Murder on Level 1313: Cream of the Core
Posted on Wed Sep 25th, 2019 @ 10:33pm by Loren† & Thurius
Edited on on Wed Jun 8th, 2022 @ 2:02pm
4,064 words; about a 20 minute read
Chapter:
Additional Stories
Location: Cream of the Core Bar, Lower levels of Coruscant
Timeline: New Year Fete Week, 1,199 ABY
This post takes place in 1,199 ABY, only four years after the Second Outer Rim Conflict, and follows Jedi Master Thurius and his former padawan Mykles as they journey into the Coruscant undercity.
With a distinct groan, the lift doors opened onto a dingy and dreary square, punctuating a long durasteel street on this lower level of Coruscant. A holographic projection of a tree was jittering and glitching in a little basin in the centre of the square, surrounded by several benches, one of which housed a dishevelled Rodian that seemed to be using the seat as his bed for the night.
Out from the lift stepped two robed figures. One was distinctly taller than the other and seemed to take charge as he strode forwards to inspect the area. When he had made his assessment, he dropped his hood to reveal the elongated head of a Cerean male, "Come Mykles," he gestured back to his companion, "The bar Loren mentioned is just along this way."
The Rodian shifted a the sudden voice but did not awaken, obviously used to passers by. The other figure came forward and began to remove his cloak also, "Yes, Master."
The younger padawan was a Cathar, with golden fur and a rusty orange mane, trimmed into the shape of hair and thick sideburns. His eyes were a striking green colour that contrasted against his fiery fur. Under his robe, he wore brown leather attire that showed off his muscular arms.
At the sight of the displaced Rodian, he made sure to cover some of his finer leather garments again, before asking, "But, might I ask: how far down are we? Could we not have taken a speeder?"
"We are only a few levels above our ultimate destination: level 1313," came the answer.
The name of the infamously crime-ridden Coruscanti lower level was practically myth to the high society above but the name was creeping back into the public eye owing to the violent outbreak of gang warfare originating from the infamous level.
The Cerean continued, "The gangs operate here too but we are not as likely to encounter resistance here. Still, I thought it best not to bring a speeder down; I do not trust that it would not be scrapped or stolen and, besides, we blend in better on foot."
The pair proceeded onwards down the street, starting to encounter more people wandering about, mostly aimlessly, as they came upon their destination: The Cream of the Core. It was a dive bar that continued to operate in spite of the recent violence. It was well known that nobody messed with the bar's owner Guural: a slender-than-average Gamorrean, but with a fiery personality to match even the burliest of his species.
"Nice place," Mykles said sarcastically, wrinkling his broad feline nose as he watched a Weequay vomiting into the gutter, "I know Loren was a Coruscanti girl, but I didn't picture this being her kind of place."
Thurius cleared his throat in a manner that indicated his pupil should take care with his words, "Loren is well on her way to being an excellent Shadow," he reminded his Cathar pupil, "Blending in is part and parcel of her role. Perhaps she already has you fooled about the kind of establishments she would frequent."
"Perhaps," Mykles suppressed a mild chuckle, Loren's rough and tough personality had certainly not been lost on the young man, "Still, you'll soon see how ready I am for my own trials, Master."
Thurius brought broad hand onto Mykles back and guided him forwards through the doorway and into the dimly-lit bar, "Then we had better not delay. I have yet to see any skills besides an impressive amount of negativity since we set off today."
OOC: Cantina Ambience: Woozy at the Cream of the Core
The interior of the bar was similar to the outside; rough metal panels lined the walls, many of which had been patched up crudely and the ceiling was dotted with florescent strip lights and the occasional fan to waft the cigarra fumes and various other unmentionable odours about the bar. Along the right hand side, a short distance from the entrance was the bar, behind which stood the infamous Guural tending the bar alongside a female Zeltron with that unmistakable rosy pink skin.
On the other side of the bar, clutching a small tumbler filled with a colourful liquid, was the umber-haired Coruscanti Human they knew as the recently-knighted Loren.
