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carbonfrozen) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capencowl20202020-01-21 05:55 pm
carbonfrozen) wrote in capencowl20202020-01-21 05:55 pm
come as you are, as you were
WHO: Han Solo and you!
WHERE: all over the place.
WHEN: during the event but before Apollo gets broken out.
WHAT: Han Solo goes on a smuggling run, rescues a few people and fights government mooks, and gives somebody a ride.
WARNINGS: blanket Star Wars warning, so canonical war themes. non-fantasy gun violence. smoking. other warnings to come up as needed!
I. RUN BOY RUN.
[A car pulls up to the curb—dirty and grimy, it’s clearly seen better days long, long ago, but now it just looks like it’s held together with spit, duct tape, and its owner’s sheer stubbornness. A man gets out of the car, and you wouldn’t be able to tell him apart from anyone else in this part of town, not in his raggedy clothes, certainly not with the brim of his hat pulled low. He looks around as if checking on his surroundings, but then everyone does that, these days. A habit of paranoia is a healthy thing to get into.
Then he knocks, slow and deliberate, on the hood of his car. One-two, one-two-three.
This is the man you’ve been waiting for, and this car has the supplies you need. Approach, and Han tips his hat up so his eyes can meet yours. He’s been pulling some all-nighters recently, the lines around his eyes carved deeper every day, but he musters a tired nod to you.]
It’s boxed up in the trunk. Careful, it’s not the only thing I’m delivering today.
[Sure enough, whatever you’re looking for is crammed in with other boxes, marked as OFFICE SUPPLIES. Why a car like this would be smuggling office supplies is moot, because those aren’t office supplies and you know it. Han rests against the hood of his car, fingers absently drumming against the metal surface.]
You need any help getting that inside?
II. MAKE SOME NOISE.
[Bang, bang, bang.
It’s the sound of gunfire that gets Han’s attention, and before he’s thought about it he’s yanked his own gun out of its holster, throwing himself against the wall and peeking around the corner to see—ah, kriff.
He’s known, abstractly, that there are new metas coming in. He’s on standby just in case, cruising along for any lost-looking souls just trying to find a place to stay, but he hadn’t thought he’d actually get into a gunfight for one. Now he is, and he lets out a quiet curse. Most of his abilities are pretty terrible, and the one useful ability he might have is—something he reserves as a last resort. All he’s got to go on here is a gun and the hope that he can pull the trigger faster than these fucks can.
There’s a lull in the gunfire. Han darts out of cover, shooting the mooks down, and slides in beside the meta. Perhaps that meta is you.]
You any good at running?
III. AN ALRIGHT SCENE.
[Night falls, and Han cruises along the streets in a different car, a yellow taxicab he’d stolen a couple days back—he’d ditched the last one a couple hours ago, and in a couple of days it’ll be like he never even stepped inside of it, and now he just needs a place to sleep. He’s been running mostly on coffee and fumes for the past few days, hyperaware of the events going on around him, and the power naps he’s been taking won’t tide him over forever.
But he spots someone on the curb looking for a ride, and, well, he does need the money. He pulls right on over and tips his hat low, doesn’t meet the person’s eyes—they could recognize him, after all, and Han doesn’t want to shoot someone in his car today.]
Need a ride home? [He nods towards the backseat.] Backseat’s freshly cleaned, I promise.
IV. WILDCARD.
[want a different scenario? here’s the option for you! or hmu at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
robbstark to hash something out.]
WHERE: all over the place.
WHEN: during the event but before Apollo gets broken out.
WHAT: Han Solo goes on a smuggling run, rescues a few people and fights government mooks, and gives somebody a ride.
WARNINGS: blanket Star Wars warning, so canonical war themes. non-fantasy gun violence. smoking. other warnings to come up as needed!
I. RUN BOY RUN.
[A car pulls up to the curb—dirty and grimy, it’s clearly seen better days long, long ago, but now it just looks like it’s held together with spit, duct tape, and its owner’s sheer stubbornness. A man gets out of the car, and you wouldn’t be able to tell him apart from anyone else in this part of town, not in his raggedy clothes, certainly not with the brim of his hat pulled low. He looks around as if checking on his surroundings, but then everyone does that, these days. A habit of paranoia is a healthy thing to get into.
Then he knocks, slow and deliberate, on the hood of his car. One-two, one-two-three.
This is the man you’ve been waiting for, and this car has the supplies you need. Approach, and Han tips his hat up so his eyes can meet yours. He’s been pulling some all-nighters recently, the lines around his eyes carved deeper every day, but he musters a tired nod to you.]
It’s boxed up in the trunk. Careful, it’s not the only thing I’m delivering today.
[Sure enough, whatever you’re looking for is crammed in with other boxes, marked as OFFICE SUPPLIES. Why a car like this would be smuggling office supplies is moot, because those aren’t office supplies and you know it. Han rests against the hood of his car, fingers absently drumming against the metal surface.]
You need any help getting that inside?
II. MAKE SOME NOISE.
[Bang, bang, bang.
It’s the sound of gunfire that gets Han’s attention, and before he’s thought about it he’s yanked his own gun out of its holster, throwing himself against the wall and peeking around the corner to see—ah, kriff.
He’s known, abstractly, that there are new metas coming in. He’s on standby just in case, cruising along for any lost-looking souls just trying to find a place to stay, but he hadn’t thought he’d actually get into a gunfight for one. Now he is, and he lets out a quiet curse. Most of his abilities are pretty terrible, and the one useful ability he might have is—something he reserves as a last resort. All he’s got to go on here is a gun and the hope that he can pull the trigger faster than these fucks can.
There’s a lull in the gunfire. Han darts out of cover, shooting the mooks down, and slides in beside the meta. Perhaps that meta is you.]
You any good at running?
III. AN ALRIGHT SCENE.
[Night falls, and Han cruises along the streets in a different car, a yellow taxicab he’d stolen a couple days back—he’d ditched the last one a couple hours ago, and in a couple of days it’ll be like he never even stepped inside of it, and now he just needs a place to sleep. He’s been running mostly on coffee and fumes for the past few days, hyperaware of the events going on around him, and the power naps he’s been taking won’t tide him over forever.
But he spots someone on the curb looking for a ride, and, well, he does need the money. He pulls right on over and tips his hat low, doesn’t meet the person’s eyes—they could recognize him, after all, and Han doesn’t want to shoot someone in his car today.]
Need a ride home? [He nods towards the backseat.] Backseat’s freshly cleaned, I promise.
IV. WILDCARD.
[want a different scenario? here’s the option for you! or hmu at
no subject
Honestly, he's had bombs in his trunk before, and he's never been this nervous.
"What around, why, and I sure hope none of them figure it out any time soon," he says. "What's going on? I don't see you around a lot, these days, did someone track you down to where you were staying?"