Galactic City

=Jordan Halcyon=
Leaving his meeting with Senator Koronov, and exiting the Senate compound, the Jedi Knight was able to leave the physical embodiments of corruption behind, but the doubts and the questions and the unfinished investigations remained. In his honest opinion, there were not enough Jedi here on Coruscant, seeking to maintain the peace and stability of the Republic. But what could he, a lone Jedi Knight with very little influence in the Order, do to change the situation? The only answers he had found were to keep doing his job, keep his eyes and ears open, and send as many reports as possible to the Masters, if he learned anything.

Shaking his head slowly, he turned his back on the City and entered a middle class cantina. It was not a partyhouse for the rich, but not a hive of scum and villainy, either. This place was home to the working class people who provided services to the political class. It was places like this that he could take the true temperature of the Republic.

'Sunny' fell into line, behind dozens of ships of varying sizes and displacements, in one of the hundreds of shipping lanes that led to the surface of Coruscant. Coordinates locked in, she was more than happy to engage to autopilot to prepare for her debarkation. Venturing aft to her quarters, she continued packing her things. Her duffel contained the various articles Charlie would need for her time on Coruscant, including several garments and accessories, her datapad and several file discs and a sealed bag with some other more interesting artifacts that could come in handy. Adding a small bag of necessities and cred-discs, the Hapan zips the duffel, before wiping down the surfaces of her cabin. Heading back to the cockpit, she does the same there, and for the next several minutes, does likewise throughout the living and work spaces of the ship. Though the descent to the surface of Coruscant is a sight to behold, there was work to do, and so she took care of the task at-hand, until the soft beeping of the approach beacon lured her back to the cockpit.

Gloved hands gripped the control yoke, and the pilot disengaged the autopilot, banking toward the private landing pad at Hotel Yor'beth, a small family-run inn whose claim to fame amongst newlyweds (their prime market) was an unobstructed view of 500 Republica.

Powering down the YT-1100, Charlie speaks to Braak-Tii, the Gran proprietor, and pays in advance for a room for three nights. He hands over the key-card to room 207, and the mag-pass for the landing pad, should she wish to visit other cultural and scenic sites on Coruscant during her stay. Several brochures on the Senatorial district are handed out, along with a complimentary meal at a local four-star establishment, which Charlie makes a mental note to use later that afternoon.

Bidding the owner a fine day, she heads up to her room.

The landing was uneventful. Tsooba yawned as he exited, waving the pilot off rather than following him to the bar as usual. The hour of napping he'd gotten done had shaken some of the headache of last night's...overindulgence, and now all there was to do was to find his partner, and come up with some sort of discussion...topic points? A plan?
He made a wet, flatulent sound of disapproval. If the little whippet had wanted to come up with a plan, she'd have to do it on her own and just tell him what to do. He'd never had the patience for such things.

The spaceport was busy, but he could still find a seat in an adjoining shop while he waited for anyone that looked familiar. Two hours and half a meal later, however, when nothing familiar showed up, he could feel a prickle of irritation down his back, making him fidgety. Where was she? She'd left hours before he did, surely she hadn't taken a detour and gotten herself lost.

Hoping to take his mind off of his worries--the whippet was just slow, that was all--he pulled out a small Holonet projector and keyed in a familiar frequency. An old video, saved cycles ago, of an old Rodian folk tale given a 'modern' twist. Yeah, it would put off any little old ladies who happened to be watching, but it was comforting and familiar, and who didn't like a little creative nudity sometimes?

Of course, he'd like it a lot better if he actually got to see it. Thirty seconds into playback, his projector fizzled out, the figures masked and buzzing with static.

<<Of all the...>>

Tsooba swore, snapping the projector off and looking around for the source of the interruption. All he could see was a few Hapans, a pair of canoodling Twi'leks, some more Hapans, an oversized Trando who looked like he'd been recently punched in the gut, and yet more Hapans...yeah, that was a lot of Hapans. A lot of Hapans with guns and bombs spread throughout the hangar, and filing into a hotel a few yards away, and gods above that's a lot of weapons for a mid-class commercial hangar. 