Having secreted herself away within one of the alcoves on the far side, Loren had one heavy worn leather boot unceremoniously planted on the scuffed metal table in front of her. As was oft required by her developing vocation within the Reborn Order, she was not dressed in typical Jedi garb. Instead, her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and she was wearing a ragged burgundy spacer's jacket. Beneath that was an off-white shirt and tight combat trousers. Whilst barely visible, blasters could be sighted holstered on both sides, although her lightsaber was nowhere in sight.
Beside her, built into the grimy curved wall of the alcove, was a pixelated display of an advert for a nearby gambling venue, which was regularly flickering between an image of an old podracer and betting rates. The small flashes of light it generated highlighted the young Jedi Sentinel's usually narrow and attractive features. On this occasion, she looked decidedly older and gruffer than the norm; there were creases lining her eyes and mouth, and there was days-old dirt settled within the creases of her forehead.
Alongside the dour expression she wore, Loren truly looked like she belonged in the Cream of the Core - and that she was not someone to disturb.
All of that, however, almost instantly evaporated as she spotted her Jedi compatriots, whom she gestured to sit opposite her, a wide smile threatening to undo her carefully-crafted Undercity persona.
"Furious Thurius," she welcomed the Cerean, the cocksure manner of her youth still faintly present within her, "and Mighty Mykles. Civilisation has reached the Underworld, at last!"
Loren took a swig of her drink, one eye clenching involuntarily as she gulped down a couple of fingers' worth. She then placed the glass down with a heavy thud and a distinctly unfeminine and chesty sigh of satisfaction. "Can I get either o’ you boys a drink?"
Mykles strode forwards, beaming with his feline teeth, “Thank you, Loren! I’ll take a bribb juice”
Patting his padawan’s shoulder as he passed by, Thurius took a seat at the table, sliding himself in so that he was at the centre, looking out across the bar, “Much appreciated Loren, but I think we shall cover this round. After all, you didn’t have to come all the way down here to assist us with our assignment.”
Thurius flicked a credit chit over to the still-standing Cathar, “Mykles, would you do us the honour of getting the drinks. A Liwi Spritzer for myself and for Loren, another…”
"Coruscanti Sunrise," Loren finished, an amused and self-satisfied smile spreading across her face as she gave the Cerean's padawan a knowing look. There were not many Jedi within Quellus' Reborn Jedi Order that were given to much indulgence of narcotics of any description, but both Thurius and his close friend and frequent partner, Jedi Master Sotah, were known to be somewhat more liberal in their attitudes. It was something that was bound to be passed down to their own apprentices, not that there was much change of kerbing Loren's nature in that regard.
“Certainly Master,” Mykles said, lingering for a moment not really wanting to miss the start of the conversation before giving up and heading to speak to the Zeltron bartender.
Thurius now angled his long head towards Master Sotah’s former student and a young Jedi he had trusted many times at his side during the recent Outer Rim conflict, just a few years prior. She had proven to be an extremely adaptable individual. Had she not been recognised as a Jedi recruit, she could have thrived in any number of professions around the Galaxy, and that is exactly what made her invaluable as a part of the Shadow programme.
“I trust you did not attract too much trouble in your investigations for us,” Thurius noted her relaxed posture, but still felt it is duty to ask, “I know that Coruscant is home for you, but that does not make you immune to its many dangers, particularly down at this depth. Sotah would never forgive me if I had caused you injury. We couldn’t seem to have a simple sparring session during your training without him inspecting you for scratches afterwards.”
"Coruscant is home to us all now, Master Thurius," Loren replied pointedly, brushing past the topic slightly and reclaiming her glass, before literally pointing one of the fingers gripping the tumbler at the older Jedi, and taking another swig to finish the beverage. "Some Jedi seem to forget that," she continued after another sidelong wince from the aromatic and colourful cocktail. "I'm just one o' the few who rememb- ah, the conquerin' hero returns!"
