Venerable Senator
A New Chancellor and a New Threat
From the verdant domes of the Palace to the cascading silver waterfalls, the city gleamed under the Naboo sun, its streets thronged with citizens gathered to celebrate the impending inauguration of the Chancellor-elect
Holographic banners shimmered with the Chancellor's serene face, and the soaring, hopeful notes of a symphononic orchestra wove through the chatter and laughter. It was a day designed to reaffirm the galaxy's faith in peace, progress, and the benevolent light of the Republic.
Senatorial Aide Joren Vael stood on a secondary balcony of the Royal Palace, datapad in hand, monitoring the crowd's energy for Senator
The first discordant note was subtle.
A Twi'lek merchant, her lekku twitching violently, suddenly overturned her cart of glow-pears, sending fruit rolling like luminous marbles into the ankles of the crowd. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, held a frantic, glassy sheen. A murmur of annoyance rippled through those nearby, mistaken for clumsiness.
Then, a shout, raw and ragged, tore through a stanza of the symphony.
A group of humans and Rodians, their clothes worn at the edges, pushed violently through the throng near the statue of King
Panic, cold and immediate, began to replace confusion. Joren leaned over the balcony, his comlink buzzing with static-filled queries from security. This wasn't a protest; it was a full-scale riot. It happened with the speed of a shattering transparisteel viewport.
The screaming man on the statue produced a heavy wrench from his coat and hurled it with unnatural strength into the front of a parked Republic diplomatic speeder. The explosion of sound was the detonator.
From seemingly every side street and shadowed arcade, more of them poured forth, dozens, then hundreds. Their eyes shared that same terrifying vacancy, a hollow light that seemed to consume rather than reflect. Some wept black-tinged tears; others moved with a terrifying, coordinated frenzy, their limbs vibrating with excess, inhuman energy.
The first signs of the Heinite Serum was on full, horrific display.
The celebratory crowd became a sea of terror. The symphony cut off, replaced by the shrieks of the mob and the screams of the fleeing. Flags became torches. Offerings of flowers became projectiles.
The agitators, cold-eyed provocateurs with no trace of the Serum's physical marks, who had whispered the right words in the right ears for weeks blended into the chaos, directing the fury of the addicts. A kiosk selling commemorative holograms was engulfed in flame, orange tongues licking at the serene image of the new Chancellor.
Joren watched, frozen for a heartbeat, as a phalanx of High Republic Forces, resplendent in their armor, moved to form a line. They were met not with fear, but with a terrifying indifference. A Serum-fueled woman, slight of build, took a point-blank stun blast and kept stumbling forward, shoving a guard into the mob before three more bolts finally dropped her.
Last edited: