Notes: Metalocalypse/Star Wars crossover
Disclaimer: I own none of this
Summary: Where did Charles get the torture device he uses on Dr. Rockzo? Very simple answer.
The hallway was long, gray metal buffed to a high gloss. Readout panels every few meters blinked red and green sensor lights. Charles Ofedensen made a show of looking disinterested, flanked on either side by armed, armored soldiers. He still took in every detail, though, every floor panel, every recessed light. He had never been here before, and he needed to be alert. The man he was going to meet had a certain reputation, after all, and Charles needed to make sure he'd be able to get away clean if the need arose.
At the end of the hallway was a door, another white-armored soldier on either side, standing at attention. The soldiers escorting Charles nodded in unison, and the door slid open.
The hulking figure stood, hands clenched behind his back, in front of a large window, looking out at the stars. His breathing filled the entirity of the small room, and Charles school his expression into stoney nonchalance. He cleared his throat. "Ah, thank you for seeing me, Lord Vader," he said.
The towering montrosity turned, gesturing to the troopers. "Leave us." The voice was deep, menacing, and wholly unnatural. This was a man used to getting his way, Charles thought as the Stormtroopers exited and the door slid closed. Once the soldiers were gone, Darth Vader turned his attention to Charles. "You are here about the torture device," he intoned, gesturing for Charles to sit in one of the high-backed black chairs in front of a grand desk.
"Yes," Charles replied, setting his briefcase down on the floor and taking a seat as Vader, somewhat stiffly, settled his considerable frame into the chair behind the desk. "I saw your ad on Craigslist."
"There are few faster ways to get rid of unwanted merchandise," Vader replied by way of explanation. "My Mas... his Excellency the Emperor has requested I dispose of two or three of my lesser-used devices. They are taking up needed space." If Charles didn't know any better, he could have sworn the Dark Lord sounded somewhat chagrined by this.
"Well, Mordhaus is in need of such a device, and I have prepared an offer I think is quite fair," Charles said, laying his briefcase across his lap and pulled a sheaf of papers from its depths.
Vader shuffled the papers without seeming to read them. "The asking price in the ad was seven million credits," he said.
Charles shrugged. "Yes, but I need to exchange my currency into credits, and the exchange rate is, let's just say, grossly inflated. If you do the math out, you'll find you are actually getting the better deal." Charles was fairly counting on the fact Vader wouldn't bother doing the math out. American-to-Imperial-Standard was a currency conversion many economics majors went insane trying to understand.
"Do you think I am stupid?" Vader asked. "Did you assume I would not look up the exchange rate before you arrived?" He raised a black-gloved hand and Charles felt a stirring in his throat. "I will not be cheated."
The stirring turned into a tightening vise grip, and Charles closed his eyes. He had prepared for this. He raised his own hand, and the invisible grip around his neck abated. He opened his eyes, and was sure if he could see Vader's facial expressions, the Dark Lord would have looked surprised. Surprise was radiating off of him in waves, along with an emotion Charles couldn't quite place - embarrassment? "Oh," Vader said, even more flatly than usual. "You're one of THEM."
Charles straightened in his chair and smoothed out his tie. "Now," he said, "Do we have a deal?"
If his breathing apparatus would have allowed it, Charles was sure Vader would have sighed. "Yes, we have a deal," he said. "It would have been much easier if I could have killed you."
"I'm sure it would have been," Charles allowed, reminded somewhat of Nathan's childlike petulance. "But we do have a treaty with the Empire forbidding such things. If you want to get technical about it, neither one of us exists to the other."
Vader seemed to contemplate that for a long moment. "Perhaps it is best that we don't," he said. "My time is better served in other matters." He stood. "The device will be delivered to Mordhaus in three days. Please be there, or let us know if you must make other arrangements. It is a long trip."
Charles stood as well, and thought better of attempting a handshake. "I appreciate your time, Lord Vader," he said, picking up his briefcase and turning towards the door.
"One more thing," Vader said as the door slid open. "Please tell Dethklok they have always been my favorite band."
Charles nodded. "Of course," he said, and allowed the Stormtroopers to escort him back to the docking bay and the Dethshuttle that would spirit him home.