A lonely Togruta was a sad, scared Togruta, and Ruzaan was feeling very lonely indeed. He’d come to Nar Shadda to assist a Knight in busting a humanoid trafficking ring, but he’d no sooner met Master Plarkas when the two Jedi had been set upon by several people infected with the AMS virus. Although the Jedi were vaccinated against the virus, the vaccine predictably did not protect one against being torn to shreds by the rampaging zombies. Shaking his head to banish the mental image of Master Plarkas’ last moments, Ruzaan urged himself to keep going. Maneuverability was one of the only advantages he had over the zombies, and he had to put some distance between himself and his pursuers while they solved the problem of the locked double doors leading to the abandoned warehouse Ruzaan had fled to. Judging by the sound of fists pounding against creaking durasteel, he didn’t have much time.
The warehouse was dark, with only dim light spilling in though partially-broken windows like the one Ruzaan had crawled through to provide any means of making out one’s surroundings. The ceiling was tall, extending at least three stories above the ground level, with a maze of metal catwalks, ladders, and stairs disappearing up into the shadowy corners of the warehouse. On any other day, Ruzaan would’ve happily scaled the skeletal structure and waited until the zombies got bored and left, but he’d not escaped the initial ambush unscathed, either. His breathing was shallow, and his bandaged ribs ached; just his luck that one of the zombies had struck his still-healing injury first suffered on Jakku. A nagging voice in his head told him that he had no business being on this mission in the first place, but with the Jedi Order increasingly hard pressed to serve the galaxy, it was all hands on deck. The Togruta sighed. It was not, he concluded, looking good for the home team. He was dirty, exhausted, wounded…
… and alone.
@llamallove