The Architect
BRACCA
Perhaps Adrien had skirted the line of fate ever so slightly. His political ambitions had brought him to the Slice, outside of the Imperial Confederacy and Black Sun territories. It was actually a successful endeavour. He had secured a private military contract with a local Imperial Warlord. Not only it will brings credits to Adrien, but also a chance to bring an Imperial local de facto ruler under his influence.
Spending one more night in the Grand Plaza, the ever so sleepless warden decides that the night will pass shorter down at the hotel’s lounge. He ordered a whiskey, flirted with the bartender, all goes well and time passes.
What he failed to account for is the fact that there are still some Crymorah Syndicate cells scattered across the planet, and he happened to cross the dying criminal organisation years ago.
A group of five armed men barged in the hotel lounge, with a menacing Twi’lek lady leading the group. “I’m surprised to see you here, tough lad,” she laughed manically, with her gun pressed on his spine that was just blown up months ago. He’s familiar with the Twi’lek, the cell’s second-in-command. Unhinged, maniacal, you say the word.
“Don’t you ever think of running you old kriff,” she growled, confident at her numeral advantage with other five Crymorah guarding the establishment door.
“What do you want…” Adrien muttered under his breath. Even if he can miraculously drag his broken body and fight his way out of the situation, he wouldn’t be able to reach his starship fast enough before another cell, or the corrupt officials of this planet are notified.
“Follow us, the boss cannot wait to see you again,”
