The Dark Knight
Rebirth
Location: Coruscant
Equipment: Hawkbat Suit
Kayla's fingers hesitated over the cowl.
It lay on the table like a relic of another life; worn, black, and alien in a sense. The dim light from the cracked view-port caught the faint scarring along its edges, the proof of battles that seemed to belong to someone else. For a long time she just looked at it, listening to the distant hum of repulsorlifts above the sector. The people below the surface were given the worst deal by the rest of the galaxy. Any battle, engagement, bombing, always fell down onto the lower levels to deal with in the end.
There would hardly be any one there to help. To provide aid. Comfort. No, they were all on their own, the forgotten souls of this urban hellscape.
She could still taste the city in the air, metal, rain, and the faint acrid bite of ozone drifting down from the skylanes. The new leadership had taken charge, and with it, the cries of those who suffered under this new tyranny were silenced once again. The sounds of the streets she had grown familiar with was no more, the merchants shouted less, and even the gangs spoke in whispers now. But in the underlevels, the dark still breathed; even the Empire in all its might was limited down here.
She reached for the cowl. The surface was cold, stiff from disuse. It fit over her head with a quiet pull, the fabric settling into the familiar lines of her face. The world narrowed behind the tinted lenses, colors deepening into a sharp, crimson-tinged clarity. There would be no voice on the end of her comms now. Her father was gone, as were her friends; she was back to where it had all started.
Her heartbeat slowed. The street noise faded. She could feel the city again; its pulse.
Kayla was gone now.
The Hawkbat stood in her place.
She never should have left. It was a mistake. Her service to the Alliance, trying to work within the system. It was all for naught. It came down to the individual, to rally and motivate the others.
While she was no friend of the Empire, Hawkbat was larger than a simple ideology. It was a belief that no one should suffer injustice.
She had years of work to make up for, since her absence.
It would start tonight.
She rose, and strode to the walkway of the decaying landing pad, the structure creaking and groaning as she did so.
Once before, she had undergone a trial by fire.
She would do so again.
A burst of speed overtook her, she raced, armored soles thudding against the badly aged walkway; then she was falling.
Headfirst down into the lower levels of Coruscant.
Her body pulsed within the shell of her suit, her heart-beat thumping, her pupils dilated as the thrill of the action took hold.
It would be an eventful night, indeed.
Tags: Open