Darth and Aelita's Awesome Death Duel
It was 7 o’clock on a stormy afternoon. Electricity crackled in the clouds, and humidity made the air thick and difficult as fuck to breathe. It was the kind of day where, if you were outside on the street, your shirt would be oversaturated with sweat and would stick to you in an irreparable way, no matter how much you picked at it.
Darth Vader, however, was not outside. He was in the ruins of Ganondorf’s factory, a place where the souls of the multiverse were harnessed for the purest of evil once. Now it was a place where dark corners were harnessed for the purest of rat reproduction. Still, on a tip from a trusted source, Darth had come to eliminate the last of the warlock’s forces, led by the Gerudo’s second-in-command.
His katana was soaked in the blood of mooks who had rushed to their lady’s aid and had perished for the effort. All that remained between him and Lady Aelita was a thin wooden door that held the office from where so many conquests had been launched, and now only held dust and a woman clinging to the past.
The door swung open easily due to Darth’s massive strength, and inside was something both expected and shockingly depressing. A pink haired “AI” clung to the torn cape of a dead desert man, crying hysterically and clinging to a gun made of desert sand. The barrel was lodged in a forest of pink locks, and sad eyes full of tears were also full of determination.
“Aelita, put the gun down. It’s over.” Darth breathed, his nerves standing on end due to a certain detail he wasn’t quite sure of, but knew would change everything once the Sith Lord had figured it out.
“If it’s over, why shouldn’t I shoot?” She asked, her voice cracking and her hope destroyed. Darth had no answer.
He had made up his mind not to interfere in the honorable suicide and was turning to leave when he suddenly realized what had been bothering him for the last three agonizing minutes. “Aelita-San, where did you get that sand pistol?”
For just a minute, for a total of four minutes that Vader had spent in the room, Aelita had a satisfied smirk on her elfin face. She spoke one word, and brought Darth’s entire world crashing down. “Ted ‘Theodore’ Logan.” A gunshot echoed. Darth was more alone than he had ever been in his life, so he picked up his iPhone, called his bro, and said simply “It’s over, bro, it’s over.”
“What do you mean, hommie?”
Darth couldn’t find the words, so he hung up, and left the factory with tears on his mask.