Public Tarisian Memories

[Davik Lorso]

An exasperated sigh escaped Davik's lips as he rubbed his bruised ribs, "Could've told me it was a thirty floor drop, you know-" he watched condensation from his breath disappear into the cold Tarisian night and looked down. He was on the eighty-fifth floor of a megahousing building on reconstructed Taris after abseiling from the roof to this balcony. Somewhere halfway through he had lost his footing and smashed ribs first into concrete. It was hard reality check on why he preferred to be out in space instead of doing crazy work like this. Crazy work like breaking into some corporat's high-end apartment to steal a painting.

The slicer he was linked to was giggling. Turd. "You never would've taken the credits if I had." another reality check. Davik had demanded payment up front for what he thought was a simple delivery. Go to Taris, meet contact, bring painting back to Etti IV. It was a job that had come through the Calamari Black Market on Etti IV and Davik thought he been exceptionally clever getting the credits up front to buy some synth-uppers locally. He had run through his stock on the way over and knew it was still a while before he was scheduled to go back to the source to get a shipment for the Calamari Market. Tatooine with proper cartel glitter. Eriadu with the Zaa Fenn's synth spice. He wouldn't see either soon, so he bought some here on Taris with the money for the painting delivery. Ofcourse, only after he'd spend it did the contact reveal that the painting had yet to be acquired in the first place.

"Don't worry, be over in minutes." the slicer followed up a bit more serious as the balcony door slid open and allowed the already exhausted smuggler to enter the apartment itself. "Looking for a small painting, about twenty by twenty inches-" that had probably been enough of a descriptor. The apartment was neat with not a trace of dust on any of the surfaces and as the sensors picked up a sentient being inside soft Jizz music started playing in the background, lights went on to a warm fireplace-like setting. "Eh, are you sure you disengaged the alarm because things just came alive up here," Davik whispered in his comm unit. "No worries, man. I disabled the alarms and made the subnet think you're the owner. Whole place should respond to you now. Enjoy."

A sly eyebrow rose as Davik wandered through the spacious apartment, entered the home office and saw the prized painting. A Girl in front of a Nabooan Landscape by famed Nabooan painter Aran Dumas. He could grab the painting, return to the balcony and climb back up to the roof. Or, Davik smiled as he retrieved the small pillcase from his pocket and threw a blue synth-upper into his mouth and grinded it with his left molar. He could enjoy the luxury for just a bit. "Owner of this place was offplanet, right?"

---

[OOC: Feel free to give it your own spin when you join. Can be the owner, the slicer, a competing thief or security. Give it a spin and I'll incorporate your angle]

 

[Capris Halcyon]

Capris couldn't help but feel a deep pang of sympathy for the staff here. The uniform was horrid. Some stiff, coarse, unflattering number that she had to awkwardly cinch at the arm to fit her handicap. She hadn't been here more than an hour and already her mind was busy plotting a worker's strike on their behalf. Funny how the owners could manage to keep everything else so sublime, cutting corners the way they did.

Capris let her annoyance carry her all the way to the eighty-fifth floor, trying not to look too directly at the elevator's mirror. She briefly wondered what Kahlil would've made of all this- of her playing a thieving housekeeper instead of the respectable Jedi she was molded to be.

Like always, shame took its enternal station beside her. But, like always, she was quick to squash it into oblivion. Instead reinforcing her resolve with that old, reliable trickle of anger bleeding like a lesion in her mind. She'd been like a gale as of late. Or maybe more like a toddler. Thrashing around in a tantrum, uncaring of whether she knocked down a vase or bruised a limb. Everything felt heavy. Everything felt volatile. Which probably meant it was best to table the Sithspawn wrangling for the meantime and find a different, significantly tamer way to fill her pockets.

And what was tamer than the fine arts?

The girl sighed, plucking at the stupid clip-on bowtie attached to her shirt. A rune scratched on the door had been her reckless choice of entry, melting the doorknob along with whatever sensors were embedded inside. From there, a nudge with the force was enough too weasle her way in. It was a crude, slapdash way of going about things. Almost like she wanted to get caught. Almost like she wanted the excuse to punch someone.

Once inside, she quickly realized she wasn't the only one. Her nose twitched in irritation.

"Owner of this place was offplanet, right?"

"Feth, I hope so."

The girl answered, leaning against a carved mahogany doorframe after she'd tracked him to the office. She regarded the man before her calmly but skeptically. A spacer no doubt, definitely here for the same reason she was. Unfortunate, but whatever. Game could recognize game. Her eyes fell to the small pillcase in his hand the next moment.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to mix work with pleasure? I feel like you could've managed this one sober."

Davik Lorso

 

[Davik Lorso]

"Eh Davik, did you exit through the front door? You didn't need to break it down. Now I have to block the alarm signals from reaching-" the slicer hadn't finished his sentence before a young maid walked into the office and leaned against the mahogany doorframe. Something was off about her, he realized. Maybe it was her casual demeanor or the large Y-shaped scar on her face, but both independent from each other could be very normal things on Taris. Young adults, living a rough life and working shit jobs to make a living. Kriff, Davik could relate.

