Vega Van-Derveld
Apr 7th, 2003, 02:42:56 AM
Feet rattled across metallic a walkway, growing faster and faster as they thundered over head. At first it had just been a walking pace that the people inside of ‘The Burning Deck’ could hear, and it could have almost been mistaken for some fault in machinery. But no, not now – now it was definitely someone sprinting, and doing it, by the sounds of things, with lead boots on. The run-down bar in the Corellian sector of Nar Shaddaa paid little mind to this of course, as it was engulfed already in the seedy pleasures of the night. Smugglers, pilots and civilians alike mingled in the dead of night, sipping on cocktails and wasting their lives away. All across the vertical city, life was the same. Ships flew in, ships flew out, and life went on.
That is, until someone decided to stop life.
The running ceased and high above the roof of The Burning Deck a man cleared the distance between the bar and a suspended path. It was like many of the others around the city and sloped upwards, leading into another labyrinth of planks. Quickly he was darting up it, pushing through and past people with little regard for their safety. In fact, it almost seemed as though he was deliberately giving them that extra little shove in the hope they would accidentally fall.
A junction present itself, with a red light marking that the street-walkers should pause and allow traffic by. No such thing was done by the man donning a grey coat, who leapt forcefully onto the first transport that hummed by a – limousine; sleek, black, and tearing off in the direction of one of the raunchiest joints in town: ‘Exotic Exhibit’.
That is, until someone decided to stop life.
The running ceased and high above the roof of The Burning Deck a man cleared the distance between the bar and a suspended path. It was like many of the others around the city and sloped upwards, leading into another labyrinth of planks. Quickly he was darting up it, pushing through and past people with little regard for their safety. In fact, it almost seemed as though he was deliberately giving them that extra little shove in the hope they would accidentally fall.
A junction present itself, with a red light marking that the street-walkers should pause and allow traffic by. No such thing was done by the man donning a grey coat, who leapt forcefully onto the first transport that hummed by a – limousine; sleek, black, and tearing off in the direction of one of the raunchiest joints in town: ‘Exotic Exhibit’.