Long ago... in a galaxy far away...
The Clone Wars have been raging for nearly a decade and are reaching a bloody crescendo. Coruscant itself has not escaped unscathed as it's infrastructure and populace have seen a share of these brutal clashes on their own soil.
With destruction, homelessness, slavery, starvation, refugees and civilian death tolls on the rise the citizens of the Galactic Republic grow distrustful of the Jedi (who seem to be at the heart of the conflict but are notorious for not getting their hands dirty) and desperate for an end to the fighting. Separatist forces only seem to expand while Republic resources dwindle.
Propaganda and rumors of a mysterious terror in the Outer Rim circle the streets of the Galactic Seat. The people turn to their senate and their beloved Chancellor Palatine for protection and answers.
Deeply tinted by the setting sun, an orange haze drifted through the streets of the lower Coruscant slums. Citizens trudged along as usual. Some were headed home, some to stand in food lines and others simply wandered because that was all they could do. At their feet refuse and rubble littered the walkways and alleys. All around shifty characters waited in shadows and the foundations of the structures that towered into the sky had become damaged and neglected. Above them messages from the senate and Chancellor Palpatine as well as news from the war front chattered away in a near unbroken stream. Those lucky enough to not end up down hear zipped around above them though the traffic had slowed substantially in years past. The atmosphere was anything but silent but coalesced into a tense ambiance that became a constant down here. Until it was broken by the scream of blaster fire and and the low reverberation of someone being thrown out of a forcefield.
Citizens scattered from the front of the canteena with shouts of shock and confused murmurs to either hurry along or stay and watch from a safe distance. An ex-patron rolled off his back to his hands and knees with a pained hiss. After shaking off the initial shock he stumbled to his feet, staggered and sprinted forward as two more people rushed out of the front door.
"Move!" he gave little notice before bolting through the small crowd. The other two came hot on his heels.
The glowing lights of shops and homes along the darkening streets became unfocused, blurred, streaks of color as he ran. Every now and again the orange sky would burst through a split in the buildings. Reassurances that he was moving faster than he felt he was since the feeling in his legs had been somewhat reduced by the evening's bad decisions. Wait, which senator had he told the Arconan to go shove his... Dammit! What had he said!? It was so witty too! He wanted to keep that one! In his efforts to remember what had transpired only minutes ago the Togruta lost his sense of surroundings and sprinted into the street and found himself face to face with an oncoming rubbish hauler. The horn blared loudly and the headlights blinded him lighting up his nerves like an inferno. He overcame the startled pause and wheeled out of the path of the hauler which blasted past with only inches between them. The draft ripped at his clothes and lekku but he was unscathed. His heart was racing and he grinned. His perusers slowed to a jog with stunned expressions on their faces.
"HA!," he yelled at them while backing up, "Look at that! I'm untouchabl--" another horn blared but this time the sideways, out of control vehicle hurdled toward him and he didn't have time to move. A silent curse caught in his throat as he pulled a stupid face, as his life didn't flash before his eyes because he was too scared to think, and as he instinctively held his hands out like that would really stop nearly two tons of steel. As if hitting an invisible wall the hovering transport wheeled into the air above him, the doors buckling inward on impact. It flipped once and struck the ground on his other side sending sparks and shattered pieces flying. The chassis skidded along until friction brought it to a stop. The people inside were shook up and looked around trying to figure out what happened. Jaws dropped. Silence. Even the Togruta was a little unsure of himself at this point... but he was still alive.
"Un-fucking-touchable," he hissed.
"Kill him!" the Arconan screamed. A rapid burst of blaster fire tore past his head, one blast singing his jacket and burning his shoulder. He ducked, spun and started running again. Still extremely lithe for being three sheets to the wind.
"Dammit!" he cursed. This. This is exactly why everybody kept telling him he was a bad drinker and should stay away from canteenas.
He took a turn down a narrow, barren walk-way where little light was able to reach. The area was getting more familiar. With out needing to see it he launched himself up and over a short barrier and relaxed for the long fall he knew came after it. An eight foot drop and he hit the ground letting his legs buckle and rolled to absorb the hit. Then underestimated the momentum he had built stumbled and landed on his ass. More blaster fire as the two morons struggled with the wall. He rolled out of the way and lurched back into a run. He was getting close to the scrap and repair yard where he worked. Confidence rose as he was sure he could lose them in the maze of twisted metal and parts and then sleep this all off like it had never happened. Having done it many times before in the months he had been on Coruscant he scaled one of the houses near by, hurried over the low rooftops and jumped a gap to a steel ramp that surrounded and barricaded the massive yard.
The sun was down and now the furnaces and bursts of flame from the mills and refineries in the area lit the way. It was a long slide down the ramp and the razor wire fence at the bottom was approaching fast. Gotta time it right. a nasty scar down his right shin was testament to timing it wrong. With roughly ten feet to go he burst off the ramp with all his strength and sailed over the fence. He hit the other side hard and skidded to a stop, crashing to his knees and side. He couldn't see them anywhere.
With a relieved sigh he got up and brushed off the dust. His body ached and his head spun but he was still in good shape and would live to see another day on this hell-hole of a planet. He looked up at the sky obstructed by towers and smoke. The traffic high above was only just visible and the stars beyond that were even harder to see, but they were still there. Almost immediately after arriving he had realized that coming to Coruscant was a bad idea. The Republic was falling apart at its core and this was not the safe haven it had been made out to be around the rest of the galaxy. He wouldn't make the same mistake again. One of these days, one way or another he was getting off this rock.
Over his shoulder he could hear voices. He swore and scrambled into the rows of scrap looking for a place to hide as the men looked for a way in.