She smiled brightly at Mykles, returning with three drinks perfectly balanced only a short while since departing, although his expression seemed slightly more sour than before. The Jedi Sentinel claimed her drink and slurped again quickly, offering a curt nod of thanks as she continued, "Did Kandi and her pheromones set your whiskers on edge?"
Mykles’ eyes widened and his bribb juice sloshed dangerously close to escaping his cup as he sat himself down in the booth, “No! Certainly not; I think we Cathar are immune to such scents anyway. I was just… wondering how she can stand that Gamorrean squealing at her all day.”
Thurius cast Loren a knowing glance before chuckling at his apprentice, “Focus up, my young apprentice. We are not down here to save every damsel in distress we come across. I think the damsels are more than competent enough to handle their own disputes these days anyway.”
He raised his tall glass in a modest toast before taking a sip, “Extremely passable,” he acknowledged with a slight exhale of appreciation, “Well then, Mykles. I promised you could take charge on this one. Why don’t you ask Loren about our mission while I enjoy my drink?”
“Uh, of course master,” he sheepishly replied before straightening himself up, “So, the two gangs on level 1313: are there any leads on the crime bosses’ movements? We understand that the Wild Pack leaders are more sloppy so they might be the better target.”
Thurius’ eyes shifted from Mykles towards Loren as he took another sip, seemingly interested in how Loren would handle the exchange.
“Is that right? Guessin’ there’s not much call for me, then,” Loren joked, having turned that knowing expression towards the Cathar padawan. Her toying eyes watched him playfully as she took a more delicate sip from her Coruscanti Sunrise. Whatever the ingredients were, they made her lips turn a deeper shade of red, a remarkable colour against her carefully-crafted gruff Undercity exterior.
Before Mykles could show any sign of irritation or discomfort at rising to Loren’s cheap bait, she brushed off her jest with a lithe hand. “Yer right, though; Wild Pack is sloppier, but only in terms of organisation. Dark Star is the main competition, bein’ an older and better established so-called crime syndicate. Until recently, Dark Star’s managed to run out most of the other gangs, either through sheer brutality or because of their establishment ties. Their leader has changed, or so I heard, but has taken to calling himself ‘The Dark Star’, and that’s all I got on him (or her). They did very well during the recent war in the Outer Rim, selling freighter-loads of blasters and bringing down a heavy protection racket on the exposed families and businesses down here in Coruscant’s bowels. Only that same war that they profiteered so nicely from has gone and caused ‘em all this new grief with the Wild Pack - that sloppy gang you mentioned.”
Loren paused to eye a newcomer to the establishment, recognition and concern briefly dancing across her narrow face. A few seconds later, and a quick glare at Mykles to discourage any sudden head-turning to examine the arrival, she continued her account. “Wild Pack’s not new, though. Been around longer than any of us, anyway,” she said, suddenly bringing up a small bowl of nuts that had been perched on the chair beside her onto the metal table. She dipped her hand in and brought a palmful into her small mouth, chewing between comments. “As you said, though; they’ve been a mess for most of that time. Petty thuggery and gang violence. That hasn’t really changed, only now they’re recruiting from the new talent pool in town: the refugees of the Second Conflict. These guys, young an’ old, men an’ women, don’t care much for Jedi, mind, so it’s difficult getting much out of them. They don’t see much of a difference ‘tween Rift or Reborn – it’s all the same to them. See, one of their new leaders is a particularly grumpy beast, a Harch veteran calling himself Tank, only he ain’t a vet of the Conflict. As usual, the Harches and the Aqualish took the chance to starting slicing one another’s mandibles to shreds whilst the rest of the galaxy bled, thinking it a better use of their time and people, apparently. Tank fought in that little war and got himself exiled for his efforts, and has since found himself dwelling where all scavenging critters usually end up finding themselves.”
After taking another mouthful and almost completely emptying the bowl, Loren seemed to notice the other two Jedi, and proffered the remnants to them both. Receiving a polite decline from them, she finished munching them and concluded her explanation.
