Tyler Braun
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Dec 21, 2015
- Messages
- 12
- Reaction score
- 10
Tyler broke his number one rule, YOU NEVER BREAK THAT RULE! He ducked into the Cantina, the familiar stench of booze and urine flooding his nostrils. As much as he despised Makem Te, the planet was a perfect haven to hide from the people he'd crossed. Arid, desolate and full of smugglers and pirates just like him so he wouldn't stand out. His black duster drifted behind him as he found a seat along the back wall, eyes canning the dimly lit interior as well as watching the door. Tyler wasn't about to be caught off guard, a hand wrapped under the table, aiming his blaster directly across from him, the grips squeaked with leather on leather as he white knuckled them.
"Keep it together" he muttered to himself, a bead of sweat coming down around the rim of his goggles, crossing his nose and to his lips. The salty brine was in sharp contrast to the dry, arid air. He quickly lifted his goggles from his face, the band leaving a sweat line as he set them on the table and shook out his black hair, which was dirty and ragged from years of abuse. His hands shook, the blaster under the table shivered as his entire body was thumping with adrenaline. He fumbled into his duster pocket and produced a small computer data drive, holding it between his thumb and index finger.
"450,000 Credits for this, no wonder they paid so much for it" he whispered, staring down at the strange chip. Tyler had morals, despite being a dirty rotten Smuggler he had a heart. He was holding a plan for a mass slaving run, estimated 1,700 people to be enslaved after a group of Pirates attacked a series of yachts traveling from Naboo to the Core Worlds. The pay off, supposedly in the billions of credits and it was all planned on his chip. He essentially stole billions of credits from a pirate gang, and now was going to pay for it. He was torn though, the credit on delivery was plenty of money and why did he care if some people got enslaved, they weren't him. On the other hand, those were innocent people, and he could save them if he got this information to the right people.
"You really got into it now Tyler" he said to himself, his dark eyes scanning the cantina, looking for any signs the people who were after him were here. The young pilot had evaded them twice, though he knew they would soon find him again. Now came the ultimate question, sell the chip and run, or deliver the chip to the good guys and hope they can protect him long enough to run. He ordered a small drink, hand never leaving his blaster as his heart raced. Why did he break his number one rule!
"Keep it together" he muttered to himself, a bead of sweat coming down around the rim of his goggles, crossing his nose and to his lips. The salty brine was in sharp contrast to the dry, arid air. He quickly lifted his goggles from his face, the band leaving a sweat line as he set them on the table and shook out his black hair, which was dirty and ragged from years of abuse. His hands shook, the blaster under the table shivered as his entire body was thumping with adrenaline. He fumbled into his duster pocket and produced a small computer data drive, holding it between his thumb and index finger.
"450,000 Credits for this, no wonder they paid so much for it" he whispered, staring down at the strange chip. Tyler had morals, despite being a dirty rotten Smuggler he had a heart. He was holding a plan for a mass slaving run, estimated 1,700 people to be enslaved after a group of Pirates attacked a series of yachts traveling from Naboo to the Core Worlds. The pay off, supposedly in the billions of credits and it was all planned on his chip. He essentially stole billions of credits from a pirate gang, and now was going to pay for it. He was torn though, the credit on delivery was plenty of money and why did he care if some people got enslaved, they weren't him. On the other hand, those were innocent people, and he could save them if he got this information to the right people.
"You really got into it now Tyler" he said to himself, his dark eyes scanning the cantina, looking for any signs the people who were after him were here. The young pilot had evaded them twice, though he knew they would soon find him again. Now came the ultimate question, sell the chip and run, or deliver the chip to the good guys and hope they can protect him long enough to run. He ordered a small drink, hand never leaving his blaster as his heart raced. Why did he break his number one rule!