<<And that,>> he said to no one in particular, <<is my cue to leave, whippet or no.>>

He picked up the remainder of his sandwich, stuffed it in his pocket along with his projector, and shuffled into the suddenly-thinning crowd. For once, he wanted to go in the same direction they were going. Away from the Hapans. He'd take the long way around, and figure out the rest as he went. 

As they made their way out of the ruined and defaced Jedi Temple, the Twins said nothing – they did not even glance at one another or the Sorcerer. With the ornamental masks still covering their faces, it was difficult to discern their states of mind. Clearly, though, something had happened between them and neither was content to be in the presence of the other. Iztara naturally took the lead from her brother and it was not long before they found themselves perched upon the edge of one of the Coruscant Underworld Portals. Standing in the shadows before this great maw, the Twins balance themselves above the precipice, the wind whipping the dark cloth of their robes around bodies weaponized for the warfare to come.

I look out across the vast expanse that stretched before us and the first thing that stood out was the smell. Upon first impression, it was vile and rancid, like rotting meat. And then it hit me in a slow and penetrating way, pervasively entering my nostrils – my mind beginning to conjure fiery images of corpses rotting in the dark pit below. Underpinning this, though, was the tangy odor of the fumes emitting from the multitude of speeders and shuttles whizzing by overhead and below us as we looked down upon the world. As the breeze shifted directions, it brought the scent of something spicy to my attention – bringing it sharply into focus when the wind blew just right before ebbing away into nothingness once more, only to be replaced by something equally repulsive. I was not quite sure how my sister could stand there even closer than I, and not gag. It was wretched, but this was precisely what we had been looking for – a portal to the underworld, hopefully our ticket off this planet.

Shuttles and several starfighters I was unsure of the make, passed beneath us, coming and going from the undercity. Who knew what they were up to, but most that lurked down there in the darkness had ever-nefarious intentions. Crouched at the edge of the catwalk, I hazard a glance back in the direction of my brother before returning my gaze back to the pit of darkness below – artificial lights, blinking blearily in the distance, mark the sharp and jagged outline of the ventilation shaft. “Shall we grab a speeder and make our way down?” Came the query from behind me as Rhaezion spoke up. Rubbing my chin thoughtfully, I continued to watch the traffic flow by us, eyes hooded with something like consideration, hidden by the metallic veneer that adorned my head. “Or would you just prefer to jump?” He jested, and I could hear the playfulness reflecting in his tone of voice. He jested, but I was earnestly considering the thought and doubted he would even suspect I would take him seriously. The joke was on him this time.

With a chuckle, Iztara tossed a glance back at her brother. “That is a terrible, horrible, and incredibly foolish idea.” The Warrior quipped, flashing a wicked grin that foretold what was inevitably coming next. “Let’s do it and see what happens.” Iztara suggests in a playful tone that makes it unclear whether she is serious or merely joking. Rhaezion brings a hand up to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he bows his head. “There are at least forty-two ways this could go horribly wrong.” The Dark Prince mutters beneath his breath. “Oh, really? I only count twenty-two.” Iztara counters, her tone beginning to get smart with him. “Yes, you little druk. I am literally counting them off in my head right now.” A scowl crosses her face at this. Rhaezion sighs and steps closer to his sister. “Look Iztara..”

I recoil from him as he reaches out for me, the beat of my heart pounding in my ears. I guess I half-expected him to just grab me again and forcefully make me listen like he had done back in the temple. But this reaction provoked none of that. He just sighed again and looked me straight in the eye as he reached up and pulled his mask off. It was a little bit surreal at first as I stared at him. He and I, we had done this a thousand times over, but it never seemed to get old – staring into the face of my carbon copy, like I was looking directly into a mirror. “We are all right, you know.” He says quietly. “It will always be you and me, okay?” My chest aches with an unfamiliar discomfort and I nod. “Nothing else is all right around here.” His whisper almost sounds pained as he forces out the rest of what he had to say to me. “But we are…and we always will be.” At this point, I am unsure how to respond to my brother’s declaration. I know how I would like to respond, but as my almost albicant eyes drift past the severe outline of his body; I can see the Sorcerer catching up to us. The simplest response at this point is just to nod again before standing to my feet once more. Straightening my posture, my gaze drifts back across my brother as he replaces his mask and I turn back to observing the portal.