“Tank got himself in with the Wild Pack, and rapidly crawled his way up the spout to be in one of the top underbosses. As a soldier, he’s managed to win over dozens of Conflict vets – usually ex-Republic/GW servicemen and women. It hasn’t made the Wild Pack any better organised, but there sure as Hells are a lot more of them than there used to be, and they know how to spin a blaster.”
Loren washed down the last of the nuts with a swig of her drink, wiping her lips with her sleeve before continuing. “Dark Star’s getting jittery, what with Tank’s growin’ numbers and brutal tactics. If the Pack can’t take a business from Dark Star, the Pack just smashes it up. And if there’s Aqualish involved, there ain’t no negotiation or mercy. Tank hates ‘em almost as much as he hates other Harches. The way Tank is going, he’ll have the Pack winning through sheer numbers alone before next year’s Fete Week, and you can bet your furry backside it’ll be an even grimmer place with them running the 1313 show.”
Thurius straightened up and placed his glass down for a moment, “The aftershocks of this war are still being felt it would seem,” he pondered, “Threatening to drastically alter the power balance on Coruscant and somehow without the surface batting an eyelid.”
“That is until someone important gets killed,” Mykles drew in his breath, “Then they’ll start paying attention!”
“Every life is important, my dear padawan,” the Cerean Master spoke with caution, “But I understand your meaning. This Tank seeks to bulldoze his way right through the lower city and right up to the surface. We have already begun feeling its effects, with several Republic trade shipments either stolen or destroyed by the Wild Pack. Presumably, they thought they were supplying Dark Star, but their crass tactics have got the attention of the business upstairs and, inevitably, the senators who have a stake in that business.”
Thurius was well aware of his cynicism towards the politics in the senate as were many of his fellow Jedi, but their still-new Grand Master Quellus’ co-operation with the senate was seen as a largely positive step for the Reborn Order. Therefore, the Cerean usually reserved his opinions for more like-minded company, whom he counted Loren among.
“So, can we get to 'Tank' then?” queried Mykles, “You seem to know more about him than 'The Dark Star'.” The Cathar scoffed at the name.
"Like most of these hooligan gangsters, the murder and the blood credits just ain't enough to adequately wet his whistle," Loren replied evenly, pushing herself back into her alcove and raising one boot to push up against her side of the table, appearing every part the sleazy Undercity dweller she was trying to look like. "Normally, as you know, havin' broken up a few of 'em in the past, these gangs like to muscle in on the local races. Their plentiful on Corscuant; there's podracing and there's swoops, just in this district alone. Mr Tank has an obvious preference for the swoops, just like old Master Sotah." Loren gave a little smile and a wink at that to Thurius, the kindly and unseemly Jedi Consular's enjoyment of the fast-paced sport a source of amusement for them both. "He don't like running the races himself, mind - he can earn more chits by racing in the bigger leagues legit, although he's taken to sponsoring a couple o' racers. He's got himself a personal box for most of the main races. Every Taungsday, he'll be there, hurlin' abuse and betting slips about the shop. Just follow the shouting."
“Great!” Mykles’s thin composure broke as his enthusiasm got the better of him leading to a few patrons turning their heads, “It’s Taungsday today! We can set a trap, maybe. Or maybe we just…”
“Hush yourself, Mykles,” Thurius drew his heavy eyebrows down as he attempted to divert the attention with a calming aura technique he had been shown by Sotah, “I am not sure ‘WE’ will be doing anything. Unlike Loren here, your talents are not suited for subtlety as we can plainly see. I hoped you might take this opportunity to learn a thing or two about the skills a Shadow possesses. Not everywhere in the galaxy welcomes the Jedi with open arms and you cannot expect your blade to make up for your own personal inadequacies.”
“But Master,” the Cathar shrunk down under his master’s criticism, “I only…”
“It is fine Mykles,” the Cerean continued, “This is still an opportunity to learn and I never miss out on a good teaching exercise. While ‘I’ confront Tank at the racetrack, you shall go with Loren to do some more investigating on the lower levels. It will be dangerous; there is a gang war raging and you will need to hone your ability to blend in.”
