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Rift Station: Open Worlds

Patience is a virtue. I read that on the inside of a bathroom stall in a galaxy far away. Wise words. Applicable, too, for the setting. I stay in my seat as the madness around me grows. I've read more than a few holotape headlines in my travels, and one thing's for certain: unruly death row inmates don't survive long. To be fair, they don't survive long even with ruly behavior, but I'd rather not expedite the process.

The sound of laser fire intensifies and a group of inmates rush past my seat as if marathon runners at the start of the race, minus the short shorts. I calmly cross one leg over the other and enjoy the view. Probably best I didn't join their group. My left hamstring has felt tight lately, and running without a warm-up wouldn't help.

The view in front of my seat is suddenly replaced with a series of red beams. It kind of reminds me of the rave Annie dragged me into. Cara X's governor's daughter enjoyed that sort of thing. I didn't mind it; I certainly preferred her handcuffs opposed to the Rift's security guard's.

Speaking of which, the room fills with a squad of helmeted security. Their blank black armor reflects the laser red in unison. They finish exterminating my fellow inmates, and one addresses me.

"You there! Don't move!"
"Do I look like I'm going to...?" I raise my hands half defensively, half questioningly.
"He's resisting! Subdue the criminal!"
"Wait, no--" I begin to say before the world turns black.

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