Core City
Django's hover cycle comes to a stop. He manages to find a parking garage of sorts. It's more of a revolving elevator than anything. He steps off of his bike, and punches in a key code used by law enforcement, 2187. A small buzzer sounds off, and a gate creeps across the opening to the parking spot. A slight hum starts are the hover bike is swallowed down below the streets. A display window above the keypad illuminates with [B2-1984], a location marker for when he goes to retrieve the bike. He isn't quite sure yet though if he'll actually be able to come back for it. His mind races from thought to thought, plot to plot, scheme to scheme. "I could lead a whole battalion a' troopers to em'. They'd haul em in, I'd collect my bounty, and then I could call it a day fer a while. But fer what end? What if Kerr's right? Son of a banshee sure pretties up a story an' makes it believable. He coulda kilt me though. There is that. I coulda been a blood an' grease spot on th' bottom a' that hole, and he coulda gone on about his business. Instead he saves people. Feeds em. Arms em, and sends em on their way. That don't add up to my end a' the narrative. That ain't in character with any fugitive I ever saw. Thems the actions of a man who ain't got no reason to feel like he's done no wrong. An' truth be told, I can't prove nothin' on em. Hell, if anythang, he deserves a medal.
Django picks up his pack from the ground. He realizes he's been standing in the same spot staring off into space. He steps over the side of the walkway where he's been standing, and pulls out his datapad. He pulls up a map of the city streets, and after a moment finds the building he's looking for. It sits five blocks way. The city blocks are massive, but even on foot it wont take him very long to get there. He starts walking, still lost in his thoughts. "I can't just walk through the front door. Cameras'll pick me up an' ID me too quick. Still though, it'll take em' a while to figure out why I'm here. I wonder if there's a ventilation shaft somewhere".
Django presses on towards the data warehouse, nervously. "I ain't never seen no harm in bein able t' fly. An it ain't like if Vexember is removed from th' picture, thangs'll just go ta' poodoo. Sure th' government boys'll be upside down, but that don't change who's good and who's bad I reckon. The law'll be preserved one way or another, folks'll always find a way to have some sorta order. Despite folks like me reluctantly wreckin' it temporarily I guess".
Clouds all but obscure the low hanging sun. Thunder rolls in the distance.
Django decides to look for any sort of ventilation ducts he can. He's certain there will be some form of security at the entrances at the very least. If he can find one, he plans to lay low in a cantina until the sun sets further and he's under cover of darkness.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:36, Wed 25 Jan 2017.