Many years passed. In fact, so much time passed that maybe she died and was reincarnated, hit reset and got a do-over. Or maybe so much time passed that someone discovered a portal to a new dimension and she slipped into one and ended up here. I guess it really doesn't matter how, but she ended up in a new story. This story.

There was a bar between work and home that Jennifer frequented. They served some pretentious craft cocktails, but the staff were down to earth and the prices were reasonable, and did I mention it was between work and home?

It was a Friday evening when this story began, and Jennifer and the bartender, whose name I will decide eventually, were having a lively discussion on a topic near and dear to Jennifer's heart - Darth Vader.

See, Jennifer fell in love with the Sith Lord when she was five years old, watching the menacing, dark, vicious figure on the big screen. yes, while many young girls in 1979 had eyes and hearts affixed to Luke Skywalker and Han Solo, Jennifer fell head over heels for that dark, brooding, cape-wearing, asthmatic, disabled, bass voice and downright evil antagonist, Darth Vader.

"This is the most insulting thing I've seen in my life," she griped, pointing at the picture on her phone to the yet unnamed bartender.

He glanced at it, immediately rolled his eyes. "Here we go again."

"I'm serious. I think Pete was right; Disney did ruin Star Wars."

"It's not Disney's fault," said the bartender. "These things came out long before Disney had anything to do with them."

She scoffed. "Vader's Little Princess," and gestured to the image of the children's book on her phone. "Give me a break. Vader blew up Princess Leia's entire planet in front of her eyes. He would never tuck her in and read her a bedside story. Am I right?" she asked everyone and no one in particular.

The couple to her right did not react nor respond, but the man three stools away to her left did.

"You're absolutely right," he agreed vehemently. "Dude was basically Hitler."

"Oh no, you don't," Jennifer warned. "That's the love of my life you're talking about."

"So, you must be Eva Braum," the stranger said.

Jennifer's mouth dropped open. "Are you serious?" she said after she could speak again. How dare he.

He shook his head. "Hey, I'm not the one in love with a Nazi."

"He's not a Nazi." She looked to the barman for help, but he just laughed. So she turned back to the stranger. "He's not a Nazi," she repeated.

"Sure he is. Didn't you notice how the Imperial Guard all look like the SS?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"Yeah, Star Wars is actually an allegory for--"

The bartender cut him off. "Don't waste your breath," he told the man. "Jennifer here isn't a Star Wars fan. She's just a Darth Vader fan." He made air quotes.

"Seriously?" He addressed Jennifer. "You don't like Star Wars?"

"I never said I didn't like Star Wards. It's just that people think I know all the lore and stuff, but I just like Darth Vader."

"So you're a poser?"

"Don't you dare! I am not a poser. Like he said, I am a Darth Vader fan, not a Star Wars fan."
The stranger leaned closer. "And how does that work exactly? Do you watch the movies?"
"Yeah, but I only pay attention when Darth Vader is on the screen. And Chewbacca. I like Chewbacca, too."

"And yet you never noticed the Gestapo? They're in all the Darth Vader scenes!"

"Well, I'm not paying attention to them. I'm just looking at Lord Vader because he's dreamy."

"He's dreamy?" The stranger gave her an incredulous look. "How?"

"That deep James Earle Jones voice and he's all imposing with the cape, and, I don't know. I was five, okay? There weren't a lot of boys in my circle who could compete with that."

The stranger let out a giddy laugh, almost a cackle, and took a sip from his drink to stop himself. "What's your name? Jennifer? Jennifer, can I write a book about you?"

"What are you, a writer?"

"Yeah. I write comic books. And you'd be a great character. A good villain origin."

"Villain?"

"Like Harley Quinn, falling for the most sadistic dude imaginable and doing his bidding."

She scoffed. "I would never do Darth Vader's bidding." She took a drink, but her glass was empty. She held it up for the bartender to see, and he went about pouring her a second one.

"Let me get that," the stranger said, pulling his wallet from the inside of his jacket pocket. He wore a green field jacket, dark wash blue jeans and black combat boots.

