Public Dying for Lunch

[Linny Rennis]

So, it was like this: imagine it's lunchtime. You're a Jedi... but not a particularly good one. Your last Jedi thing went badly, when your homeworld was attacked by brutal marauders with horrors beyond imagination. You don't remember too much of it, because you spent the majority of it getting seven shades of shoot knocked out of you by a Sithspawn and clutching the leg of a passing Jedi Master. You're starting to think that Mom was right when she said you weren't cut out for the Jedi thing.

Shut up Mom, I'm a big girl now.

Anyway, it's lunchtime. You're leaving behind your meditation and your second-year history essay to go get something to eat. It's a pretty nice day. Things are looking up. There's a food stand that you love just by one of the big parks; the one with the fountain that makes the weird noise and squirts multi-coloured water. You're dying for a bantha burger, literally dying. It's all you've wanted. It's all you've craved. You can practically taste it.

Which made it really annoying when the cook turned up dead. To be frank, it sucked hard.

Linny had found the foodstand closed, which was odd. Normally, the Besalisk that ran the place was stood there, frying off an orgy of artery-clogging delights. There'd be a queue a mile long of other desperate college students and people who didn't know any better. But... nada. Nothing. That was odd, because Nakka worked every hour he damn well could. Something about his kid's school money. And yeah, he could just be having an off-day, but Linny couldn't see a closed sign anywhere. When she approached the little building, she noticed the door at the side was ajar. Her detective senses tingling, she carefully nudged it open with her shoe and peeked inside.

She didn't find the burger she was hoping for. What she found instead, was the distinctly unappetising sight of Nakka the cook, bent over and buried half-deep in his fryer, with a blaster mark on his back. Linny winced, getting the scent of something nasty in the air. Damn, poor Nakka. It was a crying shame... but Linny felt that unmistakeable tingle of something to solve. But certain matters had to be done first, before someone caught her poking around near a dead body... again. Stepping outside for a little fresh air, she took out her datapad and sent a message to the relevant authorities: CoruSec, with the investigative branch of the NJO CC'd in, of course.

Padawn Rennis (NJO Investigator):- murder, male besalisk "Nakka" - Nakka's Grubs 'n' Bits, coordinates to follow.

All she had to do was wait. Wait until she got a little help, or at least clearance to poke her nose around a little. Maybe now, she might actually prove she could do this thing.

 

[Mylo Thorne]

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LOCATION: NAKKA'S GRUBS 'N BITS
EQUIPMENT: DC/04 SERVICE PARTICLE BLASTER PISTOL
TAGS: Linny Rennis

​

Mylo hated the mess hall food. It consisted of mostly tubes of mush that while were incredibly nutritious, left much to be desired in the way of food. He wondered why this was the case for the capital world of the Galactic Alliance in which they would likely be able to procure and food they wanted. It greatly annoyed him. Revenant Squadron were supposed to be living the dream. Well. It could be argued that the cushy accomodation and numerous recreation facilities served that purpose, but what he didn't understand was why that couldn't apply to the food. It was every squadron's dream to be assigned to Starfighter Command HQ on Coruscant, but it was turning out to be his nightmare.

Bored and hungry, he had snuck out of the mess hall and down into Galactic City to get some real food. Mylo knew Nakka well. Back when his holomoviestar parents were on Coruscant, he would sneak down to the diner to go and indulge in some sickly-sweet treats and some conversation. The restaurant owner was a friend, and would often give him discounts if he ever came in, which Mylo appreciated despite never really being strapped for cash. Sauntering down that familiar corner, he understood why this place was called Galactic Centre. Great varities of people's of different backgrounds, creeds and intentions. The war had taken him away from places like this, but, he decided it was good to come once in a while.

One of the first things he noticed was the crowd. While many liked to frequent this particular diner, Mylo could never really remember it ever being this busy. Not so busy that the volume of people meant some had to stand outside. First red flag. An eyebrow went up as he pushed through the crowd. Many made way for him, seeing his uniform. He wore a brown bomber jacket with a Starfighter Corps insignia on his left shoulder, and another that read REVENANT SQUADRON, in golden aurebesh letters. Underneath it was a list of planet names which corresponded to battle honours, which some might have found strange due to his relatively young age. However, it was not the oppresively bright orange GA flight suit that made people move, but the dark, scratched service blaster at his hip.

Mylo rapidly unholstered it, holding it close to him. "MAKE WAY!" He ordered, holding up the blaster and running toward the ktichen where everyone seemed to be gawking. Approaching with caution, he crossed the threshold, and was horrified by what he saw. Nakka seemed to be leaning in the fryer, a mark, which he quickly noticed came from a blaster clear on his back. Placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking him rapidly, he tried to wake him, but to no avail. Wiping away a single tear and holstering his blaster pistol, he pushed through the crowd again, and noticed a brown-haired young woman possibly of a similar age to him, typing on a datapad.

He decided to introduce himself. "Flight Officer Mylo Thorne, Starfighter Corps, have local authorities been called yet?" Mylo tried to act somewhat officiously, adopting a stiff posture and a rigid tone of voice that most definitely did not suit him.

 

[Linny Rennis]

Somebody was shouting, but she took little notice. There tended to be a lot of people shouting when there was a dead body. She should probably be trying to contain the situation, but hey, she wasn't a cop. Just cop-adjacent, which was much cooler and with more deniability. CorSec would hopefully be there soon and they could push the people back, lay out the tape, keep the nosy away whilst she did some actual crime solving.