He turned to Loren, raising one of his eyebrows back up from their deep-set position, “That is, if Knight Loren can spare any more of her time to keep you from trouble?”
"I see you still 'ave a way with words, Furious Thurius," Loren said, having watched the exchange between master and padawan with slightly raised eyebrows of her own, having been at the pointy end of one of the Cerean's put-downs herself over the years. "But, sure. Knight Loren can spare a bit more time for an old friend and his handsome young companion." She quickly brought her feet back off of the table and deftly brought herself back up to her full height, energetic and ready to get going. "There's this other gig I know down on 1313, could be a good place to sharpen your whiskers," she went on, digging Mykles in the rib with an elbow. "It'll be good to have some muscle on my side for a change, too. Some guys owe me some credits..." Before the padawan could respond to her, she jutted her chin towards the bartender again. "Grab us somethin' to go, though. Give us a more authentic look for our romantic stroll past the burnin' barrels."
Mykles half raised a clawed finger while preparing to speak but thought better of it. If he had learned anything today, it was not to rise to Loren’s taunts. He often wondered how his master managed to keep the company of some of the least-serious Jedi in the business. On one hand, he was being scolded for his excitable outbursts, while on the other he was expected to suffer incessant teasing. He was as much an adult as Loren and he did not appreciate being sidelined on this mission.
“Okay…” Mykles got up with resignation to fulfil the Human’s request. He added sarcastically to himself, “More drinking is just what we need.”
Watching after the Cathar as he skulked off, the whimsical smile that was faintly playing off of Loren's lips died as she turned back to Thurius, her expression having turned serious. The look aged her, giving the Human a mature appearance that was quite beyond her years and usual temperament. "Master, you sure he's ready for this sort of assignment?" Loren offered a quick glance towards Mykles as he stood at the bar once more, shoulders slumped. "His blade is quick, I know, but so's his temper."
“Hmph, the greatest blades are forged in the hottest fires,” Thurius recited something he heard long ago from his own teacher. Master Dorson often spoke highly of the vibroblade as an alternative to plasma weapons and he had sparred with a younger Thurius with them many a time.
The Cerean continued, “If Mykles is to learn discipline, there is no more I can teach him within the comfort of the temple walls. You yourself found your strength when faced with the trials of the war and, while I do not intend to scar the young man, I do think he needs to see the reality of such a conflict first hand. Don’t engage anyone down there if you don’t have to; just show him the ripples war has on a place such as this. I shall handle this Tank fellow in the meantime.”
Mykles returned with three brightly-coloured cans of drink, “Here,” he gestured one over to Loren before placing the others down on the table, “They don’t do a Coruscanti sunrise to go, but Kandi recommended these ‘Fruit ferments’ – she said they were very sweet.”
“Probably quite sickly,” Thurius examined one of the cans up close, before tucking it away, “Thank you nonetheless, my padawan. So, you will go with Loren on her excursion and then we will meet up again in the Temple Common Room this evening."
Mykles quietly let out a long breath, still aching at missing out on the chance to apprehend the Wild Pack leader. However, he sucked it back in and caught Thurius' eyes, "Of course Master. I shall follow Loren's example and make you proud."
Thurius scrunched up his face, observing the young Cathar man he had grown so in sync with over these last few years. He did not take pleasure in disappointing him and so he offered him an olive branch, "I am tremendously proud of all you have achieved thus far, Mykles. I know you are nearly ready for your own Trials and so I just want to be certain that you will show the Council the best of what you can be."
The Cerean Master felt a warmth growing in his apprentice again through their still-developing Force bond and he became pleased himself that his words had inspired the man once again. He curved one side of his mouth up into a smile and patted Mykles on the back, "Now go and impress me. I don't want to see an apprentice this evening, I want to see a Knight!"
"Oh, you will," Loren inserted herself quickly, her lopsided smile interrupting Thurius' moment with Mykles. "I gotta pay you back for some of these drinks, after all."
TBC
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