Rolling in the 'Deep [Exemplary]

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

“Second gate on the left,” the female off-worlder muttered, collecting the omnilium Ral had offered. She dropped a pair of lanyards on the counter, each adorn with a single yellow tag the size and shape of an index card.

Ral nodded, jabbing his companion in the side and gesturing toward the end of the counter. Vincent grabbed the neckwear and led on, following the queue down a hallway toward what looked like some variety of café. The gunslinger marveled at the size of the establishment, it appeared much larger on the inside. The walls of the building were made of the typical brushed aluminum-looking metal that was the norm in Coruscant, each rising to meet the ceiling some 15 feet above. The hall started wide at the end of the desk, but tapered toward the end, narrowing to nearly single-file width. The eatery at the end of the hall looked quite small, his eyes only catching site of a few tables. Despite this, the crowd continued to file in. As they reached the end of the hallway, Vincent was struck with confusion. He now stood at their apparent destination, though there were no visible means of exit.

Ral quickly caught up with him, snatching a lanyard from the ex-Turk’s gloved hand. “Follow my lead,” he muttered, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The squirrely man donned his lanyard, stepping up to the metal wall. He tapped the corner of his pass on the wall, wisps of yellow rippling from the point of contact across the metal. The wall seemed to wobble for a moment, before returning to its normal consistency. Smirking, he turned to face Vincent. “See ya’ on the other side.” With that, he stepped backward through the wall and vanished from sight.

- -       -

“Telepasses.” Ral chuckled, tossing his hat and glasses onto the floor. “Love ‘em.” He removed the lanyard, dropping the unit into a nearby trashcan.

Vincent glanced down at his pass, which was now a drab shade of gray. The wall that he had just stepped through was of the rough-looking wood plank variety. The spot from which he had emerged looked completely nondescript, identical to the rest of the small room the he had arrive in. He touched a finger to the wall, feeling the expected amount of resistance.

“One way passes. No re-admittance,” his partner explained, yanking the card from the cloaked man’s neck. “Let’s get going; I can feel the jet-lag already.”

Vincent and his client emerged from the receiving chamber, stepping out into brilliant sunlight. Ral shielded his eyes from the glare, his brow knitted. They had emerged from a small, wooden hut. He and Ral had been alone upon arrival and the house held no furniture. Perhaps this hut existed solely as a drop-off point?

“Well, here we are: Vasty Deep.” Ral glanced at his companion. “From the looks of you, we should have brought along sunscreen.”

The dark-haired man gazed out at his surroundings, feeling the tang of saltwater in the air as he took a deep breath. The air was warm and moist; the distant sounds of chatter and laughter met his ears. His red irises focused his gaze at the immediate area, acknowledging the string of huts or various sizes that dotted the beach as well as the people splashing where the ocean met the sand. The familiar feeling on confusion bubbled up within his mind. A prison on the beach?