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Anger Her, You Must Not

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This story is No. 3 in the series "The Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: If there was anything faster than light, it had to be Andrew’s ecstatic realization of just where they were now. For Faith, that was okay enough, but not when her (ugh!) game partner started to lose it… No. 2 of August Fic-A-Day.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Star Wars > General(Current Donor)ManchesterFR1813,369071,8922 Aug 122 Aug 12Yes
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and Star Wars characters are the property of their original owners.

‘Kay, it was ‘bout time to pass onto fan-boy here the facts of life between themselves for the next twenty-four hours.

In a very calm voice holding within this the promise of unimaginable death and destruction, Faith Lehane now explained to Andrew Wells, “Lissen, dickwad, it ain’t like I woke up this mornin’ in a mood to seriously wet my panties just ‘cuz today was gonna be what Red called the Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt when she sprung it onta us. I didn’t wanna be in this fuckin’ stupid game in the first fuckin’ place, but now I’m playin’, there ain’t no way anyone else is gonna beat me, ya hear? An’ that includes bein’ teamed up with someone with alla the survival instincts and street smarts of a goddamn stuffed teddy bear.”

Taking a quick moment to study how the specific shade of light puce on Andrew’s face was presently deepening into a dark magenta color, Faith decided it couldn’t hurt to deliver some more warnings to make her team partner behave. Well, except for the possibility of a few million oxygen-deprived brain cells swiftly dying off inside Mr. Dork’s head, but it wasn’t like she actually cared about this.

Continuing to clamp shut Andrew’s throat in her crushing Slayer grip, Faith briskly spoke into this young man’s glazed stare, “So, here’s the deal. Ya do anythin’ to attract attention, like geekin’ out over where we are now, for two cents or what passes for pocket change in this place, I’ll sell ya inta slavery here. Then, I’ll leave yer ass behind for fun an’ games with the weirdo alien buyer I unloaded ya on as yer new master. Got alla that?”

From where her fingers were buried in the flesh of his neck, Faith eased up slightly her strangling clutch on Andrew’s throat. Even with her heightened hearing, she just barely heard from him a feeble, “…ysssss…”

Well, hey, looks like it can learn.

Abruptly releasing her grip, Faith ignored how Andrew then limply fell flat onto his face onto the noisome alley ground. Stalking over to lean against an adobe-like building wall, the Slayer pulled out one of the half-dozen knives hidden under her clothing. She spent the next minute or so using this weapon’s needle point to blithely clean under her fingernails.

In due course, Andrew regained his breath, so that instead of wheezing it, he then happily burbled while still lying on his stomach, “I still can’t believe we’re really here on Tatooine, and our next stop’s the Mos Eisley Cantina!”

Somehow managing to forget everything in the last couple of minutes which had been painfully inflicted upon him, the supreme Star Wars fan now lifted his head to unabashedly grin at Faith across the alley rolling her eyes in sheer exasperation.

Why her? Who’d she piss off lately to get stuck with somebody damn sure gonna be a real pain in the butt for the whole game?

Several moments later, in a wretched hive of scum and villainy, the current occupants of this desert planet bar paused in their nefarious affairs when the front entrance panel slid open. A small figure swaggered inside, to then take a quick step to the right, putting their back against the wall and preventing themselves from being outlined against the brightness of the still-open entranceway. In a casual yet meaningful gesture, the visitor’s hand now fell upon the hilt of a bladed weapon attached to their belt, and drew this just a fraction out of the scabbard, far enough to show a bright and very sharp edge. Reassured that this latest patron knew the proper etiquette, the other customers went back to their usual criminal plotting. Until, the next visitor showed up.

Lurching into the entranceway and stopping right there, another and somewhat taller figure imprudently goggled around in the absolute stillness which had abruptly descended throughout the entire cantina. A low murmur then arose, composed of various alien languages, all of which were gloatingly expressing exactly the same thing: “Fresh meat!”

Glaring at the bar’s clientele, who were each and every one of them in turn beadily eyeing the person behind the first figure, this individual reached out with a free limb to firmly grasp one of the second figure’s aural protrusions. Keeping a determined grip onto this part of their companion’s body while towing that unfortunate being after them, the smaller figure paid no attention to the continuous, high-pitched sounds being produced by the other, as they headed towards an unoccupied corner booth.

