Private Playing Shepherds

[Malcoma Hesse]

Asking for help was not Mada—Headmistress Hesse's forte, but the Family had for seen fit to grace Malcoma with one more chance to get this playing nice thing right, so it was of great import that she figure it out, and quickly.

Thus, when one of her girls—now all living in the Guesthouse rather than the dormitories of Eden's Club—had failed to return home at curfew, Ivory Stroud had been her very first call rather than Wynter Rackham or Judah Lesan or even Damris. Malcoma hadn't been able to gauge the Donna's reaction to her apparently actually learning from her gross mistake of secrecy as she had been diverting all her energy to calm her crawling skin, but it must have been received somewhat well, for Ivory assigned one Dominik Borra to assist the Made woman in tracking down the lost lamb.

As the Hapan waited outside of her new residence for help to arrive, she paced the cobble-paved driveway, a hand in her loose blonde hair and a blue eye on the time. It was told by an old-fashioned watch, not a holographic widget, on her wrist. Very few Coruscanti maintained physical clockwork these days, or shot metal slugs from their revolvers, but both fit Family aesthetics just fine. In fact, they were somewhat telling to those who knew what signs of trouble to look for.

In her free hand, she clutched a folded piece of photo paper.

 

[Dominik Borra]

Dominik hadn't been sent out on a solo mission for The Family before. He wasn't nervous, he had completed many solo missions for the various groups he had been with but this was the first time the Mob had sent him out. They must be trusting him more. Out to one of their higher ranking members, one Malcoma Hesse . Ran a safe house for escaped slaves and a gentleman's club. He wondered how many of those slaves ended up working there, and it must be at least a good percentage. Though with The Family's policies on slaves, he could be assured that none of them were pressured into working there.

He rolled up in the rental speeder he had gotten from the spaceport. It was a lovely place, really old-fashioned. No metal walls here, instead brick, mortar, and a cobblestone driveway. He found the pretty blonde woman who matched the description of the one he was sent to help, pacing the driveway. She looked stressed and worried, to say the least.

He arrived without his standard armor, he wasn't thinking he would be walking into a firefight, but instead wore flying leathers. On his hip was still his Heavy Blaster, and in a large bag on the back of the speeder was all of the parts to his DC-17m Weapon's System. He was packing light, all things considered.

​

He parked his speed a few feet away from Malcoma and took off his helmet. Sure, most people riding speeders didn't wear one but hiding his identity now that he had come back from the dead and joined the mob was a good idea. Plus safety. He also wore armored fiber under the leathers.

​

"Here to track down a lost lamb." He said as he stepped off the speeder towards her. He made a show of his eyes looking over the place. "Though with a place like this, I don't think your lamb ran off."

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

Malcoma turned on the heel of her boot too quickly to not be nervous and stressed. The movement revealed an all-back outfit of a camisole, sheer turtleneck, and paper-bag trousers—much more conservative than the numbers she used to sport as a madam.

"No, no," she began, shaking her head as she met him halfway on the drive. She unfolded the photo and handed it towards Dominick. "Vahleet loves it here. They all do. No one would leave." She looked up at him. "I mean, they're allowed, of course. I'm rehabilitating here, not revictimizing, but she at least would let me know her plans.

"She was on the closing shift early this morning at my club. Kimeln, one of the Goons, was supposed to walk her home. I haven't seen either."

Dominik Borra

 

[Dominik Borra]

Vahleet was the name of the girl, then. Dominik took the photograph and looked at it. Pretty face, young, black hair. He listened to Malcoma Hesse as he memorized the face in the photograph. Supposed to walk her home... so as nice as the guesthouse was, it wasn't too far from the club she worked at. And a club could be filled with people who hungered for her enough to try something, but the Goons weren't idiots. They were specially trained foot soldiers and would be able to protect her unless something big happened. And if one tried his own hand at taking the girl, he was more than a dead man, the Goon had to know that.

"Let's walk over to the club then. If you know the route she takes, we'll take it exactly. See if anything happened on the way, any signs of a fight or a struggle. Then we ask around the club, alright?" Normally he would tell a client to sit tight while he did the legwork, but you didn't make Made in The Family by collecting enough bottle caps. You had to be smart, resourceful, and usually good at defending yourself. She also would know a lot more about how the club works, the workers, and would be able to give him access to places he otherwise might get thrown out of.

