(( The following is on my SWTOR smuggler, Captain Jacqueline “Jackie” Rees. ))
Day or night, the Nar Shadda skyline was the same. Neon traced the outlines of buildings that clawed at a clouded sky. Traffic was constant, the noise of civilization a perpetual hum. Time could only be noted by when or how often its people slept, but for its hustlers and gamblers, mobsters and thieves, slums and casinos, Nar Shadda’s denizens were notorious for keeping sleep at bay.
Datapad beeping her awake, Jacqueline rose at a time she personally designated as dawn. With a grunt, she rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of trousers, hooked her belt and blasters to her hip, strapped on a pair of boots, pulled a shirt over her head, and exited the Gunstar. She paused to stretch her legs and began a jog: Circling the tarmac once and then heading into headquarters, she jogged the empty halls until she arrived at the training room. There her workout continued, switching to heavy weights and then shadow boxing. Moving from one session to another, she seemed partial to anything but sitting still.
She lingered long in her shadow boxing session. The hall was empty and quiet, save the intermittent beeping of wall consoles. Her shadow stretched from the floor to the far wall, moving in elongated tandem with her jabs and sweeping kicks. Feet perpetually shifting and pivoting, Jacqueline battled against an invisible opponent, weaving and returning blows with a fierce intensity. Sweat licked her brow and dripped onto the floor. Face scrunched in a stewing anger, she was locked into her thoughts. The dance continued for nearly an hour, stopping only when her datapad made a mournful beep.
The sound halted her session mid-kick and she immediately made for the datapad. Entering multiple unlock codes, she opened an encrypted message. There was no note of the sender and within moments, the message disappeared from the screen. But the words were carved in her mind:
Confirmed. She is Force sensitive. Next moves?
The datapad beeped again, confirmed the auto-deletion of the message. For all the fire and movement of earlier, Jacqueline now stood stark sill.
“Shit,” she muttered to an empty room.
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