The movement of traffic was ebbing and flowing, but on a world like Coruscant, it was unlikely to ever dissipate. A Coruscant police speeder circled twice before coming to land next to another open-air speeder. Several hundred meters off to the side, another police speeder sat parked on the lip of the ventilation portal, blue and red lights blazing in the quickly darkening sky, though the wind and other white noise drowned out any clamor their sirens might have otherwise made. Several other police speeders seemed to be circling this particular underworld portal. The Galactic City Police were out in force today, it seemed and for a moment, Iztara wonders if there was some hidden alarm they had tripped at the temple. No, surely she would have had some indication of any such event when she had been digging through the temple mainframe and other computer architecture. Perhaps they were merely out performing their normal duties, patrolling and maintaining the skylanes. Perhaps, this was merely a coincidence.

Standing tall on the edge of the catwalk overlooking the ventilation portal, my eyes traverse Coruscant’s skyline. The last vestiges of Coruscant Prime are slowly disappearing over the horizon. The harsh contours of the skyline stood silhouetted in the distance as the golden dusk was quickly enveloped by the twilight sky – stealing away the colours of the day until the world is rendered in shades of black and white. The remaining phosphorescence emitting from the gradually dimming sky dances across the transparisteel windows from the buildings that line the portal. For a moment, I feel something akin to disgust for this world and its inhabitants. They live here in such ignorance beneath the shield of the Republic, though that too would soon meet its end. I hear my brother suddenly clear his throat as the Sorcerer’s footsteps become audible. It is then that I decide I am ready to leave this planet and return to the prison I now call home and it strikes me as strange, that I would now view what had been my prison, for the past decade, as my refuge of safety.

I look hesitantly down over the edge of the catwalk. And then I jumped. I was liberated. There was nothing more to do than trust the Force within me and the wind without as they guided me down into the depths of Coruscant’s Undercity. The cold air rushed past as I accelerated faster and faster. The wind roared in my ears to the point where it evolved into silence and after a short time, I began to feel as if I were not really falling at all. What had once been a blur, the environment rushing past me, was soon brought into focus as if time itself deigned to stand still. There it was, the opening of the portal below me – the lanes of traffic presenting themselves as the only obstacles between here and the way home. This was exhilarating in the way that dangerous things always are, my laughter echoing in the space around me – heard by no one but me. I angled my body such that I was able to dodge any vehicles standing in my way and within a split second, I had crossed the threshold of the portal, disappearing into the darkness below.

Rhaezion watched his sister jump over the edge, sighed and brought a hand up to cover his face as he shook his head. “And she wonders why father does not let us go out more.” He remarks to the Sorcerer, a hint of sarcasm tainting his words. “This.” The Dark Prince declared as he gestured with his hand toward the point where Iztara had disappeared over the edge of the catwalk. “…is precisely why.”

The apartment was pleasant, if a little to cluttered for the Hunter's tastes. Knick-knacks, keepsakes, antiquities, they never held his interest, but this one seems to have had an unusual affinity for them. The Hunter padded about the apartment, spacious, airy, modern -- barefoot, taking in the sentient's life, his experiences, putting together a mental picture of this being's life and past pursuits.

Now... where did you find that little piece? he hissed, looking more closely at a crystal formation he had never seen before. ...it really is beautiful. You have such an eye.

Walking into the bed chamber, the Hunter opened the closet, where row after row of sharp, pressed suits and formal attire hung neatly. Such style, Senator Basai. I really am impressed. And for such a young man. You should be proud. A life well-lived.

