Rift Station: Open Worlds
"Say no more. You had me 'asses.' Well, the second time at least. Just took one go around to get the 'asses' in working condition," I say.
"Yeah... You might get along here," Shorno says, motioning for me to follow.
Shorno scoops up the stool as we leave, no doubt needing it for another prisoner visit, or to reach the high shelf in his cell. We travel down a rusted metal walkway. It's filled with gaps, whether from wear and tear or design initiated, I know not. I only just arrived here, you know. Despite the gaps' origin, it would be a bitch to drop your speeder keys down there, unless you possess dainty hands with fingers to match. Ol' Shorny boy might fit the bill there. That's probably why he gets along in here.
I follow him to a large room, still within a cage, not unlike a gymnasium. Steel bars may line the floor, ceiling, and walls, but the square footage in this bitch must be pushin' hard. Different groups of people group themselves, differently. On one side, you have the hombres, likely from Earth's Mexico. They're a rare species nowadays, since being alienated and walled from the Galactic Federation. On the other, if I squint hard enough, I can see some China/Japanese lookin' fellas.
No doubt dangerous men are on both sides, and their positioning in the celled gymnasium means their mortal enemies. Don't ask, I just know things. I've been around the galaxy. How far around have you been? No matter. My dick's bigger. The fact is, I'm going to need friends on the inside. Shorn-stuff here might make a good prison wife, but prison wives don't protect their husbands (just like on the outside). I take another glance at the gangs. Time to choose.
"Yeah... You might get along here," Shorno says, motioning for me to follow.
Shorno scoops up the stool as we leave, no doubt needing it for another prisoner visit, or to reach the high shelf in his cell. We travel down a rusted metal walkway. It's filled with gaps, whether from wear and tear or design initiated, I know not. I only just arrived here, you know. Despite the gaps' origin, it would be a bitch to drop your speeder keys down there, unless you possess dainty hands with fingers to match. Ol' Shorny boy might fit the bill there. That's probably why he gets along in here.
I follow him to a large room, still within a cage, not unlike a gymnasium. Steel bars may line the floor, ceiling, and walls, but the square footage in this bitch must be pushin' hard. Different groups of people group themselves, differently. On one side, you have the hombres, likely from Earth's Mexico. They're a rare species nowadays, since being alienated and walled from the Galactic Federation. On the other, if I squint hard enough, I can see some China/Japanese lookin' fellas.
No doubt dangerous men are on both sides, and their positioning in the celled gymnasium means their mortal enemies. Don't ask, I just know things. I've been around the galaxy. How far around have you been? No matter. My dick's bigger. The fact is, I'm going to need friends on the inside. Shorn-stuff here might make a good prison wife, but prison wives don't protect their husbands (just like on the outside). I take another glance at the gangs. Time to choose.