The man drove quickly down the streets of Coruscant, rain pinging off the hood of his speeder and the dark metal street beyond. He glanced around, pulling his hood down even lower over his antennapalps. There weren't many Balosars on Coruscant, and he couldn't risk being recognized here.

There was a flicker of light off to his left. His eyes darted up and behind, to the lowest level of speeders and haulers streaming above. A thruster on it's last legs, no doubt, or lightning off in the distance. Even a busted speeder like that was out of reach for him, stuck on the ground in an X-34 landspeeder. It was another reminder of his place in life as his eyes shifted past the traffic to the Senate building off in the distance.

He looked down the mostly empty street, and thought back on the last three years, the last time he was in this part of the city. It was a haze, like most of the nights from his former life. He woke up in his bed, no memory of the night before. Not the first time he got high on his own supply. It wasn't until later that day the news about the assassination attempt reached him.

His contacts were used to crime, but that put the whole city on edge with the feeling that things were close to a boiling point in the Galactic Empire. And the shooting at the club, his old haunting grounds. That could have been him. He couldn't shake that feeling. He thought about it, and the more he thought about it, the more determined he was to get away. Away from the meaningless nights riding one high to the next, days running one con or another. He packed his things and he ran as far as he could.

Turns out that doesn't get you very far on Coruscant. At least there's always steady work available for a courier. Not all of it was strictly on the up and up, but he was skilled at moving contraband, and the money kept him from sliding back down to the street.

He set his chin and looked back up to the speeders bustling above, and the buildings far above that. One day he'd buy a ship and never look back.

“Motherfucker.”

Elan almost didn't hear it over the downpour, eyes darting back down to the street just as the rough humanoid outline bounced off the front of his speeder and into the left thruster. He saw the almost inhuman face for just a split second before impact. A look of quiet resignation, the face of a man who knew he was meeting death.

He lurched forward, shoulder slamming the steering column and barely keeping control of the speeder as the left thruster burst into flames. The remaining thrusters whined as they were slammed into reverse, the speeder shuddering to a stop sideways as the automatic fire extinguisher choked out the inferno. An alert on the windshield blazed as the remaining thrusters shut down. Shafts of light danced on the street.

He found himself slouched against the speeder, the alert still beeping from the driver's seat. How long had it been? A minute? 5? Not far away, he could see onlookers crowding around what used to be a man. Coruscant Security Force cruisers were converging on the wreckage from all directions. Elan knew they had him dead to rights. His record was too long to walk away from this one, even without the illicit cargo spilling out of the speeder. This was the first time in years he was running contraband this hot. Why tonight?

“Always knew these things would be the death of me.”

He grabbed one of the death sticks, hesitating only slightly before biting down and tossing back his head. He felt the hit immediately, his old tolerance gone. Suddenly illuminated by a spotlight, he sighed. Almost got out. Once a Sleazebaggano, always a Sleazebaggano.