She hadn't paid attention to his clothes until he made the movement, but she liked them, liked that they weren't some other clothes men her age wore. Khakis. Joggers. Athletic shorts.
With a shake of the head, she declined the offer. "I don't need you to buy my drink."

"I don't want to buy you a drink," he spoke in italics. "I'm not trying to pick you up."

She wasn't sure why, but that statement stung.

"I get this daily stipend and I've hardly put a dent in it. Don't need it to go back and line the fat cats' pockets."

Stipend? "What fat cats?" she asked.

"Marvel."

A spontaneous laugh burst from her mouth. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious."

"He is," said Bartender, taking the stranger's cash for Jennifer's drink. "You know that comic expo at the convention center?"

"Yeah." Barely. Scott Miller may have posted about it on Facebook and she may have poked a little fun at him for it.

"You know who this is?" the bartender asked.

She shook her head. Should she know who that was? He did not look even vaguely familiar. Just a kind of soft guy in jeans and a greet coat, shaggy brown hair and matching eyebrows, a pointy nose and very pretty eyelashes she just now noticed. "Should I?"

"Hi," he reached out and extended his hand in greeting. "I'm Gabriel West. I'm here for the convention."

She shook his hand. His name meant nothing. "You really write comic books?"

"Yep."

"Would I know any of them?" She knew nothing besides the famous ones - Spiderman, Batman, Wonder Woman.

"True Lies and Killing Fields?"

She shook her head.

"Patrolling Doom?"

Another shake.

"Ubiquitous Allies?"

Her eyes lit up. "Yes! I've seen that show! You made that?"

He nodded.

"Oh wow, that's so cool. Do you know the girl who plays Alison? And Claude? He's my favorite."

"He's everyone's favorite," he laughed. "Though the show made him completely different. Made them all really different."

"Especially the storyline," said the bartender.

"So basically, you just wrote the title," said Jennifer, to which she received quite a scowl.

"It's like when they adapt books to movies, or movies to musicals," he said rather defensively.

"So the comic is better than the show?"

"The show's a lot better than the comic," said the bartender which earned him a scowl. "Well, it is." He defended his position.

"It's different," Gabriel said.

"Well, hopefully when they adapt the comic you're going to write about me to TV, they take out all that Harley Quinn Nazi stuff because there is no way I'd do Darth Vader's bidding. But I hope they add a lot of gratuitous sex scenes."

Gabriel snorted. "You gonna make him leave his helmet on?"

"Definitely. And his cape. Ew, and his fake arm and legs. Basically I just want to dry hump him I guess. But I do like the heavy breathing." She laughed a little though it was true.

Gabriel laughed even harder. "Oh my god. Now I am definitely going to make this book."

"If you do, don't draw me like those gross comic girls that are all boos and butts."

He glanced at her chest, and she folded her arms across it.

"Don't look at my boobs."

"What boobs?" joked the bartender.

She sneered at him, but he simply laughed.

"I gotta look at my source material if I'm going to draw you," Gabriel said while he pulled a sketchbook and pen from the satchel he had slung over the back of the chair.

"Are you going to draw me like one of your French girls, Jack?" she could not resist saying.

He laughed. "No. I was going to do a character sketch for my book. Your book."

"Do I get royalties?"

"I don't know. I've never based a character off a real person before."

"Well, I definitely want royalties."

He laughed again. "Okay. You got it."

Her stomach grumbled and she checked the time. It was getting past her dinner time - she usually just stopped for one drink, but the conversation with the comic book buy distracted her - in a good way.
"I'd better run," she scooted back in the seat. "I'm starving. Don't want to get all hangry on you." She hadn't finished her drink, but didn't feel all that bad as Gabriel said he had a stipend to use up.

"See you later," said Jeff.

"Yeah," she replied. "Have a great weekend." Turning to Gabriel, she added, "Thank you for the drink. It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he held up his drink in acknowledgment.

"If you make that comic book, I'm coming after you for royalties," she joked.

"Don't worry," he said with a smile, "I'll track you down somehow."