Then someone was talking at her. She looked up from her datapad, expecting someone a lot older than herself, especially with that voice. What she found instead was a young guy, roughly her age, in an orange flight suit. One with shaggy dark hair that begged to be tousled and deep, gorgeous green eyes that she couldn't help but stare into...

Linny got ahold of herself and shook her head, standing straight up. She was a Jedi, not a lovestruck teenager. Certain standards had to be upheld. She noticed the blaster holstered at his hip, along with the insignia on his jacket arm. What the heck is a fighter pilot doing here? What the heck is a guy my age doing being a fighter pilot? Part of her wished she'd kept her lightsaber on her belt, just to seem more official. Unfortunately, it was in her satchel bag, along with her notebooks and a few crumbs.

"Uh yeah. I just contacted CorSec," she started saying, trying to affect a little more confidence. "Padawan Alienor Rennis, Jedi Order."

That's right, pilot boy, I've got a title too. And I've got space magic.

"Do you deal with many murders in the Starfighter Corps, Flight Officer?" she asked, unable to resist rubbing it in a little. "I'm only asking because I'm waiting for CorSec to arrive before I investigate the scene properly. Psychometric analysis, that kinda thing." Only she would make psychometry sound like a proper scientific technique, instead of just touching stuff and seeing if memories leaped out at her.

Mylo Thorne

 

[Mylo Thorne]

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LOCATION: OUTSIDE NAKKA'S GRUB N' BITS
EQUIPMENT: DC/04 SERVICE PARTICLE BLASTER PISTOL
TAGS: Linny Rennis

​

Mylo raised an eyebrow. "A Jedi huh. I didn't know that they sent Jedi this far down." He joked, a smile forming at the corner of his lips, and the edges of his eyes just slightly wrinkling as that smile came though. He steeled himself, trying to focus on the task ahead. "Well it's a pleasure Padawan Alienor Rennis of the Jedi Order." One thing he had a query about was her weapon. Every single Jedi that he had met and fought with always seemed to have the ubiquitous sword of light that made them so recongisable. He looked her up and down for the metallic hilt, but didn't find it. He considered asking, but thought better of it. Turning toward the shop, a saddened look passed over his face as people clamoured. Mylo inched in closer, looking around him as if to check it anyone might be listening in.

"Listen Jedi, between me and you. Nukka.. Nukka was my friend. And in a job like mine, you don't make many because they could be gone in the blink of an eye. I have a vested interest in tracking down his killer. There's something you gotta understand about CoruSec this far up. They'll come down here sure enough, ask some people a couple questions, maybe open an inquiry, but nothing'll come out of it. They probably won't even log it down, because of who he was.." He said, adopting a more serious expression which might've made him look older in a certain light. While his features showed his youth, he had a distant look in his eyes, a pained one, that told a story of deep seated hurt.

"I wanna find whoever did this, but I can't rely on Coruscant Security. I've fought with Jedi, I know and I can trust you.. Well.. Most of you anyways. But I'll need your help."

One tenet of his being was that he never ever gave up on friends. It encompassed a belief amongst the people of his homeworld, Humbarine that you never left someone behind. He ran a hand through his unkempt dark hair and gave a long, drawn-out sigh. "What the hell is Psychometric analysis anyways? You Jedi and your magic always seem to confuse me. But anyways, magic is magic. And if that magic can help me find out who killed my friend, I'll take it, in the blink of an eye." Mylo thought through the logistics of this hairbrained plan. Of course, they wouldn't really miss him at Starfighter Command. Assignment to Coruscant was essentially shore leave, and so he was covered on that end. But there was one hurdle he needed to cross. His boss, Commander Tren Chaar. If he caught wind of what was going on, it would be immediate probabtion, and toilet duty. And he sure as hell did not want that.

"So, are you in, Padawan Alienor Rennis?"

 

[Hilal Vizsla]

Current outfit

Location: McYoda's


Hilal leaned against the wall near McYodas, the music blaring in her headphones. The young woman was sipping on some Jawa Juice her head slowly bobbing back and forth. Next to her legs was a bag containing a Starship part, specifically a: ZX-19 Compressor that she needed to finish a starship repair back home for a client. Hilal's shop didn't have the component for it, so she had to contact her supplier only to find out that he was unable to ship the part due to him being arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct and the Coruscant Police Force grounded him for 3 months.

The young woman had to take her ship, fly to Coruscant, negotiate with the Police, and take the Compressor from her supplier. Hilal gave the supplier an earful before leaving his apartment. It was waste of time which could be spent hanging out with Hex but nooooo the chit had to happen. A simple repair was unnecessarily got stretched out because of her supplier's stupidity. Sighing, Hilal checked her watch observing the status of her ship, she made a stop at McYoda's to quench her thirst before taking off. She had enough of Coruscant especially after the raid against the senators.

Looking up, Hilal's eyebrows crinkled into a frown witnessing a couple of people around her age conversing near NAKKA'S GRUB N' BITS. Hilal shrugged at first before her watch picked up a message. "A murder near Grub n' Bits?" Hilal whispered. Well then, this got interesting even though it's from a stinking Jedi if she paid up then maybe this arduous trip would be worth it after all.

Turning off her headset, Hilal pressed the ridge of her glasses upwards before marching proudly towards the group. "Hey!" Hilal barked. "Which of one of you people is the Jedi Poodoo who sent the message? My name is Hilal of Clan Vizsla and I'll help ya if you're willing to pay."

Linny Rennis , Mylo Thorne