The Rebel Faction

Under the flickering almost dead lights of a bar sign a body lies. Slumped and twisted in an awkward shape so that the spin is half doubled over back on itself, whilst the arms form a cross over the rag doll forms eyes. The gutter water oozes around the shape being constantly absorbed by the light weight clothes it wears. People walk by it and disregard it, or mock it – they are better off. They do not have to worry about being mugged and thrown into the drains. Alcohol does not lace their breath, and drug addictions do not ensnare them. Debts do not hold them back and assassins do not stalk them. Spies do not watch them with prying eyes and guns do not find their way aimed to their head.

This is life. This is how things turned out. So much promise is held in a new birth and thanks to the jacked up world around us, minds are warped. Minds are corrupt. Corruption is in the government. The government runs us all. We are all nothing but slaves, nothing but drones. We are free to leave, for without us the hive mind is nothing, but we remain servants to the system and obey its will. Or do we? Is freedom of mind present or is going against the norm simply an attempt to get attention.

Why am I thinking about this?

I am unconscious, I am immobile, and I am waiting. My leg may be broken and my body bruised, but eventually – after time to rest – I will bounce back up. I am all humanity; I rebound from my failures, even with a bullet in my head. I am strong. I am weak.

Through a broken jaw a person can slur, even if it is a murmured slur. They may not be heard, but it is hard to miss them when they are positioned so unusually. And yes, Jamo was positioned most oddly. And yes, it was Jamo. Suprisingly.

A sickening crack sounded as the woman attempted to pull Jamo to his feet - the sound of the broken bone in his leg shifting even further out of place, almost piercing through his flesh. A sharp yelp escaped the mans lips and his eyes flickering open as he toppled back down onto the ground, curling into a ball against the curb.

"Arrrh!"

Jamo hissed. Then lapsed partly out of consiousness. Then fell out cold once more.

"What th-"

He bite his tongue. Ow. It hurt. A lot.

"FRELL!"

A brief squirm and struggle, then a glance up at the one carrying him. No need to struggle, she looked nice. <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Nice<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> even. A slight grin covered his lips through the pain.

"Hey," he nodded slowly, a snakish smile spreading across his face, "How you doin'?"

Matter of fact, his jaw hurted. So instead of speaking this time, he thought to himself.

<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> "Where are we going?"<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->

The woman was a force user then, he guessed. Which side of the coin did she sit on though? If she was a jedi it would be logical for her to 'rescue' him - from what? he didn't know yet - or maybe a Sith looking for someone to tortue. Hopefully the first of the two.

<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> "Votras? Say what? Where the frell is that?"<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->

He grimaced. Something was very painful inside.

<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> "Vjun? Hell no. I've got no medical equipment there."<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->