Lessons to be learned
Who: Darth Vader and Dean Winchester
Where: The halls of the first floor
When: An hour or so after Vader's meeting with the Doctor
What: Two ill-tempered and violent men meet one another.
Darth Vader was rapidly nearing his wits end. His every effort to get his bearings in this place had proven fruitless. His every effort to get straight and comprehensible answers out of any of the other beings he had met here had been fruitless. Nothing made sense; not this building, not the people in it, not even his presence here. And there seemed no way to extract any sense from it. There was that about it which was like unto a nightmare.
He was storming around yet another interminable corner in yet another hallway, insistinguishable from any of the others he had stormed down in the past few hours, marvelling as he did so at how sparsely-populated this prison was. For the size of the facility and the efforts which must have gone into arranging its use, there were remarkably few inmates. All he needed was one clear thinker with some sense in their heads, with some understanding of this place, and the ability and desire to speak sensibly. Was that so much to ask?
Clenching and unclenching his fists, he rounded yet another corner, when he caught sight of someone he had not yet met. Another human - this place seemed to have a preponderance of them, he noted - young and male, and dressed in a similar style to the last three he had met. Apprehensive of yet another pointless, fruitless exchange, but weary of his equally-fruitless, pointless wanderings, he decided to take the direct approach.
"You there," he intoned, gesturing towards the stranger, "I would have words with you."
Where: The halls of the first floor
When: An hour or so after Vader's meeting with the Doctor
What: Two ill-tempered and violent men meet one another.
Darth Vader was rapidly nearing his wits end. His every effort to get his bearings in this place had proven fruitless. His every effort to get straight and comprehensible answers out of any of the other beings he had met here had been fruitless. Nothing made sense; not this building, not the people in it, not even his presence here. And there seemed no way to extract any sense from it. There was that about it which was like unto a nightmare.
He was storming around yet another interminable corner in yet another hallway, insistinguishable from any of the others he had stormed down in the past few hours, marvelling as he did so at how sparsely-populated this prison was. For the size of the facility and the efforts which must have gone into arranging its use, there were remarkably few inmates. All he needed was one clear thinker with some sense in their heads, with some understanding of this place, and the ability and desire to speak sensibly. Was that so much to ask?
Clenching and unclenching his fists, he rounded yet another corner, when he caught sight of someone he had not yet met. Another human - this place seemed to have a preponderance of them, he noted - young and male, and dressed in a similar style to the last three he had met. Apprehensive of yet another pointless, fruitless exchange, but weary of his equally-fruitless, pointless wanderings, he decided to take the direct approach.
"You there," he intoned, gesturing towards the stranger, "I would have words with you."