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

Malcoma nodded. "This way..." she said as she walked past him up the driveway towards the main road, the took a left onto the sidewalk. Damris, when she had told him, had suggested the same course of action, but she had thought best to wait for a third party, as it were.

When Dominik caught up with her, she made herself glance up at him. Her smile was strained. "I-I know the Donna asked you to come," she began, "but thank you for saying yes." She came to a stop at the curb of a pedestrian crossing that was not clear. The gust of wind caused by a passing car tousled her hair; she rose a hand to tame it again with one backwards swoop. "I appreciate it."

The crossing light dinged to green. She stepped off the curb, strode across the way, and stepped back up onto the other side. Dominik would have a few minutes to speak, if he wanted, until a patch of skin on Malcoma's wrist turned yellow. At first, she didn't notice it, then a small beeping emanated along with the light from under the skin. She glanced at it. "It's a signal," she explained. "We're close it's origin point."

Dominik Borra

 

[Dominik Borra]

Dominik made sure his speeder wasn't going anywhere and left the helmet. He soon joined her side as they walked, keeping his eyes out and head on a swivel. Too many years of practice and discipline to do otherwise. It wasn't even a conscious effort at this point. She thanked him for coming to help her. Which... was odd. She outranked him heavily within the organization, but the way she said it, the way her smile was strained, her voice tight... Every Family had a black sheep. Was Malcoma Hesse it? Ivory didn't seem to have any malice towards her, so maybe Malcoma just felt like she was. Or maybe she wasn't used to getting help.

"Why wouldn't I say yes?" He asked. "The Donna just said that you needed help. You could say I have a knack for finding people." But he smiled anyhow. After a few more steps he'd say, "You're welcome." With a long glance in her direction. It wasn't often, if at all, that he had been thanked. It... well dammit, it felt nice to be thanked. Mission after mission, kill after kill, he couldn't remember the last time he was thanked.

As they walked and had a few minutes, it seemed like a good opportunity to ask questions. "Do all your girls get walked back by their own bodyguard? Or is it a select few that make the trip back and forth? Do they vary their routes at all?" He didn't suppose that they did. With the Goons watching them, they probably didn't worry much about murderers and kidnappers or anyone else tracing their movements. Only now, after today, they might.

He glanced at her beeping wrist. "A signal? Do they wear trackers?" He asked, his eyes now more on the job as he looked for anything out of the ordinary.

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

Before she was interrupted by her wrist, she replied, "No, not at all. Most of them are driven by a chauffeur I've handpicked. I trust him implicitly, but that hardly matters in this case. Vahleet has a phobia of speeders, you see. Any kind. Most slaves in captivity on a densely populated world like Coruscant are rarely moved. The chance of them being caught is too high, even in the seediest parts on world. But she, she was trafficked around regularly regardless. If Eden's was on the other side of this level, she'd still walk."

After she was interrupted, she said, "Not in the traditional sense." She rose, twisted her wrist, and tapped on the small square that was lit up. "Shallow implants tell me what rooms a girl has been to at the club. It helps myself and security protect them from the...rowdier patrons." If he knew what she meant. "Or did. We don't offer that service anymore. I value my girls' anonymity but also keeping an eye on them." This was the compromise she struck with herself.

"But yes, a signal," she continued. "Recordings can be made and dropped for any other implant to find."

In a block and a half's distance, Malcoma stepped off the sidewalk to approach a couple of storefronts. She glanced down dark the alleyway between them. "I think it's in there."

Sure enough, it was, a few meters swallowed into the shadows. Malcoma squatted to the floor, keeping her knees off the dirty ground but hovering her wrist closer over it. The beep became a chime and then died out.

She stood back up. "Let's see what she has to say, why don't we?"

Tapping her wrist, an audio playback began, a short sentence in a woman's voice: "I don't see why I just can't tell mother, ... ..." Some static obscured what was probably the last word.

Dominik Borra

 

[Dominik Borra]

So Vahleet was the best target then if someone wanted to take one of the girls. He understood the phobia coming from her past. Moving under her own power must have felt good and comforting, maybe even empowering.

The implants sounded like keycards or sorts. You couldn't track them specifically, but when they hit certain areas they would be logged with a time and place. But that ability to drop a message in a location for other implants to meet up? That was incredibly useful. "No physical object left behind? Just a signal sitting in a spot?" That was some incredible technology that would revolutionize spy work and drop points. And she used it to track her girls. He needed to get a few of these if she would let him.

