First Reply Hangover Cures

[Wedge Draav]

FLYBOY

Good night, bad day.
​

"WAKE UP!"

There was a large snap and Wedge's world went from blissful black and restful, to painful, in color, and fully realized. With all the brightness, the sunlight, and an angry lady with a broom standing over him. He was still in most of his clothing from last night. His sunglasses, thankfully, were still atop his head. But he was out of credits- loose ones, anyways. But he still had his ID, but not his knife or his holdout blaster.

Uh-oh.

He was whacked several times with the broom, apparently in front of someone's dwelling. It was a dense street, but individual houses. Where was he? Was he still on Naboo? Was he on Naboo? Was he in Alliance space? He looked down to check his timepiece-

Gone.

He sighed, rubbing his head. A headache straight from mother nature, apparently. He rolled onto his back, looking up at a tinted, but clear sky. The lady with the broom whacked him a few more times, before he got the message and stood up, not liking the feeling of a broom on his already sore and alcohol (hopefully just alcohol, a random drug test would be the end of his career) soaked-body.

He pushed his palms to the ground, pushing himself up, getting shooed away from the woman's house. He stumbled into the street- and was nearly hit by a passing speeder taxi. With no credits to speak of, and in an unknown place, Wedge hoped that he could scrounge something up to get enough scratch to at least get back to an Alliance-friendly post and get back to rights. Or pay a Trooper a few credits to sleep it off in his cot.

Overall, not the worst night out.

But what the hell happened?

​

 

[Felix Astermo]

A plan. There'd been a plan. At some point.

Had he been trying to accomplish something, or just having fun? He hoped it was the latter because he didn't have anything new on his person. If anything, he was missing a thing or two. Nothing important, though. Err. Probably.

Throwing himself out of the couch he had been sleeping in with feline grace, Felix... promptly stumbled into the nearest wall as if remembering what he'd done to his poor liver. He was hungry, confused, and had a blaring headache.

Peeking into the nearest bedroom, he saw three strangers. At least he hadn't ended up there.

Small mercies.

Stumbling out and into a wall of hot, humid air, his eyes immediately fixated on a similarly ragged figure.

"Hey! I remember you! Ah, probably. Who are you again?"

Only then did it occur to him that he was wearing his shirt open. At least he had his pants on. Thank the Force for belts.

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

FLYBOY
​

Wedge stumbled a little more before he had to upchuck into a public wastebin.

Hero of the Alliance, indeed.

Through his sunglasses, another blurry figure appeared.

He threw up again after he asked him a question. Wedge frantically patted his pockets, finally finding it- the pack of gum he didn't use, definitely, to operate a vehicle when he'd had a bit too much.

He took a piece, blinking in the direction of the voice.

"You look alright but-"

Wedge hadn't comprehended that he was talking directly to him. He heard something about asking if his outfit looked decent. Wedge thought the shirt looked better buttoned up, but he didn't have the mental fortitude to display that thought process at the moment. He leaned back over the trash can, upheaving.

Felix Astermo

​

 

[Felix Astermo]

Alright? He definitely looked better than alright, sloppy appearance be damned!

He was about to say as much, but the righteous indignation faded when he remembered that he'd asked something else. Oh, right, the stranger (Force, he looked like shit) seemed familiar. Squinting at the man, he tried to place him, though the throbbing headache was hardly helping. Sunglasses! The sunglasses were familiar!

"Not- not what I asked." Turning away as Sunglasses Man leaned over a nearby trash can, his gnawing hunger was joined by nascent queasiness. "You. Whatsyourface. Where are we? IwishIknewhowtodetoxifyorwhatever."

Nearby, a local couple walked a wide circle around them while eying Sunglasses Man (Felix probably looked great!) with disgust.

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

FLYBOY
​

Just as the Pilot was about to answer his question, there was a huddle of screaming down the street. A lot of angry screaming. A crowd, a mildly sized crowd of amputees was coming at the duo. And they were pointing at the two of them, cursing in many of the galaxy's known languages. Such phrases were popular as:

"Get 'em!"
"There they are!"
"They took my fucking arm!"
"Those insensitive pricks!"



Wedge looked at the new compatriot, and looked around for a second. And he had a silent understanding with the man. Whatever they did last night, they were now paying for it. He flicked his eyes down the street, and then looked back at the man.

He didn't even wait.


Wedge booked it, rapidly running from the horde of amputees and cybernetic-laden individuals. For some, it was easier, for others, it was harder, given that they were not running with their real legs and generally robot legs could outperform human legs. But fear gave men wings, and Wedge had no damn clue what they did last night, or why a bunch of amputees wanted to get them both.





Felix Astermo

​

 

[Felix Astermo]

Angry amputees? That... that made a great deal of sense, at least based on what little he recalled. Had he decided to turn their limbs to gold, then flubbed the procedure? Or was that a different time? Either way, they'd definitely done something.

He met Sunglasses Man's gaze as if to search for the truth, but after a meaningful moment, the man promptly bolted.

"Wha- hey!"

He started running a moment later, but that still put the other guy in the lead. That dick. He was about to do the same thing, to be honest, but it was still jarring after what had felt like a moment of genuine camaraderie.

Fortunately, Felix was resourceful! As his legs pounded across the pavement, his bleary eyes flagged a garbage can - without hesitation, he pulled it over as he ran past, yelling "Hah, good luck with that," as he did.

The furious roars behind him made it clear that they'd interpreted that as a slight against their crippled status.

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

FLYBOY
​

"Did you just insult people with disabilities!"

Wedge said, as the other man caught up to him. He skid on his heels, realizing that he was face-to-face with a new group of people, who apparently had come to investigate the problem in the neighborhood.

In fact, it was the neighborhood.

But worse.

It was the Neighborhood Watch.

The old people had come for the duo. Wedge turned his head, behind them, the amputees, and other varying degrees of limb-challenged people. Ahead of them, old people, gaining speed. But not much, obviously.

Wedge suddenly remembered what he was doing briefly- getting something for Reima Vitalis . He couldn't remember what it was. He turned his head, towards one of the houses. He sprinted into it- and through it, out the back door. The man was free to follow, as Wedge hopped a few more fences after committing light trespassing to get away. He was going for the back alley, behind the houses in the neighborhood.

Felix Astermo

​

 

[Felix Astermo]

"Yes!" Felix yelled, throwing a glare behind him. "Yes, and they deserved it."

As if summoned by his insolence, the elderly emerged from the direction of their intended escape route. Wrinkled faces filled with the determination of annoyed retirees, they marched inexorably (if slowly) forwards.

Luckily, Sunglasses Man presumably knew what he was doing. Unwilling to take his chances with the aesthetically unappealing senior citizens - the wrinkles were bad enough, but age was no excuse for such dated clothing! - he rushed after him. Unfortunately for Felix, he was not nearly as experienced hopping fences.

He managed the first few, but stumbled over the last one.

A botched recovery saw him tripping into a... Jawa? A Jawa carrying a large box.

"Togo togu! Mombay m'bwa!" The Jawa screamed as he used the fallen box to push himself back to his feet. "Ah, sorry, my fr-" Waving their hands aggressively as they clambered to their feet, the Jawa yelled again, moving to stand protectively in front of the box. "Omu`sata. A beton nya mombay m'bwa!"

Oh, whatever. Fuck if he knew what they were saying. He'd just keep running. Where did- that alley, maybe?

Wedge Draav​