"It's just a maid, relax-" he replied to the slicer and then simply took the communicator earpiece from his ear and pocketed it. "-one who was clearly never told that work becomes a bit more tolerable with these," he held out the pillcase for her to approach it and grab one for herself.

"They're uppers. Take a minute to work, but I don't think I could manage anything without them. Not really-" the thought of his addiction, or his need to be addicted seeing the sad testament of what his life had amounted to, suddenly made him trade the smile in for a frown. "-you think the owner of this place would miss this small painting?"

He was banking on the fact that the maid didn't really care about the owners of the apartments she had to clean. If she had, she would've raised an alarm by now. No, she was a typical streetrat probably. Davik would have to pay her off with a percentage of his own fee, but if he got lucky with it he wouldn't have to climb the outside of the building again and could take a service elevator down.

Capris Halcyon

 

[Capris Halcyon]

He was entirely unconcerned with her being here. Almost like he expected her malicious compliance in all this, betting on a desire to stick it to whatever higher being had her dusting shelves at these ungodly hours.

It was an odd kind of solidarity. The type she hadn't come to expect from people of his ilk. Their ilk really. Typically by this point she'd have a gun waved in her face and expletive threats hung over her head. Bounty hunters were notoriously defensive, short-fused people. But maybe he didn't go by that kind of branding.

She said nothing as he offered the pillcase, watching as the earpiece slipped into a pocket. The girl straightened from her post, but didn't move. Instead, she watched as his expression caved from easy nonchalance to something deeper. Sadder. The hallmark regret of an addict.

She cleared her throat.

"I don't know. It's a pretty painting." Capris studied the piece a moment, "Expensive."

Her attention then flickered back to Davik before shrugging. "That being said I doubt they'd even notice it gone. Those credits could definitely be in better hands."

She watched carefully for his reaction. It would be easy to zip the painting away with the Force, set the rest ablaze with a rune, leave a mess behind like always, and scram. It was a simple 4-point plan that Davik's presence alone didn't particularly complicate. Nonetheless she hesitated.

"Why, you interested in buying?" The obvious sarcasm was paired with a raised eyebrow.

Davik Lorso

 

[Davik Lorso]

The young maid hit the nail on its head. "Expensive to the right people, anyway-" he explained as he returned the pillcase to his pocket having been refused by her. It had surprised him. In his youth, people that worked jobs like hers, they never refused an upper when presented to them. Could always fish out a narc that way, too. In the republic they weren't allowed to partake in the habit. "-would look horribly out of place on my ship, though."

His musing was cut short as the uppers hit him and a smile flashed across his face as he looked at the young maid again. "Painting isn't the only thing of value in here, though. Noticed some Corellian Brandy, Chandrilan Rum and Port l'Theed," his smile widened and if the young maid had some experience with the effects of uppers she'd recognize about all of it tells on Davik. His pulse quickened, his palms became a little sweaty and the thought of that exquisitely rare bottle of Port l'Theed dried his mouth. He wanted to enjoy himself a little in this little corner of audacious luxury. He needed it.

"Let's do some shots, check if there's stuff to pawn in the cabinets and leave through the service elevator with the painting afterwards. I'll cut you in-" he paused, seemingly to consider what would be a fair split considering the efforts toiled. "-fifty-fifty. Should be more than you make from this job in months. Can even get you offplanet. Start a new, better life."

His own excitement grew with the prospect. She'd start a good life on Etti IV, use the credits to fix her face and land a cushy job with a corporation. Or, if she was so inclined, he could introduce her to Nor'baal the Hutt on Tatooine. He'd have plenty of work for her, too. Come to think of it, though, she looked more the corporat than a Hutt's scoundrel. She was young, but her eyes betrayed experiences beyond her years. She was short, but lean and what-

"That'd prosthetic of yours would be great to open the bottles with," he nodded approvingly, bypassing the question why a maid had a cybernetic arm to begin with. What had been so dangerous about being a maid here that she had lost an arm?

Capris Halcyon

 

[Capris Halcyon]

The rabbit skip of his pulse was indeed easy to pick up on. And so was the delusion that followed it. The flush of dopamine certainly had him entertaining some awfully generous promises. He was reckless. And that desperation to escape his mind a bit burned in the Force like a shared wound. Capris honestly wasn't sure what to make of him and she had a reaction for everyone.

The girl listened as his resolve and excitement carried him away. It worked liked an ice pick against her better judgment. She was about to do something stupid.

"Deal."

Capris moved ahead, back to the lounge with the bottled liquor. He was a strange parallel to Kahlil. Crossing paths with someone of assumedly less power, offering her a ladder to climb. Kahlil definitely had a different way of going about things. He probably wouldn't have offered to do shots with her for one.

