here?”
you asked, directing your glare at Tony.
He held his hands up in surrender before pointing at Clint. “It
was his idea.”
The clock in the front room struck one. One am. This was the first time I had noticed the clock, the first time I had become aware of it, and now that I had noticed it, the ticking was pounding in my ears.
I was in an upstairs room of a deserted house at one am in the morning trying to win a bet. My friends Robert and Tony had each wagered one hundred quid each on me spending the night here. I had arrived here about an hour ago, after having a few pints in the local bar, and to win the bet I had to stay here till sunrise, about six hours away. Both my friends were parked outside, listening to the car radio and drinking and generally have a good laugh at my expense, but we would soon see who had the last laugh.
The room I occupied had hardly any furniture; and old bed with a thick drape of cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, almost giving it the impression of a four poster; an old armchair with three legs and a decrepit armchair with horsehair bursting from its seat,but all legs intact, and this is where I would be whiling away the wee hours. There were books scattered all over the floor in various stages of decay, some of the titles legible in the flickering light from the fire I had burning in the old grate.
I pulled the old chair over beside the fire and covered it with pages I ripped from some of the books and sat down to wait out the night. Unknown to the guys in the car, I had a flask of brandy in my jacket pocket to keep the chill away. And the spooks. Then a warning light lit up in my head! This house had been abandoned for years, maybe even decades, so how the hell was the clock still chiming and ticking?
I got up and went over to have a closer look at the clock; a big Grandfather clock standing in the corner, and it was no antique. In fact it was brand spanking new, a cheap imitation. Just as I was about to go back to my chair, something glinted in the gloom, caught my eye.I took out my flash light to get a better look, and, woe and behold, I saw a small camera, like one you would put on your desk top for Skyping. “ So this is their game “, I thought, “ well I could play that way too”.So, my head working overtime, I went back to my chair, wondering what else they had in store for me.
I did not have too long to wait!
A loud creaking, like a door that had not been opened in years, assailed my ears. “ What to do? “ I asked myself. I was hoping they had not seen me when I discovered the camera, I wanted to put on a show fro them. A show they would never forget.
Trying not to be too obvious, I got up to “ investigate “ the creaking. Straight off, I spotted the small speaker, a corner of it showing through the tangle of discarded books, and I was fairly sure I had exposed it myself when ripping out pages to cover my chair. I steered myself away from the speaker, and I could see a wire, snaking along the wall and disappearing out the room door. They had done a good job and if I had not noticed the camera earlier, I would never have found the speaker and would more than likely be racing down the stairs and out into the arms of my laughing comrades.
Another though struck me; they were inside the house.Robert and Tony were inside the house! They had to be! Or else they had a mile of speaker cable with them. No, they were inside somewhere, watch me on their lap-top. As this little piece of information was being digested, I realized I was now in a position to turn the tables on them.
There was piece of old rope in the corner. I gathered up the rope and fastened it into a noose, pulled the chair into the center of the room and reached up and tied the other end of the rope to the rickety light fixture. I knew by looking at this that it would fall, break off, with only a slight pull, there was no way it could take all my weight. Taking care to make sure the camera would record my every action, I stood on the hair and placed the noose around my neck.
Surely this was the cue for Robert and Tony to come scampering up the stairs and save me from self destruction, rescue me from myself. My ears were straining, listening for the sound of scampering and pounding feet on the stairway. But no! Nothing! Not a sound.
“ Okay “ I thought, “ lets bring it a step further “. I kicked the chair out from under my feet, and for the longest few seconds of my life, I thought the light fixture was going to hold my weight. And then I was falling. As soon as I hit the ground I rolled, the light fixture crashing into the ground where my head had been only a fraction of a second earlier, and immediately began chiding myself for carrying out this dangerous prank .
Still no sign of my companions, I switched on my torch and began to trace the cable down to its point of origin. Across the upstairs hall, down the creaky stairs, brushing cobwebs from my hair, shivers working their way down my back. Still following the cable, along the downstairs hallway to a door beneath the stairs. I pulled the door open.Fast! Hoping to scare the daylights out of my friends. But instead I found myself looking down another stairway, this one of stone.
A rank, reeking stench assailed my nose, my eyes started to leak water, there was a putrid, foul gas in the air, the stink of death, mingled with the noxious fumes of ammonia.I could see the cable clearly now, no need to conceal it down here. I called out to them.
“ Robert! Tony! “. No answer. Again, “ Robert! Tony!”. Again, silence met my frantic calls. I took my first tentative step into that foul hole. First one cold stone step, then another. With each step the temperature fell, though sweat was rolling down my spine and standing out on my forehead.
I reached the bottom, shone my torch around and almost bolted at once.
Robert was swinging from a rafter that travailed the whole length of the cellar, his eyes bulging, his face a dark purple, froth dripping, froth that was more blood than froth, dripping from his open mouth. I swung the torch around, and there was Tony, propped up in the corner like a mannequin, his eyes staring blindly at some spot above my head, and, where his mouth should have been, a gaping smile spread across his entire face, slashed the whole way across, his lower lip and teeth, resting on his blood soaked chest.
I turned and ran. I don’t know how long I could have been down there, for five minutes or five seconds. I was not sure which. I just ran.
Today I woke up and immediately started screaming and shouting, crying for my friends. They sedated me. Put me in one of those jackets that ties at the back.
And no one believes me when I tell them what happened. All I know is I woke up in a hospital. Not a normal hospital; an asylum. They tell me I have been here for over five years. They say I killed my two best friends. They tell me I am evil incarnate. They say I will never be released, such was the savagery of my crime.
But you know better! You know the truth!
You must go to the Police, to the doctors and tell them all you know.