Saga - ST Random Drabble Mania Again (OC, CC, AU, et al) Drama

A/N: Just a random drabble set not generated by any prompts using OCs and CCs and containing and AU or 2. I hope you enjoy!

Turlock

Anson Turlock held the lightsaber in his hands warily. It was not the first time he’d held such a weapon, but it was the first time he’d been asked to train with one. He make a strong downward thrust followed by a tight, tentative horizontal cut. He was not scared of the blade, but he was cautious.

“Let the Force flow through you, Anson,” Rey opined, encouragingly. “You’re motions are so jerky, I thought you might be having a fit.”

“You are not so far from the truth, Young L-Master,” Turlock laughed, apprehensively. “I’m much more handy with a blaster.”

Feng

Vitus Feng was not dead yet.

He may be standing over the notorious trap door in the presence of a Hutt crime lord, whose tiny fist was poised over the activation button. But all was not lost.

Seconds from now he could be torn limb from limb as an appetizer for the Rancor whose grumblings her could here below. But, there was still a chance.

He may be sweating like the Gamorean standing guard during Jabba’s steam bath, but a miracle was not out of the question.

Scanning the crowd of expectant onlookers, he wondered if this was the end.

Madine (AU)

Crix Madine paced his quarters, one end to the other, waiting to die. The quarters were not a home, but a prison; a prison for which his son was his keeper. His son, whom had rebelled against the Rebel, to save an empire.

Crix had not forsaken his desire for escape, but he had long ago exhausted any hope that it would actually happen. With each passing day, his strength bled away and his clarity of mind began to fog.

He was left alone to endlessly wonder if Armitage Hux, his son, would kill him or let him rot away.

Calrissian (AU)

There were days when Lando Calrissian dreamed of being a debonair gambler, a man of mystery, and a magnet for the ladies. Today was such a day. The man sitting at his table looked sharp. His hair was a brown and perfectly coifed. His suit of clothes might appear garish, but the cape; the cape was a dusty blue, the same blue that was on a very special tunic in Lando’s closet at home.
“You gonna deal or keep staring, Kid,” the man said.

“Same age as you, Solo,” Lando replied, directly. “Just on the other end of the transaction.”

Gimbek

Sturges Gimbek leaned against the bar and watched as the young card dealer tossed cards. He liked the kid. He had charisma and a certain level of mischief mixed with business acumen that allowed Gimbek to overlook some of his extracurricular activities; side games, small time smuggling, and slicing which could come in handy. Calrissian would go far if he stayed put, followed directions, and didn’t bet against the house. Success could go a being’s head, make him think he could be boss. He could not. There was already a boss at The Spinning Punch Bowl. The name was Gimbek.