Fulcrum
Kaleesh. Mandalorian. Detective.
Tagging: Subject 73 Red
For what must have been the seventeenth time since he arrived in the Ryloth system, Fulcrum wondered if what he was doing was a good idea. Overthinking his decisions after he had already made them was a nasty habit that the Kaleesh had picked up through the years... but he'd be damned if he was turning back now. A Mandalorian's word was their word, for good or ill, and he was bound to see it through to the very end. Even if it meant working with the Alliance... and stepping foot upon a world that had just been ransacked by his people. Most of them wouldn't be happy to see a Mandalorian. Most never really were.
But he had to try. If he could even save just one...
Fulcrum was torn away from his stupor as a voice crackled into life inside his helmet, a comm signal for him and him alone. That hadn't taken long. The Alliance operators here were busy, but it seemed those with search and rescue experience were in short supply and high demand.
"Paging Fulcrum... Paging Fulcrum. Please report to staging area B-29/A. I repeat, please report to staging area B-29/A. Your partner will be waiting."
With haste, the Kaleesh stood to his full height, pushing away from the battered and crumbling wall behind him. Before him, a massive refugee camp extended as far as the eye could see-- with all manner of medical tents, soup kitchens and temporary housing. Most of the twi'lek around him simply refused to look at him. It was the children that gawked in astonishment or fled in fear as he passed, digitigrade legs carrying him swiftly towards his staging area.
For what must have been the seventeenth time since he arrived in the Ryloth system, Fulcrum wondered if what he was doing was a good idea. Overthinking his decisions after he had already made them was a nasty habit that the Kaleesh had picked up through the years... but he'd be damned if he was turning back now. A Mandalorian's word was their word, for good or ill, and he was bound to see it through to the very end. Even if it meant working with the Alliance... and stepping foot upon a world that had just been ransacked by his people. Most of them wouldn't be happy to see a Mandalorian. Most never really were.
But he had to try. If he could even save just one...
Fulcrum was torn away from his stupor as a voice crackled into life inside his helmet, a comm signal for him and him alone. That hadn't taken long. The Alliance operators here were busy, but it seemed those with search and rescue experience were in short supply and high demand.
"Paging Fulcrum... Paging Fulcrum. Please report to staging area B-29/A. I repeat, please report to staging area B-29/A. Your partner will be waiting."
With haste, the Kaleesh stood to his full height, pushing away from the battered and crumbling wall behind him. Before him, a massive refugee camp extended as far as the eye could see-- with all manner of medical tents, soup kitchens and temporary housing. Most of the twi'lek around him simply refused to look at him. It was the children that gawked in astonishment or fled in fear as he passed, digitigrade legs carrying him swiftly towards his staging area.