At last seated together, Andrew angrily rubbed at his aching ear, and forgot himself to go as far as growling at Faith warily studying the bizarro dudes around them, “You didn’t have to do that! I wasn’t finished with classifying the crowd--”

Still not looking at her game partner, Faith snarled back just as irritably, “Who gives a fuck? Me an’ just ‘bout everyone in this place, ‘cept you, is either some kinda nasty piece a’ work, or wants ta be one. Anyhow, we ain’t here to do nothin’ but what Red laid out in her li’l book.”

With that, the Slayer absently patted the lump in her jeans pocket, where she’d put this magical object right before entering the cantina. Before she could say anything else, Andrew now produced a truly unique noise composed of a half-yelp, half-gurgle.

“What? What?” anxiously demanded Faith, whipping her head around to stare at where Andrew’s slack-jawed face was disbelievingly gawking at across the center area of the cantina. Following his gaze, Faith promptly developed her very own incredulous look, to then choke out, “That can’t be Harri--”

“No,” dazedly interrupted Andrew, “not the actor. It’s the original character, Han Solo himself, with Chewbacca.”

Both New Council members then fell silent, while they continued to watch in utter fascination at the young man with quite familiar features idly conversating with an enormous and extremely furry creature sharing a table with this human. Leaning back in his chair, the unaware pilot of the Millennium Falcon sipped from a container cradled in one hand.

Observing that, Faith’s eyes narrowed in sudden thought. She then glanced around the room, before spotting something or other standing a few yards away, who with their very posture announced itself as nothing else than a servitor. Waving her hand in the general direction of the what-is-it, the Slayer caught this strange being’s attention, resulting in it shuffling over to their booth. Looking up into an unearthly set of features, Faith pointed at the male human across the room, and she carefully spoke, “We’ll have two of what he’s drinking, thanks.”

Their servitor stood motionless for several seconds, before swaying its upper body from side to side once. Then, it turned around and slowly headed towards the main bar. Watching this, Faith heard Andrew whisper curiously, “What’re you doing?”

Glancing over at where her companion was staring in puzzlement, the young woman succinctly replied, “Orderin’. ’Member what Red told us to do, in the book? We gotta take from this place a couple glasses or what else they’re gonna serve our drinks in. But it ain’t likely they’ll have any booze here like other bars pour out back home -- beer, Scotch, whatever. So, it just makes sense ta ask for what we can see some other guy puttin’ down.”

“Good idea,” Andrew said admiringly.

Faith only smirked at him, before they both took note of their servitor back again and placing on their table two completely prosaic drinking glasses. However, these were filled to the brim with something far less mundane. Without any further interaction, the alien attendant then wandered off, leaving Faith and Andrew both dubiously regarding the bubbling, purplish fluid in the glasses. For once acting sensibly, Andrew right away declared, “You first.”

Casting a disdainful glare at her game partner innocently gazing off into the distance, Faith shrugged, and then the Slayer grabbed her glass. Bringing this up to her nose, she cautiously sniffed at the surface of the liquid there, muttering under her breath, “There’s some kinda alcohol in there -- fermented vegetable, I think -- but one I ain’t had a whiff of before. Nothin’ seems hinky, so…down the hatch.” In one quick motion, Faith tossed back the entire glassful.

Andrew regarded with alarm an abruptly-still woman, who’d also developed a supremely blank expression upon her beautiful face. After a few more seconds of total immobility, Faith’s right eyebrow quivered several times. Next, her lips opened for the appreciative Slayer to hoarsely growl, “Smoooooth.”

Giving his own glass a considering stare, Andrew reached out for this, only to have it swiftly removed from the tabletop in a blur of superhuman speed before his fingers even touched the glass. Shaking her head at Andrew’s outraged look, Faith took a long sip from the drink she’d just stolen from him. Before the geek exploded, the Slayer warned, “Unless ya recently turned in yer stomach for a new, steel-lined belly, it ain’t a good idea for anyone but me ta guzzle this stuff. That Han guy, he musta built up a helluva tolerance, but ya ain’t in his league.”

“Yeah, okay,” sulkily agreed Andrew. This Sunnydale survivor did brighten up a little bit after saying this, due to being reminded once more of exactly of where he was, only a few yards away from one of his childhood heroes. A fleeting thought of going right over there and maybe asking for an autograph was quickly quashed at the horrific image of what Faith would do to him for even suggesting it, much less daring this. But, darn it, he’d like to have some sort of souvenir of his visit to the Mos Eisley Cantina besides just a glass-- Wait a minute!

