Nes'ka I'nad ti'a lo'noga and Dram's Cantina
Coruscant, Level 4914
D5W4M2Y135
1456
Laeonas sunk his teeth into the fruit, and he chewed. Slowly.
It was tough. He had a hard time chewing it, but he didn't care.
The past few days had been a blur. He had gone from bar to bar all across the upper levels. He even went all the way up to 5127 for a day or two, and he marveled at just how bright the sun was, and how massive the buildings were. It was a strange experience, as he had spent nearly all of his time on this world's lower levels.
But he needed the change of atmosphere after what he had experienced days ago. He still tried to wrap his head around it.
Saber.
Terrorist.
Arcanist. Mask. Saber.
Saber. It's what she had called it. The lady on the holo. She had called it a saber. He was still trying to figure out where he had heard it, but the alcohol that was practically permeating his entire body was making it difficult. So he would just drink more to get his mind off of it, and than he would inevitably wind up thinking about it again. This cycle had left him with half as many credits as he had been holding onto, but he hadn't cared.
The evening on level 4914 was pleasant. The bars were brighter here and the tabs were way more expensive, but the drink was amazing. He had tried just about everything, some drinks he had never even heard of-- which was the case with most drinks. He was hardened, but he was still just 19; having disposable income and the total freedom to spend it was a new thing for him.
And yet a few days ago he had been shooting terrorists.
Why the hell was he doing any of this anyway? To become rich? To become famous? There were quadrillions of people on this world- he didn't buy that only a trillion lived here. The city's density on the top level alone was greater than even the worst blocks on any city he had been to on Brentaal, not to mention the lower levels, where there was nothing but endless, endless blocks. A single level could probably house trillions on their own.
Quadrillions of people just living here, their day to day lives all they've ever known, all competing for water and air and food and the means to acquire it. How was he any different from any of them? How did he fit into this mess of a planet?
"You can lift things with yer' head. You shoot good enough, and if anyone's kriffin' stupid enough to get within' two feet of ya in a fight, they'll be on the ground with yer' boot o'er their throat faster than they can say 'I'll give you anything you want, don't hurt me!' Laugh it up Laeonas, yer a rancor amongst Bantha." A voice told him, familiar. But was it his own, really?
He was starting to wonder if it mattered.
But it didn't matter now. The food was good, this bar didn't close for another 53 minutes, and he had already rented a hotel room a couple levels down. Who knows, maybe he'd rent company to.
With a sigh, he'd stand up and walk over to the bar. "Gimme s'more Correllian ale. I ain't shitfaced en'ough yet."
@Kenico