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Rick Craft


The name still stuck out in his Detective Rick Craft's mind even after several weeks of recovery in CURW. Craft couldn't shake the images of the inhabitants of that poor damned planet from his mind. He'd been there when it erupted, any sort of order seemingly dissipating into thin air as the capital became a war zone. Rick had barely gotten out himself and had paid for his life with broken bones and the lives of a few of the City's residents. The fact that CPD had cleared it as self defense didn't make what he'd done feel any better.

He still remembered the faces.

Rick took a drag of his cigarette and leaned on one of the many railings on Coruscant's mid level walkways as the sun began to set. Tomorrow he was cleared to resume duty. For Rick it was a double edged sword.

The Hapan's eyes settled on a cantina and he resolved to spend the evening with strangers who didn't want to kill him. The well dressed detective put out the remainder of the smoke and walked into the bar with a strange feeling of apathy.