Faith was enjoying the warmth spreading out in all directions from the center of her body to pay all that much attention to Andrew squirming around at her side. Only when the last drops of purple booze had trickled down her throat and she put the empty glass back onto the tabletop to join its consumed comrade, did the Slayer glance over, and she instantly reverted back into total sobriety. This meant instead of bellowing at the top of her lungs, she merely hissed harshly in her utter shock, “What the fuck are ya doin’?!”

Intently watching, all while keeping his folded hands around the video camera resting on the table’s edge and pointing directly at Han Solo and Chewbacca across the room, Andrew shortly replied, “What do you think? I’m not going to pass up the chance of getting this on tape!”

Her frantic gaze darting around the entire cantina filled with alien lawbreakers plotting together, Faith stated menacingly, “Ya pull out a recordin’ device in a place like this an’ get caught, ya better hope they’re in a hurry, and just kill ya quick! Goddamn it, put the fuckin’ thing away!”

To preoccupied with their sudden squabble to notice how two new visitors had entered the cantina and passed by their table to then become involved in their own confrontation at the main bar, Andrew vowed with implacable determination to an angry Faith, “You’ll have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands!”

“Sounds like a plan,” snarled back Faith, not caring how many people here were gonna see her shoving that camera up where the sun didn't shine. However, before this proctological procedure could indeed come to pass, both New Council members abruptly flinched at the sounds of swift violence from elsewhere. Swiveling their heads in tandem, a shocked Faith and Andrew now stared at Obi-Wan Kenobi standing over two dead bodies and calmly turning off his lightsaber, before rejoining Luke Skywalker at the main bar.

Despite turning pale, Andrew continued to steadfastly film what happened next as a Jedi and the son of Darth Vader went over to join Han Solo and Chewbacca at their table, while Faith just slumped back in the booth, trying to figure out what to do next. It wasn’t until she heard from her side the recital by Andrew of such classic lines as “It's the ship that made the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs!” that the Slayer felt herself starting to recover from her daze. Faith was helped along in this by her growing annoyance over having to endure every word spoken over there also being ineptly repeated by someone with her knowing this movie dialogue by heart, without also possessing any trace whatsoever of acting talent.

She soon sent an evil glower at where an unaware Andrew was still elatedly observing everything, while also continuing to film it all. The brunette woman cynically thought, *Wonder how many versions of this scene that dorkman’s gonna release, just like his big idol.*

Trying to remember from Star Wars what was specifically going to next occur in the cantina, an alarmed expression then flashed over Faith’s countenance. Leaning over to give Andrew a forceful jab in the ribs with a sharp fingernail, Faith was rewarded by a stifled yelp from him, accompanied by an irate glare delivered in her direction. The Slayer didn’t care. Before Andrew could say anything, he instead heard from his companion, “C’mon, time ta haul ass. I ain’t gonna use Red’s book to vanish us outta here in front a’ everybody, so we need ta find someplace private. Get up, an’ let’s go.”

“But we can’t leave yet!” a horrified Andrew protested. Jerking his head over at where the four science-fiction legends were finishing their discussion, an obsessed fan declared, “I have to get on tape the meeting between Han and Greedo the bounty hunter, to settle for once and all who shoots first!”

Her face turning even grimmer, Faith simply nodded towards where four Imperial stormtroopers in their white armor had just entered the cantina and were looking around. Hearing an actual gulp from Andrew at seeing this, Faith grunted, “Damn straight. I been rousted by the cops plenty of times, an’ I ain’t eager ta do it again in this fleapit, with no way ta explain ta them who we are. They round us up, we’ll sure as hell be in deep shit. Nah, much smarter ta just split early, an’ if ya give me any more lip, I’ll drag ya off by yer tongue. Comprende?”

Correctly figuring she meant every word of it, a wide-eyed Andrew gave several hasty nods. Satisfied, Faith collected the empty glasses from the tabletop and she surreptitiously placed them inside Willow’s magical book. Longingly gazing at where the stormtroopers were talking with the bartender, a very reluctant Andrew then put away in his pocket the video camera. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, the New Council duo eased from their booth. Faith didn’t think it’d be a good idea to leave by the front door, what with maybe more of those stormtrooper guys out there, so she headed deeper into the cantina, looking for some back way out. Andrew obediently trailed along after Faith.

The pair soon found themselves in a building service corridor clearly not intended for customer use. Stopping in front of another sliding door at the end of this, Andrew peered over Faith’s shoulder while the Slayer examined the wall switches for this portal. A couple of experimental pokes on this opened the door, only to reveal a very small and bare room, with another door at the far side of the cramped space. Barely squeezing together inside the room with Andrew pressing against her back, Faith fruitlessly tried to open the second door, with her temper beginning to rise after every failure.

At last bringing back a leg to give this stubborn panel a damned good kicking, the brunette woman heard Andrew apologetically breathe into her ear, “Uh, Faith, the Star Wars Guidebook says that most above-ground Mos Eisley buildings have vestibules with double doors like this to keep out dust from the sandstorms. We have to shut the inside door first to open the other one.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Faith both saw and felt Andrew twist around to hit the correct switch to close the ajar inner door. An instant later, the Slayer heard the door before her open, and she looked back, only to see standing outside in front of the door another four-man Imperial stormtrooper squad in their white armour, and all of them were now pointing their weapons directly at the revealed woman.

For a fraction of a moment, everyone there was part of a frozen tableau, which would’ve normally ended in a quick brawl of absolute carnage. However, something else completely absurd now occurred instead, as a certain person yelled as loudly as he could, “WOW, THAT’S DARTH VADER BACK THERE, DRESSED IN A BRIGHT PINK OUTFIT!”

Unable to stop themselves, the squad of soldiers simultaneously swiveled in their protective suits to peer down the totally deserted alley, where they’d been stationed to stop any possible escapees. All of these stormtroopers now heard the door behind them whoosh shut. Spitting out a vile curse, the squad leader hit the override switch on his in-suit computer, and with a trigger finger tightening on his blaster rifle, he spun back around to point this gun right towards at the once-more open doorway at the inside of the vestibule. Which, at this exact moment, was now completely empty of two people there, who in no way could’ve gotten through the inner door already. It was almost like they’d vanished into thin air…

“Where’d they go?” heard the squad leader over his communicator from one of his baffled troops.

Lowering his rifle, the sergeant in charge of their small cohort just resignedly hit the door switch again. Settling back into guard position in front of this shut exit, the squad leader curtly announced, “Doesn’t matter. We didn’t see anyone, nobody heard anything, and we don’t talk about this, ever.

“But we’ve got to report--” confusedly came from the same other guy, who still didn’t get it.

In a tight voice which showed he was barely keeping his temper under control, the squad leader gritted, “Did either of those people who weren’t here look anything like who we were supposed to detain?”

“Um, no.”

Nodding inside his all-over helmet, the squad leader then patiently asked the most important questions of them all, “Knowing that, do you think it’s such a good idea to pass further up to our supervisors exactly what you heard a minute ago? How that made you -- all of us -- look? And just how long it’d take for the story to get back to one specific person? Not to mention what he’d then do to us--”

“How’s that? Sorry, sergeant, my comm went on the blink again, like it’s been doing all day. Got the same problem with my optics. Guess I better get this seen to when we return to the barracks.”

“Me too, sarge.”

“Same here.”

Elsewhere in an entirely different dimension, Faith continued to hold Willow’s opened book in both hands. Not yet looking down at the magical object which she’d frantically yanked out of her pocket moments before, the Slayer simply stared ahead for a while. At last, she sighed, “Okay, Andrew, I gotta say two things. First, that was one helluva diversion, and I haveta thank ya for it. Second, I never, ever wanna know just why ya said it at all.”

Giving a convulsive, all-over shudder, Faith then turned around to regard this named individual, who was gazing around in utter delight at the sleek, futuristic building corridor which they were now occupying. Giving her oblivious team partner a puzzled look over why he wasn’t presently paying any attention to the woman with him, Faith then actually read what was written on the new pages of Willow’s guide to the Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt.

An extremely terse, “Oh, fuck,” was Faith’s sole reaction, before slipping the small book back into her pants pocket, and once more grabbing Andrew by his throat. Time again for another little chat with the geek…

The End

You have reached the end of "Anger Her, You Must Not". This story is complete.

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