Holly awoke with a sharp grunt; her head ached and her legs had gone dead. She strained to sit up and slowly opened her eyes. The sight she was greeted with was not, as she originally expected, the majestic purple decor of her beloved attic room but the nicotine stained walls of Glasgow Airport's smoking area.
Slowly reality came back to her, and she checked her watch.
"Uhh, 3 a.m.," she muttered to nobody in particular. "Only another 4 hours until our flight leaves." She was just about to lie back down and attempt to go back to sleep when she noticed that something was missing. That something was about 6' 2", incredibly attractive (if not incredibly strange) and dressed in black. "Urgh, Beggs, where the hell are you?" she groaned. She looked around, however the cocky cajun was nowhere in sight. Sithspit, he's loose in an airport, she thought inwardly. I'd better go and look for him before he does some damage. She stood up and hoisted her overnight bag over her shoulder. "Well, there are only three things that are of incredible importance to Beggs," she mused, "The first being cigarettes, however the shops are all shut up for the night; the second being the pursuit of female companionship, however there won't be any stewardesses on duty yet; the third being..... oh Hells." Holly quickly collected her wits and her cigarettes and ran off in the direction of the video arcade.
Sure enough, as Holly entered the nearly-deserted video arcade with two cups of coffee in her hands, the all too familiar cry of "Fury!" bellowed out from the direction of a nearby arcade machine. Holly groaned for the second time that day. She found him seated in front of the Star Wars Trilogy machine, eyes set squarely on the huge screen, hand gripped to the joystick, and a manic grin upon his face as he vaped anything stupid enough to move.
"Hey Holl," he chimed not bothering to take his eyes off the screen.
"Beggs, don't you ever get bored of playing this same mission over and over again?" she enquired, plonking one of the cups of coffee in front of him.
"Hell, no!" he answered, obviously not paying any attention to Holly as his mind had already found the maximum two focal points: HOW TO DESTROY THE DEATH STAR and HOW TO DRINK A CUP OF COFFEE WHILST DOING SO.
She watched with mild interest as Beggs continued to pilot the virtual X-Wing at breakneck speed down the first Death Star's trench, vaping everything and everyone; his excitement grew as his targeting computer suddenly shifted to proton torpedo launcher and the familiar voice of Red Leader murmured "Stay on target." Beggs started quivering as he neard the thermal exhaust port. "Stay on target," Red Leader repeated.
Holly was pretty sure at this point that if Beggs was to get anymore excited he would explode.
The targeting computer clicked red and the huge button in front of Beggs started flashing; he had a lock. He slammed his fist down on the button a lot harder than was necessary, and yanked back on the joystick with all his might.
The X-Wing pulled out safely, Holly took a few steps back as the screen filled with images of the Death Star being blown into several million bits.
"Fuuuuuuuurrrrrrrryyyyyyy!" Beggs yelled as he marvelled at the destruction he'd caused. With that done, he reclaimed his coffee and reclined in the 'pilots seat'. He looked up at Holly. "How cool am I?" he whooped, looking as cocky as ever. "C'mon, you can tell me!" Holly shook her head and walked away.
As unpleasant as the smoking area was at Glasgow Airport, she decided she'd rather be there than watching Beggs vape yet another Imperial monstrosity. It wasn't that she didn't like Beggs, he had become her best friend and trusted confidante over the years, however his verbose egoism did grate on her nerves at times, especially at 3 a.m. when she had a huge headache.
She sat down and took one of the Rothmans Royals from the deck in her bag, slipped it between her lips and inhaled with a sigh of contentment as she lit it.
"Hey, do you mind if I bum one of those off you?" a voice came from behind, she turned round to confront the entity from which the request had come.... and gaped.
He was about 5' 11", with blue eyes and dark hair and the athletic build of a starfighter pilot. "Humma," was the only noise Holly could utter whilst looking at this guy.
"Uh, yeah," he retorted looking slightly confused.
"Y..y..yyou're....," she stammered.
"Oh, sorry," the guy said, standing and offering his hand. "Major Wes Janson of the New Republic Military."
Continued in Part Three