Ridiculous Deathmatch #4

[The Widowed]

Darth Vader was having a bad day.

Two of his lieutenants had fallen down an access shaft, he'd had to force choke another lieutenant for leaving the hatch to the access shaft open, the trash monster had laid another batch of eggs inside the compactor shunt and the Emperor had just gotten done chewing his ass because some Rebel spy had stolen the plans to the Death Star. And for that moment Vader felt like doing nothing more than standing in the command center of the Death Star, staring into the cold void of space as he wondered how much worse his day could possibly get.

"Lord Vader," Ensign Boof addressed him, interrupting his self-pitying contemplation, "the handyman has arrived. We just admitted him to Sublevel 47 so he could begin his work."

"A handyman?" Vader asked, suddenly curious. "I was not aware that we had any workers visiting the Death Star today. What service is he here to perform?"

"He's here to work on the natural gas lines...swap out old pipes, add a few furnaces and a range for the kitchen...."

"Idiot!" Vader shot back. "This is the Death Star. The Death Star doesn't have any natural gas. The Galactic Empire hasn't had any natural gas for the past 3,000 years. What. Is going. On. Here?"

"Well, Lord Vader," Lieutenant Boof stammered, "there was a slight discrepancy with his work order, but he seems to be in the right place. His truck's parked in the hrrrrk!"

"I want surveillance on Sublevel 47 now," Darth Vader demanded as Ensign Boof clutched at his own throat, feebly struggling for breath as an invisible force lifted him from the floor.

Suddenly fearful for his own life, the ensign operating the viewscreen immediately complied with Lord Vader's order. Oddly enough, the lean, gangly living caricature of a handyman was smirking at the camera as he rummaged around inside an ionic junction conduit...something that he was not supposed to be working on at all.

"Oh, there's your problem right there," the workman blithely appraised to the surveillance camera. "This wire's got a little shzzztzzztzztzzt...."

The lighting systems throughout the entire Death Star momentarily shuddered dim, much to the consternation of Darth Vader, his officers and pretty much everyone else aboard the colossal space station. Onscreen, the handyman yanked his hand out of the conduit and continued as if nothing had happened.

"...zzztzzztshort in it. But never fear. I can get this fixed right up. Boy, Vern, natural gas reinstallation is a thankless job, but somebody's gotta do it. Knowhutimean?"

Lieutenant Boof thundered to the floor, gasping audibly as Vader's entire psyche went unnervingly numb in that instant.

"No...not him," Vader blurted as the repairman on the viewscreen fiddled inside the ion box some more, killing the entire surveillance system with another magnificent jolt. "It cannot be! I want every stormtrooper deployed to Sublevel 47 immediately. He must be stopped before he destroys us all!"

But already the Dark Lord knew that his bad day was about to get a whole lot worse.

Combatant #1



The Death Star


Combatant #2



Ernest P. Worrell


Off you go!