He listened to the message, the last word unintelligible. "I'm guessing you're 'Mother'?" He asked Malcoma Hesse . It seemed right, but he needed to make sure she wasn't speaking of her actual mother or something. "And she left this message intentionally, not by accident?" He thought it over for a moment. "Something happened, and she was taken somewhere." He examined the alleyway for signs of struggle, blast marks, anything. "Maybe by her Goon for her safety, or someone else is leading her away, telling her that it's not ok to tell you something."

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

She nodded again. "Yes, but my girls only refer to me like that when they're in trouble, so it'd be very intentional."

There was no sign of a struggle for Dominik to find.

"I agree with you," she added. "We just have to figure out which one." Kidnapping or avoidance of one, that was. "This," she tapped her wrist before putting it back down by her side, "is untraceable, but it put us on the right track. Should we get to the Club?"

When they got to Eden's, either straight away or after another delay, a familiar brunette man in a suit walked out to meet them on the corner in front of the entrance. "I trust you remember Damris?" she asked Dom.

Dominik Borra

 

[Dominik Borra]

So 'Mother' was their code word. Interesting. That meant she didn't trust whoever she was with, leaving a coded message behind where she knew Malcoma would find it. This wasn't looking good. But there weren't any signs of a struggle. Whatever happened, it didn't happen here. If only those things could be traced, this would be over fast. But it did give them a good clue. He nodded. "Let's get to the club. Maybe someone saw who she left with or someone following."

When they arrived at the club Dominik saw the brunette man walk up to them. "I do remember Damris. I was wondering when I'd see him here." He turned to address Damris fully now. "I assume you know why we're here. Do you have any information on Vahleet, anything at all?"

Malcoma Hesse

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

Yes, the bodyguard did know why they were there even though the Club was closed for the day. The Donna might have been Mal's first call, but it hadn't been her only.

Damris stepped forward to shake Dominik's hand. "Not at the moment," he answered. "But I have all my men out looking. Someone will have something soon enough." He slid a hand into the small of Malcoma's back. "We can talk more inside." Whoever had taken Vahleet, in his mind, could very well be targeting the headmistress indirectly.

After leading them to the security hub in the back of the Club and shutting the door behind them, Damris turned back around and addressed Dom again. "I do have information on persons of interest in the meantime." He walked over to a desk where a couple of flimsiplast files were arranged. Picking them up, he handed them to Dominik. "Kimeln Celwik, the Goon designated to walk her home." His was top of the short pile.

"I doubt he did anything to her," added Damris, his voice insinuating that he had done something to keep the man in line.

"But I can't say the same for the...fans she amassed when Eden's was what it used to be. First suspect is Arabe Ordes, a spice dealer who took a startling liking to Vahleet."

"You don't even have to continue, Damris," Malcoma replied. "It's her." She turned to Dom. "Ordes once tried to spike one of Vahleet's drinks, get her hooked on her nastiest supply. I banned her from Eden's for that and Damris personally made sure that she'd never be bold enough to show her face around here again."

Dominik Borra

 

[Dominik Borra]

If men were out looking, that meant a lot less leg work for him. Possible leads were better than endlessly wandering.

Dominik kept quiet and assessed the halls and doors, his unconscious mind always on the lookout for danger and possible cover. The security room he took a closer look at until Damris handed him the files. Kimeln the Goon seemed unlikely, but had to be involved somehow. Arabe... He flicked his eyes to Malcoma Hesse as she spoke. She obviously didn't like Arabe and she had history with Vahleet, but he was here to find the girl, not affirm one's dislike for another. If it was her then she'd go down like anyone else.

One trusted, one disliked...

"Arabe has more motive for sure. Spite and revenge are good motivators." He thought out loud. Then remembered the left behind message.

"I don't see why I just can't tell mother, ... ..."

Maybe the Goon had seen something, was telling her to be quiet instead of sounding the alarm. It could be a number of scenarios, but that message was left intentionally, and it sounded like something you would say to someone you currently trusted. Or maybe that was the point to hide her leaving the message... More questions. But now they had another name to look into.

"I'll track down Arabe. In the meantime, think you could clean up the audio from the voice message Vahleet left behind? There is static obscuring some of it, might be important."