(( Related: SWTOR Journal (Brembal) Piquant Sentiment. The following is on my SWTOR smuggler, Captain Jacqueline “Jackie” Rees. ))
The deepest alleys of Nar Shadda were littered with scenes of crime. Crumpled leaflets, discarded stim needles, refuse from both droid and humanoid, anything the destitute could spread along the ground lay scattered. It all rose in collective stench, silently telling hopeless tales. No wind delved deep enough into the city layers to lift the garbage or smell away. Gathered in bunches or left alone, the destitute huddled, stooped and crouched, the telltale image of lives halted but no final destination allowed. Filled with the listless, the alleys of Nar Shadda stunk of a purgatory always one merciless step away from the release of death.
Footsteps echoed down a narrow alleyway. Unlike the masses scattered about, their eyes cast downward, this individual walked with resolution, a pointed destination in mind. Black boots walked, the body they propelled casting its long shadow against the walls, her dark silhouette stark against the red light that lit Nar Shadda’s underbelly.
Dressed in black, Jacqueline Rees approached a security panel, her face grinning briefly in amusement. A few taps of her datapad and the door bowed and obliged. The guards within swiveled around in shock at the sudden intrusion. Smirking against such fatal hesitation, the captain drew her blasters and fired.
The carnage was immediate and brutal. Left behind, standing among fallen men and smoke, was a human twenty years over Jacqueline’s age, sitting prone behind a desk and face shocked and pale as a white star.
His eyes bulged. “No. It can’t be. You’re –“
Kicking him square in the chest, the captain knocked him to the ground and pinned him underfoot with her heel. He coughed and stared upwards with eyes wide in fear, face still pale as if he beheld an apparition, the barrel of a blaster leveled directly at him.
“Hey there,” Jacqueline greeted him, her tone a few notes into the range of friendly. “Got a message for you to deliver.”
His shoulders sagged in the slightest relief. Flashing a tenuous grin, he replied with a quaking voice: “Anything for you, love. Just like the old days,” he chuckled nervously. “So, what’s the message?”
The room lit up with the bright flash of a blaster bolt. His body twitched then lay limp on the ground.
“That,” Jacqueline replied, her friendly tone gone. Holstering her weapon and lowering to one knee, she set to work.
—-
The deepest alleys of Nar Shadda were littered with scenes of crime. Crumpled leaflets, discarded stim needles, refuse from both droid and humanoid, anything the destitute could spread along the ground lay scattered. It all rose in collective stench, silently telling hopeless tales.
In a central square to the alleys that branched endlessly to the city’s bottom, a body hung in plain view, a note pinned to the corpse:
Miss me? – V
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