The City

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

The pair traipsed through the dimly lit streets quietly, navigating through innumerable alleyways and side-streets. It seemed that Vincent’s guide new the layout of Coruscant quite well; the cloaked gunslinger had long since lost track of where they were, though they had been walking for nearly an hour now. Ral strode quickly, never checking to ensure his mercenary was still following. Was this a symbol of trust, or of foolishness?

“Not too much farther now,” Ral spoke over his shoulder, sidestepping a gruff-looking alien. Vincent followed suit, scanning the area with his keen eyes. “We should be there in a few minutes. Sorry about the scenic route, I’m not exactly on the empire’s buddy list.”

The ex-Turk smirked. “I figured.” The circumstance under which they had met said as much. “So, your brother,” Vincent began, changing subjects, “he’s knowledgeable?”

The guide chuckled nervously, “Tal knows more than he should. It’s what got him in trouble in the first place.”

Vincent chuckled. “Ral and Tal?”

“I know, I know. Our dear dad was that sort of man. We usually go by our middle names.” He glanced backward at his cohort, “Anything you need to know, Tal can find it out for you.”

The pale prime was not so sure. His mind flashed briefly back to his home, the smiling faces of his friends waiting for him. ‘Let’s hope.”

Moments later they emerged from the darkness of the alley to a brightly lit courtyard. Daylight had arrived, bringing with it the energy that Coruscant was known for. The usual smog of the city was not quite as thick as it soon would be, industry only beginning to spring back to life after its slumber. A small crowd had been developing over the last few hours as workers began to awaken, noise following them; lifeforms of various shapes and sizes now pulsed through the area, some commuting and others visiting the local shops. Frantic humanoids waved from their stalls, contributing to the din.
The duo of newcomers weaved their way through the crowd, headed toward a large building adorn with still larger blinking billboards. Vincent cocked an eyebrow at the building, noting that the advertisements seemed larger than the establishment itself. Indeed, every square inch of the building seemed to crawl with various marquees and ads. Ral and Vincent headed straight for this building, leaving the gunslinger to wonder how this building could possibly be associated with any kind of prison.

“Here we are.” Ral muttered, stopping abruptly at the door. “You’d better lead,” he said, donning a pair of dark glasses.

“Not that I anticipate any issues.”

The prime nodded, pushing the door open. “Where are we?”

“West 3,423rd station, just follow the crowd.” Ral answered from close behind Vincent. It unnerved the ex-Turk to have someone he barely knew out of direct sight, though it scarcely mattered a moment later, as they stepped into the crowded building.

The facility was deceivingly large, with vaulted ceilings and the overall footage stretching much farther than he could make out. This, he admitted to himself, was likely due to the huge throng of people he was navigating though. Many were taller than he, and many more were wider. Vincent could make out the outlines of three separate gift shops, a food court and a half dozen or so performers forming a pyramid up ahead. Slightly confused, the cloaked man continued to follow the others, glancing around frequently to take in the rest of the building.

“Toward the travel desk, on the right.” Ral muttered from behind him. He had since donned an odd-looking hat, not dissimilar to a traffic cone.

Vincent took heed, parting from the crowd to head toward a long metal desk, behind which stood many bored-looking attendants. The sign over their heads flickered continuously, showing various schedules and time zones. He thought it looked very much like what one might find at an airport.

“Vasty Deep.” Ral whispered into his ear, passing a small felt bag into his hand. Vincent nodded, taking the sack and making for the desk.