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- Aug 12, 2011
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Rocking from side to side, Inspector Fhlass swayed with the experienced stance of a monorail ticket collector. After all, he'd been in the job for 15 years now - "no one better at your job", his boss used to say, before he left for a better paid position on one of the elite, high-class transit companies higher up in Coruscant's towers.
Perhaps that's why he was so good at his job - nobody else was willing to work the Blue Line, so far down in the depths of the planet-city.
Today was no different to any other day. Running the lines back and forth from sector to sector: 'Temple' - 'Senate' - 'Dorm One' -'HighFall' - 'Dreamtown' - 'Fulcrum', then back again.
Honestly, he didn't notice the stops any more, lost in the monotony of collecting tickets from the various characters seated in the old transit car's musty seating. It was a good thing he didn't notice the passengers anyway - the kind of people who took the Blue Line didn't want to be noticed.
"Take this guy", he thought to himself, holding out one of his meaty fists for the cloaked figure's ticket. "Zabrak, male, tall, scarred, hiding his face in the hood of his cloak. What's his story?"
What he actually said was "Tickets please."
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"Tickets please." The portly human said, practically bursting out of his conductor's uniform.
T'ruk hid a sneer, and reached into the folds of his cloak for his ticket. He felt his hand move across the holster on his hip, the comforting weight of his blaster snug inside the old leather. Finally, in one of the pockets of his utility belt, he found the ticket and handed it over, making sure to keep his dark-skinned, scarred face hidden inside the hood of his cloak.
"Thank-you, sir", the conductor said automatically, and toddled off down the transit car's wide aisle as the car rocked from side to side.
T'ruk let the sneer cross his lips, his mind fixated on his mission alone, knowing that before the 5:56 made it to Fulcrum he would be rich, or dead.
'SENATE', announced the voice of the Blue Line's droid pilot, over the intercom 'SENATE STATION'.
T'ruk leaned back in his seat, and casually observed the carriage as the car pulled into the station in the lee of the massive senate hall.
Some people left, others got on - and a pair of armed thugs hefted a large, heavy crate aboard. moving towards the back of the train, past T'ruk's first-car seat.
The zabrak's eyes narrowed, and he felt his hands clench in the folds of his black cloak, as the crate was carried past. The prize was onboard, and he had three stops to get it, and get off.
Little did he know, that he wasn't alone in that goal...
Perhaps that's why he was so good at his job - nobody else was willing to work the Blue Line, so far down in the depths of the planet-city.
Today was no different to any other day. Running the lines back and forth from sector to sector: 'Temple' - 'Senate' - 'Dorm One' -'HighFall' - 'Dreamtown' - 'Fulcrum', then back again.
Honestly, he didn't notice the stops any more, lost in the monotony of collecting tickets from the various characters seated in the old transit car's musty seating. It was a good thing he didn't notice the passengers anyway - the kind of people who took the Blue Line didn't want to be noticed.
"Take this guy", he thought to himself, holding out one of his meaty fists for the cloaked figure's ticket. "Zabrak, male, tall, scarred, hiding his face in the hood of his cloak. What's his story?"
What he actually said was "Tickets please."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Tickets please." The portly human said, practically bursting out of his conductor's uniform.
T'ruk hid a sneer, and reached into the folds of his cloak for his ticket. He felt his hand move across the holster on his hip, the comforting weight of his blaster snug inside the old leather. Finally, in one of the pockets of his utility belt, he found the ticket and handed it over, making sure to keep his dark-skinned, scarred face hidden inside the hood of his cloak.
"Thank-you, sir", the conductor said automatically, and toddled off down the transit car's wide aisle as the car rocked from side to side.
T'ruk let the sneer cross his lips, his mind fixated on his mission alone, knowing that before the 5:56 made it to Fulcrum he would be rich, or dead.
'SENATE', announced the voice of the Blue Line's droid pilot, over the intercom 'SENATE STATION'.
T'ruk leaned back in his seat, and casually observed the carriage as the car pulled into the station in the lee of the massive senate hall.
Some people left, others got on - and a pair of armed thugs hefted a large, heavy crate aboard. moving towards the back of the train, past T'ruk's first-car seat.
The zabrak's eyes narrowed, and he felt his hands clench in the folds of his black cloak, as the crate was carried past. The prize was onboard, and he had three stops to get it, and get off.
Little did he know, that he wasn't alone in that goal...