He continued walking through the palatial series of rooms. The office -- such marvelous wood! I've never seen such burl. The wine cellar -- A '42, Senator? My my... what were you saving this for? He made his way back to the entryway / foyer, where the Junior Senator's body lay, the left foot still twitching with cadaverous spasms. Fascinating. you've been dead ten minutes young man... incredible that your foot is still tap-dancing.

Retrieving the man's neatly-severed head from under his arm, where it had been tucked for safe-keeping, and placing it on the counter-top, The Hunter swiftly stooped over the slack-jawed head, and stood upright a moment later, replacing the hidden blade. As I said... you really do have such an eye. Holding the organ aloft, he smiled mirthlessly at it, before slipping the tissue into a pocket, and moving off, deeper into the apartment...

The Mirax finally made its descent, passing through the planet’s atmosphere and smoothing out into steady flight path just above the travel zones of speeders and air bikes. Free of the clouds, Vasari could now see Coruscant in all its splendor. In the brilliant light of the sun, the radiant Galactic City shone like jewel in the darkness.

It was when she was asked about the friends that remained that she seemed to stop. Did she really have any friends left here? The simple answer was yes. However, none had the slightest idea of what became of her. They all simply thought she left to see what else existed in the galaxy or didn’t even know she left. It had been three years since she saw any of them. Yet, she had left them behind in her pursuit of the Sith and they power they wielded. Her life beforehand was but an illusion, a facade she kept to keep any Jedi of finding her.

Gathering herself, she a shrug. "I guess I do, though I haven’t seen or spoken to any of them since I left over three years ago. No telling if any of them remember me or are even still around. Still, we may run into a couple while we’re here, so we’ll see." There was no sadness or uncertainty in her voice, despite going silent for a moment. It had merely been something she hadn’t thought until just now.

She smiled again at Vasari’s thanks. "I’ll make sure this is a vacation to remember. We all deserve a chance to unwind, relax, and have a little fun. After all, what’s the point in living otherwise."

Perspective was the key to the experiences and feelings Luxeria held within. Whereas Vasari felt that her own life and memories where mostly boring with those select memories she felt embarassed or insecure to share, Luxeria felt it similar in her own mind. There was nothing truly magnificent that had transpired in her life that her friend wouldn't have experienced herself. Manipulation of others, living a carefree, luxurious lifestyle, constant days of training and battles. There was little to nothing that made her think there was anything that stood out as exciting or worthy of some form of glory.

Luxeria let her eyes shift over to the Zabrak, sensing the feelings eminating from her, especially after seeing the image of the blonde woman. It easily brought forth a sense of curiousity, wanting to know more. But she didn't push into Vasari's mind to find out, being respectful of her privacy. Still, she did wish to address something, hoping it would make the woman feel a bit more at ease when sharing those uncertain memories. "You don't have to worry, Vasari. What I see, what you show me will stay between us as long as you wish for it. You don't need to afraid to show me anything. In your own time, when you feel comfortable sharing, I'll be there to watch and listen. I won't judge you, nor will I exploit what I see." She then thought what she saw back on Mustafar. Not a memory, but the way her mind was shaped, its defenses. It was something she hadn't seen before nor even thought of it herself. "I am curious about sonething, though. The way you defended your mind back on Mustafar. I've never seen or heard of what I saw. What was that?"

Luxeria listened intently upon the words spoken by Vasari, hanging on each word as if being taught something new by a master. To her, the state of mind the Zabrak had come to obtain was a rather curious one, one that she was eager to understand further. She had only ever come to grasp the need to defend and block the mind. That line of thought typically had apprentices and the like creating walls and barriers that were only meant to be reinforced with time and training. Yet, Vasari had seen through the veil these teachings created, observed the shortcomings of these simple techniques, and created something new in her mind. And when Luxeria thought it, the idea made more and more sense with every passing second. Creating a barrier, wall, door, or anything seen as a defensive measure worked to keep people out. However, all that was required to break through was someone stronger with the mind to seek out the weak points. Each attack to weaken the barriers would strain the mind until it finally gave way.

