Royal Palace
Iziz || Onderon
Iziz || Onderon
Crow wasn’t sure why he was being escorted by two Onderonian fighters to the Royal Palace, but when two starfighters armed to the teeth with weapons primed asked him to do something he normally did.
“BeeGee, have we pulled any jobs in the sector recently?”
Truth be told, The Smuggler had fallen off the bandwagon and was feigning for a drink. He hated how much he depended on drink to get him through each day, but it wasn’t like he had anyone to hold him accountable. He let BeeGee take over flying and settled into the booth in The Blackbird’s lounge. He poured himself a glass of Dantooine Cognac and added a large ice cube.
From the lounge, he could hear the Starfighter’s barking orders at BeeGee, but the little droid was an expert at ignoring anyone it wanted to. As a matter of fact, the little droid hadn’t had a memory wipe since Crow had nearly been killed in his initial conflict with the Empire. At this point, BeeGee was as much of a free thinker as Crow was. Crow took a sip of his Cognac and then lit a cigarette. The last time he’d been incarcerated they hadn’t let him keep his ratty pack of cigarettes and he couldn’t think of a more inhumane punishment.
The Blackbird set down in a field behind the palace and from his limited vantage point, he could see a couple of armed goons, or Knights he supposed, trotting toward The Blackbird’s boarding ramp. Crow blew out a mouthful of smoke and stood. He wore his usual gear, minus his helmet. He caught his reflection in the mirror and for just a second he saw a glimmer of the man he used to be, but that second passed and all that was left looking back was Crow.
BeeGee twittered behind him, and Crow said, “Why don’t you hang back here bud?”
The little droid bristled, obviously irritated at being left on the ship, but to Crow’s surprise the little BG astromech gave up without much of a fight. Satisfied he took a deep breath and prepared for the oncoming violence.
The Knight’s stripped him of his weapons under some bull shit pretense that he was dangerous when he’d done nothing but comply with their demands. Then one shoved him from behind a bit too hard and sent Crow’s PTSD over the edge. He knew he was going to get roughed up. People in positions of authority rarely stuck to the rules they enforced. Against his better judgment, he lunged for the jerk. He got a few good licks in before they stunned him.
As he came too, Crow was surprised to find he wasn’t in a cell. Instead, he was sitting in a plush chair and a medical droid was attending to his busted lip. He could feel he was covered in fresh bruises. His throat felt raw which meant he’d been screaming, but other than a few bumps and scrapes he wasn’t terribly uncomfortable.
Crow’s eyes seemed to finally focus as he looked around the room, where in the hell was he?
@llamallove
“BeeGee, have we pulled any jobs in the sector recently?”
Truth be told, The Smuggler had fallen off the bandwagon and was feigning for a drink. He hated how much he depended on drink to get him through each day, but it wasn’t like he had anyone to hold him accountable. He let BeeGee take over flying and settled into the booth in The Blackbird’s lounge. He poured himself a glass of Dantooine Cognac and added a large ice cube.
From the lounge, he could hear the Starfighter’s barking orders at BeeGee, but the little droid was an expert at ignoring anyone it wanted to. As a matter of fact, the little droid hadn’t had a memory wipe since Crow had nearly been killed in his initial conflict with the Empire. At this point, BeeGee was as much of a free thinker as Crow was. Crow took a sip of his Cognac and then lit a cigarette. The last time he’d been incarcerated they hadn’t let him keep his ratty pack of cigarettes and he couldn’t think of a more inhumane punishment.
The Blackbird set down in a field behind the palace and from his limited vantage point, he could see a couple of armed goons, or Knights he supposed, trotting toward The Blackbird’s boarding ramp. Crow blew out a mouthful of smoke and stood. He wore his usual gear, minus his helmet. He caught his reflection in the mirror and for just a second he saw a glimmer of the man he used to be, but that second passed and all that was left looking back was Crow.
BeeGee twittered behind him, and Crow said, “Why don’t you hang back here bud?”
The little droid bristled, obviously irritated at being left on the ship, but to Crow’s surprise the little BG astromech gave up without much of a fight. Satisfied he took a deep breath and prepared for the oncoming violence.
The Knight’s stripped him of his weapons under some bull shit pretense that he was dangerous when he’d done nothing but comply with their demands. Then one shoved him from behind a bit too hard and sent Crow’s PTSD over the edge. He knew he was going to get roughed up. People in positions of authority rarely stuck to the rules they enforced. Against his better judgment, he lunged for the jerk. He got a few good licks in before they stunned him.
As he came too, Crow was surprised to find he wasn’t in a cell. Instead, he was sitting in a plush chair and a medical droid was attending to his busted lip. He could feel he was covered in fresh bruises. His throat felt raw which meant he’d been screaming, but other than a few bumps and scrapes he wasn’t terribly uncomfortable.
Crow’s eyes seemed to finally focus as he looked around the room, where in the hell was he?
@llamallove