[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171212/91f3ad8a99931aacae3d67e237c3fb36.png[/img]
[hr]

[u][color=white][b]Three hours before cell-block detachment.[/b][/color][/u]

He sat in the centre of his cell, silent as always. He was focused on the teachings of the Creed, and nothing but the Creed. During the entire flight, he had only spoke to the guards, and even then, that was rare. Only a ‘thank you’ whenever he was brought food, or a farewell whenever they left. He had barely spoken to any inmates, however. Something about the majority of them just… put him off. He was used to shooting them, not talking to them. 

[color=gray][b]Your mind is wandering, pull it back. Focus.[/b][/color]

The voice of his long deceased mentor rung in his ears, and Nerazi’ra listened. He chose to clear his mind, and focus on nothing, and yet something. His mind simply faded, and time flew by.

[u][color=white][b]During cell-block detachment.[/b][/color][/u]

Then he flew by.

Nerazi’ra hit the side of his cell [i]hard.[/i] Something happened to the ship, of that much he was sure, but exactly what, he couldn’t even begin to fathom. The blast doors had shut, so that only meant one thing; either the oxygen was compromised on the other side, which explained the doors shutting, but not the sudden lurching of the ship, [i]or[/i], the entire cell-block detached from the ship, which explained the doors shutting, as well as the lurching, as well as what felt like him being pulled against the side of the cell even moreso than before. 

Yeah, detachment seemed like the most likely now.

His eyes closed, and he felt at peace. He’d been ready to die for some years now, though admittedly this wasn’t how he thought he’d go out. His mind wandered off to the reason he was in this situation in the first place. 

The little Sapishte girl that he met on that fateful day. He felt a sibling bond with her almost instantly, like he would lie down his life for her, and as irony would have it, it appeared that he was going to do just that. The brotherly love he felt for her somehow felt natural, like he had displayed that emotion long, long ago. Maybe he had a brother or a sister he forgot about? Who knew. What he did know, however, was that he wasn’t going to find out if he ever did. With a resounding crack that seemed to vibrate through Nerazi’ra’s everything, the cell-block hit the ground, and he lost consciousness. 

[u][color=white][b]About 3 minutes after landing.[/b][/color][/u]

His optic eye turned on first, glancing around the cell, piercing through the rubble and the dust. No hostiles, at least for now. The rest of his eyes slowly opened, and he let out a soft groan. At least one of his ribs were broken, possibly more. He staggered to his feet, and started digging around the rubble, looking for his hat. He stopped mid-search to look up at his cell door, his enhanced hearing picking up sounds he only assumed could be footsteps. As if on cue, the head of an inmate came into view. 

A rapist and a murderer. He had heard him brag about some of his victims, and knew his face since he was in the cell opposite Nerazi'ra's. Without hesitation, Nerazi’ra pulled out one of his revolvers and put a round straight through the man’s eye, effectively blowing the rear portion of his skull to pieces. Without skipping a beat, the grizzled cow[s]bug[/s]boy went back to searching for his hat. After another half minute, he pushed over his overturned bed, and found the dustier than normal cowboy hat, placed it on his head and neatly adjusted it. He then gathered whatever ammo he could, and tried opening his cell door. 

[i]Thunk![/i]

He made the Arraxi equivalent of a frown, and put his shoulder against the door, then pushed again. He made slight gain, but nothing amazing. He sighed, took two steps back, then ran into the door, throwing his weight against its own, and, to his surprise, it opened, and he fell straight down onto the body of the inmate he shot. Least he had something to break his fall. 

And then the scream came. It was something that should never have left the mouth of a breathing creature, but it did. With both of his revolvers held at ready, he hoped that whatever made that scream didn’t survive one or two bullets. He wasn’t sure if he could waste so many of his valuable rounds.