LOCATION: McYoda's, One of Hundred of Thousands
ALLIES: One Sith, The People of Coruscant
ENEMIES: Omega Protectorate, Mandalorians
OBJECTIVE: Suicide Attacks, Mass Murder, Terrorism
Leena and Sandra chatted a metric tonne of absolutely nothing, filled with tropes, sass and mild scatological references, it was hilarious and I'm sorry you missed it but in the light of recent events chronicling that seemed to be of little importance.
Within the hallowed walls of McYoda's sat a plethora of innocent civilians, excited, on the edge of the seats and fearful for their homes. No matter how many times Coruscant experienced war the people would never truly become accustomed to the horrors that came with it. When the One Sith came, they went out of their way to avoid harming a single civilian's life.
Evidently the Omega Protectorate did not hold the same concerns, their panicked attack having already caused more than their fair share of mid-air collisions in the prime of Coruscant traffic.
The footage recorded by the droves of Coruscant's hovercams littered displays and drew both gasps, screams and cheers as their heroes battled their villains and said villains so dutifully ran away.
Then it came.
All screens inside of the fast food restaurant flickered out in a haze of static and in perfect unison changed to the same report.
BREAKING REPORT:
IN A DESPERATE ATTEMPT TO DESTROY CORUSCANT THE OMEGA PROTECTORATE ARE ATTEMPTING TO CRASH THE STARFALL INTO THE IMPERIAL PALACE.
Leena's heart got caught in her throat. She worked there, in the offices. Had she actually come into work today, she...oh Force...
EVACUATION PROCEDURES ARE IN EFFECT, HOWEVER THE ESTIMATED GROUND CASUALTIES ARE AT 16,000. IT IS UNDERSTOOD THAT THE USUAL WORKING CREW CAPACITY FOR THE STARFALL STANDS AT AROUND 40,000 HOWEVER CORUSCANT NEWS NETWORK CANNOT CONFIRM HOW MANY PERSONEL ARE ABOARD THE COMMAND SHIP AT THIS TIME.
The mood around them in McYoda's turned sombre, mouths left hanging open, some with hands clasped over. It was a deathly silence, all with the exception of one woman, looked to be in her fifties who let out a panicked sob and began to desperately rummage through her purse for her personal communicator. “JOHNNY! JOHNNY WORKS IN THE PALACE! HE...HE...HE'S MY SON!”
A number of customers and staff alike in the McYoda's restaurant went to the woman, comforting, hugging, telling her that it would be alright, as over and over again she attempted to call her son, her Johnny.
No parent should ever have to outlive their child.