Yet, Vasari's approach was far different. perhaps there was a barrier to start off that she didn't know about, but it seemed that an enemy was capable of entering the mind much easier, yet had to traverse different types of obstacles that required another manner of strength. A labyrinth was difficult to navigate as there were few skills that granted one the ability to make it through with little effort. Between making it through the ocean, which could no doubt become a storm to invaders, and the maze, it gave her friend far more time to prepare defenses, find and remove the enemy, or even follow the established link back and invade her oppressor. She might have claimed herself a student of the art, but just the thought, to Luxeria, made Vasari far greater in mental defenses.

For the moment, she let the events of Mustafar pass by in opt for addressing Xakire and her ability to explain. She couldn't help but laughed a bit at the idea of Xakire trying to learn how to defend the mind and manipulate others. She knew little of him and hadn't really interacted with the man on Mustafar, but there were certain things that could be figured out. "I can see the difficulty you'd have trying to explain it to Xakire. He strikes me more as a man who would follow the path of power and domination over the physical. Perhaps holding strength in intellect and strategy, as well. But the manipulation arts are not something I see him easily capable of. I could be wrong, but he seems too direct for the techniques. No wonder why it was difficult explaining it."

She then gave a smile that was half genuine and half a cocky smirk. "I, however, prefer them over all else. So don't worry. Your words haven't fallen upon death ears and is easily understood." The smirk then faded as she returned her gaze to the flight path in front of her. "I'm sure you've caught onto my preference of power, though we've done little for me to show it. I came to the Sith with the original purpose of becoming a master of control. You've seen the bits of my memories, the path that brought me here. I noticed in my early teens that men and women alike from many different races would vie for my attention. My beauty captivated them and they typically bowed to me as they tried to win me over. Seduction and its ability to manipulate were my first weapons, the first steps into the darkness. It wasn't until that day that I discovered I could wield the Force. From that moment, I desired the ability to control. To persuade, to dominate, to break the minds of others in whatever fashion serves best. To create illusions and dreams, altering the senses and perception of others. That is what I seek above all." She then gave a slight tilt of her head. "However, I know these abilities will not always work. In such times is why I work to learn the ways of combat, the ways to hurt, torture, and kill those that stand against me."

From there, Luxeria thought back on Mustafar, he smile fading as her tone became much more serious. She believed she could open up to Vasari in her moments of failure and not only be free for judgement, but gain perspective and knowledge to improve her shortcomings. Taking a breath, she went on. "You were far better off than you realize, Vasari. Mustafar was not an ordinary mission. The darkness we were brought to face with was much more potent than you'd find elsewhere. You might have been down when it tried to take over your mind, but, if we're being honest, I feel you effectively repelled the darkness and its control. You were able to keep it at bay long enough to not only locate it in your mind, but also confront it in mine." She shook her head before looking at her friend, a hint of disapproval in her eyes. Yet, if she looked hard enough, Vasari would be able to tell they weren't directed at her. "Considering the situation and what you had to to, I'd say you more than proved how strong you are and effective your methods can be. You can only ascend from her. Not like me.."

Her attention shifted back in front of her as she took a deep and slightly shaky breath. "I fell into illusions not once, but twice. It slipped in so easily, riding along the waves of the darkness I drew upon. I was cocky, believing the darkness there was nothing considering I had felt and endured such potency on Kuat in my first few days of training. I didn't think about another weaving their control over me in such a way as that. I didn't even notice until the illusion finally activated. I might have found a way out the first time, but I hadn't cast the darkness away and that creature learned from its previous failure to trap me completely the next time. If you didn't dive into my mind to help free me, I would have been lost. It showed me I have to be more vigilante, be more aware of the power I drawing on, and be more observant of what is happening inside my mind. Compared to yours, my defenses are weak." She then looked back to Vasari, first starting with a slight glance to measure her friend's reactions before finally letting green eyes meet yellow. "I would like it if you could help me develop my defenses and possibly learn from your approach."