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Markis sat on the crude, dirty toilet, trying not to inhale the fetid odor that permeated within the squalid room. Mold and mildew hung and actually dripped from the walls and ceiling. The exact condition of the ancient restroom could not be made out by the dim light of Markis's glow rod, and for that he was thankful.
The needle in the old man's arm shook violently, casting eerie shadows on the dilapidated walls of his stall. There was no door on the stall, but privacy was not what concerned him right now. He was not there to use the facilities. He was hiding.
A distant thump and splash quickly drew Markis's attention away from his needle for the time being. He stood slowly, peering over the falling stall partition toward the open area of the small room. There were two inoperable, yet constantly dripping, sinks and, on the wall next to them, barely recognizable towel dispensers. However, what collected Markis's attention like a sponge in the damp facility was the doorless entry into the room. Noises echoed down the hallway outside, and he knew he was running out of time. He turned back to his work.
The needle slid painfully into Markis's arm, and he grimaced at the sting. Slowly, still not confident in this course of action, the old man pushed the plunger down, emptying the grayish contents of the needle into his arm. It burned at first, like he was injecting steaming mud, but as the serum worked its way through his bloodstream, diluting itself naturally, the burning faded away and was replaced with a feeling of warmth.
Markis discarded the needle and small vial that had originally held the gray serum and untied the string from his arm that he had used to raise a vein. He got up slowly from his filthy seat, took a few wet steps on the old tiled floor, and peered around the edge of the open stall. He could still hear noises echoing down the hallway, and they were now joined with light. A bluish haze was coming down the hallway toward the restroom, and Markis knew he had to leave.
The entry to the moldy room was to the old man's right. To his left was the back wall of the restroom, covered with broken windows and looking into the back of another building. Markis moved as quietly as he could through the puddles on the floor, careful not to slip.
There was a thirty-centimeter gap between the outside wall of the room and the blank wall of the building next to it. It was a tight fight for the slightly over-weight man, and he sustained a few cuts from the broken glass, but he was soon standing outside the restroom on the window ledge, with his back braced against the wall behind him.
From his new cramped position, Markis could see that the blue light was almost to the door of the restroom. He looked down and saw the ground of the narrow alley was two stories down. A protruding brick caught his eye just below the level of the windowsill, and he slowly moved one of his feet to it, wanting to climb down.
As soon as his weight was transferred from the windowsill to the small brick, the new perch snapped off, and the old man fell. He muffled his cry as his hands, feet, back, and stomach all pressed against the two walls, taking nasty jolts as he passed by both floor levels on his way to the ground.
He landed in a smelly pile garbage, breaking a few bottles when he hit. He felt a sharp pain shoot through his right ankle and knew he had sprained it. He looked up at the window, too scared to move for the moment. He waited for only ten seconds, but it seemed much longer. Nothing appeared at the broken window, and Markis could no longer see the blue light.
The old man had fallen to his side and managed to get up in the cramped area only with great difficulty. The alley's exit was only a few meters away, and soon he was limping across a large street in a high ceilinged area of Coruscant's underworld. This area had housed the ancient government buildings of the planet city before it had become the capitol of the galaxy, and the locals had kept the section in descent repair, comparatively speaking.
The street Markus was on deadended into the alley he had just crawled out of and joined another bigger street in a "T" intersection half a block away where streetlights illuminated the way. This street was more an alley than anything, but having just left the tight gap between the two buildings behind him, this avenue felt very spacious.
Markis moved quickly along in a very clumsy, stumbling gate, but had not gotten halfway to the lighted street before a noise from behind stopped him. Markis spun around, his body beginning to shake from the pain and fright he was feeling. The old man was wet and tired and being chased through the lower levels of Coruscant by a dark figure was not helping his failing composure. He peered into the darkness from which he had just emerged but could see nothing and was glad. It was probably just a loose piece of glass from the window he had crawled through falling.
As he turned back around, he heard a rustle like the flapping of a cloak in the wind. When he was facing forward again, he saw the cloak - draped over the shoulders of his pursuer. The lights from the street behind the dark figure backlit him and cast impenetrable shadows over his entire body, turning him into a completely dark silhouette.
Markis's involuntary shaking increased as he found it was hard to keep his balance.
"Give me the serum," the dark man said in a harsh whisper.
Markis tried to run away, but his fear kept his eyes forward, and he merely stumbled backwards, his bad ankle giving way and spilling him to the wet street. He tried to scramble on his elbows and heels, but his body felt suddenly weak.
"Give it to me," the black figure demanded again, taking several long steps toward the fallen man.
"It's too late!" Markis cried. "It's gone. I injected it into myself. You can't have it now! There's nothing you can do!"
"That's unfortunate," the figure said, moving to stand a meter from the fallen man. He slowly reached inside his cloak. "Unfortunate for you."
"No! You can't kill me! You know who I am. There will be an investigation. You ca-"
"I'm afraid you leave me with no choice. I can't let you go through with this."
Markis began to hold up one of his arms toward his enemy, as if he could ward off the coming death. Instead, the old man moved his shaking arm at the last second to cover his eyes. The last thing he remembered was seeing the dark figure stepping swiftly over him and a bright blue flash filling the gap between them. Everything else was darkness. Forever darkness.
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