“Yoooooooo!” said 8R, as he watched Gundam Fett karate-chop a guy in half.
“Dude, we need his money,” explained Gundamnn Fett, “Now let’s go.”
He and the stormtrooper began walking toward the nearby space bazaar.
“We couldn’t have just mugged him or something?”
“There’s an old saying. It’s easier to kill someone than ask for permission.”
“I don’t think that’s right at all.”
“Okay, so we need to buy some badass Mandalorian armor for you. And we need to hire a gang of misfits we can use as lightsaber fodder,” explained Fett, and they entered an armory, nodding respectfully at the alien shopkeeper with a green head and bug-eyes. Because he’s an alien. You know. Whatever.
“Sure, whatever. So what are you going to do when this is all over?”
“What do you mean?” asked Gundam Fett.
“You know, the Order’s the reason you’re alive right now.”
“Dude, the hell? I thought we were past this already.”
“Look, the Order’s been good to me, man! General Hux threw me a surprise birthday party, and genocided an entire planet for me as a present. And Phasma…” TR-8R stopped short.
Gundam Fett, the galaxy’s most feared womanizer immediately realized what was going on.
“You’ve got feelings for your commanding officer.”
“What? No, she’s just my captain. That’s all there is to it.”
What a load of shit. Fett wasn’t buying it.
“8R, let me tell you something about love. The galaxy’s a cold place. When I’m out there, in uncharted territory, putting a blaster shot through a guy’s head from a mile away, you know what I’m thinking about?”
“The guy who you’re murdering?”
“No, that’s stupid,” replied Fett, weighing a piece of battle armor in his mech-hands, “I’m thinking about all the women I’ve known throughout the years who’ve made my life a little less lonely. Life is meaningless without love, 8R. If you love Captain Phasma, I’ll help you win her over.”
“…Thanks, Fett. So you’ll join the Order?” asked 8R.
“Yeah, I’ll join your stupid Order. At least until you seal the deal with Phasma. Then I’m out like a trout.”
“Fine,” sighed 8R.
Gundam Fett turned to the shopkeeper with a box full of guns and armor.
“We’ll take this.”
The shopkeeper knew this shtick and decided to not even ask for money.
“Yup, okay, good luck with whatever you’re doing,” he said, holding his hands up.
“Are you sure you don’t want to give us a price?” inquired Fett, noticeably disappointed.
The shopkeeper sighed.
“That’ll be 600 credits…”
Gundam Fett smiled on the inside, drew his blaster, and pointed it at the shopkeeper’s head.
“No, we’ll TAKE this,” he said.
“Yeah, okay, okay, okay, yes, just please-” said the shopkeeper, turning his head away with his hands up.
“Heh heh, yeah,” said Fett, and he walked out with the box of equipment.
“I’m really sorry,” said TR-8R.
“Please just go,” said the shopkeeper.
“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a lightsaber would you?”
“No, I don’t!”
“I’ll pay you for it.”
The shopkeeper opened a drawer and handed an old saber to 8R.
“What color is it?”
“Do you have any blue ones?”
“Alright, well thanks. Have a good one.”
8R exited the armory to find Fett waiting outside, playing with his new toys.
“8R, look. Freaking grenades that shoot nets.”
“I thought you already had a net gun.”
“Don’t be a dick, 8R. Let’s get moving. We’re going to need at least 5 people to help ambush Windu.”
The two headed toward the cantina, where they hoped to find people stupid enough to help them take on an unstoppable Jedi Master.