Much like the proverbial lightning bolt, I have my idea.
'Skuls! I've got an idea.' I call over to Skuldren, who's calmly shooting the bigfoot. 'Can you hold it off for a few minutes?'
'Sure. Leave it to the injured guy to go up against bigfoot.'
'Well, I'm too pretty to get eaten alive.' I grin at him and run over to his position, leaving my automatic rifle beside him, and dash off inside the Cantina. Heart pounding, my mouth dry, my eyes scanning frantically for what I need. Our hideout has been our home for a few weeks, now, but we've never made a concerted attempt to clear away the rubble and debris. I hear the sharper crack of Skuldren's high powered rifle give way to the more staccato snapping of my automatic, and take that as my cue to hurry. Finally, I find the object of my desire - a large spool of electrical wiring - behind an upturned table. Grabbing it, I hurry to the basement.
The room is pitch black, save for the small strip of light emanating from the doorway. I wave my hand over the side wall, blindly searching for the light switch. Finally, I do, and I'm rewarded with the flickering on of overhead lighting. I breathe a quick sigh of relief, having confirmation of the second part of my plan, and the easing of my fears. I find the fuse box and rip open the cover lid - and then curse the damnable Americans for having the temerity to wire their powering stations differently. Incorrectly. I hope that the symbols are standard, and turn off the power-source - whether it's still hooked into the city power grid, or working on its own supply, I don't know, but don't care, either - and feel my way blindly, ripping out a wire, replacing it with an end of my spooled one. Loosening it, I run back up the stairs, through the cantina, and outside. I pick up my discarded pointed metal stick, and wrap the other end of the cord.
'Skuls! Get inside!' I yell at wounded counterpart, who stands dangerously close to the bigfoot monster. He retreats, gingerly but hurriedly, and I pull out my revolver to cover him. Once inside, I order him: 'Go to the basement. Follow the cable. Throw the power switch on!'
I bar the entrance with my body, switching the bar to my right hand, my gun to my left. The monster looks into my eyes, and I see only pure anger, need, hunger. No trace of what it once was behind those eyes. It's only a few feet away now. In my mind, I hear a phrase from a more comforting time. None shall pass. I smile, heft my bar, and throw it, to spear the monster right in the gut. 'Now, throw the switch!' I yell to Skuldren. 'Fry him!'
I am a Star Wars fan. That doesn't mean that I hate or love Jar Jar. That doesn't mean I hate or love Lucas, or agree or disagree 100% with him. That doesn't mean I prefer the PT over the OT, or vice versa. That doesn't mean I hate the EU, or even love all of it. These are not prerequisites. Being a man is not a prerequisite. Being a geek is not a prerequisite. The only prerequisite is that I love something about Star Wars. I am a Star Wars fan.
Life is like the Force - Luke Skywalker, Crucible. Damn straight I am.