Jedi. Bunch of pious feths.

She found the cabinet easy enough, fishing out two crystal glasses before sliding one across the island. She grabbed the bottles next.

"That'd prosthetic of yours would be great to open the bottles with,"

The girl lagged a moment and tossed a glance to her left arm, almost like she was surprised it was there. It was another stolen prop like the rest of her outfit. A jank, poor excuse for an arm, something she planned to discard the moment she could. But right now it was a necessity. A one-armed, tatted, noticeably scarred street rat was hard to escape notice.

Cade may have been dead, but the twitching remains of his operation clung to her like leeches to an artery. A game of cat and mouse that was probably going to end with her killed. Her eyes fluttered shut a moment. Part of her wished she could go back to fighting Sith as her enemy of choice. At least there was purpose in that. She pulled out of her stupor and finally responded after an awkward lapse.

"Sure is. Pretty much where its usefulness starts and ends I'm afraid. It's like carrying around a comically large fork."

She then gestured to the pocket where his earpiece remained. "Should we pour one out for your buddy? Wouldn't want them to feel excluded."

They really shouldn't be lingering. Her entrance had been dramatic enough to rouse suspicion. Security would no doubt be called.

Capris decided then she didn't quite have it in her to care.

Davik Lorso

 

[Davik Lorso]

She had taken away his doubts about her when she accepted his perfect plan and so they moved towards the liquor cabinets. His reaction time was shortened due to the uppers, but not necessarily in a good way. His hand moved quickly to intercept the empty glass as she slid it across the island, but if it hadn't stopped before the edge it most definitely would've fallen off. Davik's hand was in the wrong spot.

"Better to have a comically large fork," he mused, looking at the bottle she reappeared with, "then no fork at all." He blinked a few times with both eyes and only then registered what she was saying next, something about the slicer. "Not a buddy," he wasn't sure if the slicer could hear the conversation through the muffled sounds of being inside his pants pocket. "bit of a kriffer, really. Didn't tell me I had to get that painting myself-" he shook his head, "-bad faith operator, I say." He could've been in another system right now if it had been just the pick-up he'd expected.

"So kriff him," a grin appeared as he looked at the open bottle, "My name's Davik, by the way." He took the empty glass with his right hand and slid it slight across the island towards her, making clear he preffered it when there was something to drink inside. "Independent transporter by trade," as if the independent thing hadn't been clear already. No one would've dared to screw him over when he had a syndicate or cartel backing him up. "Actually landed myself a steady gig recently," he made a dismissive gesture towards the apartment, "shouldn't have to do jobs like this anymore soon. That's why the split is so generous."

Capris Halcyon

 

[Capris Halcyon]

Capris let the liquor pour, returning the smuggler his glass with a measure of hesitation. She went quiet a moment before fixing her own shot, eyes not entirely meeting Davik's when she said, "Capris. I'm Capris."

At least there was small bit of honesty there.

"I appreciate it. Could use the break, you're absolutely right in assuming this place is miserable." Everything else about how she presented herself may have been a farce but that singular phrase wasn't. All this ping-ponging around the galaxy chasing credits and adrenaline to keep afloat was cracking her psyche. The aimless loneliness stung more than she ever cared to admit.

"And cheers on the new gig."

Did she stab him in the back now? In the service elevator? Or feed him to the security detail whenever they got their butts up here? Those uppers had clearly messed with his gauge on this situation, walking away with the full cut couldn't be all that difficult.

She imagined the freedom. It would allow her to focus entirely on finding her brother. And, to a slightly more regretful degree, focus entirely on finding Kyric

The girl downed the shot, losing herself in the feeling. With a renewed, overzealous grin she looked over towards Davik.

"So what do you plan on doing with the money?"

Davik Lorso

 

[Davik Lorso]

The liquor was meant to be savoured. Downing something this expensive was an act of rebellion on itself. Expensive liquor isn't supposed to end up as a shot, but sipt slowly to appreciate all its artsy finesse and craftmanship. Davik, in his state, only recognized it to be the "good stuff". It burned its way down and left the aftertaste not dissimilar to fresh Binka fruit. Not unpleasant. Not unpleasant at all.

"Refuel, restock my pillcase and get going to a new job," his voice seemed harsher due to the alcohol and he took a second after he'd said it to pause. "Truth is. Most of what we get from this job will be from the stuff we find. I'm just a middleman for the painting, really. Once the slicer and the broker get their fees and the exchange their commission. After I give you your cut, I'd have about a standard fee left for the painting." he seemed to count it all out in his head, which, considering the uppers, took a few seconds longer than usual. "If we manage to sell some of the other stuff in here, then deduct operating costs, then yeah I think I'll have enough for a night in the pleasure tent on Mos Espa," entertaining some Twi'leks and consuming some bantha milk mixed with Glitterryll for a night and he'll probably end up with tab he'd just about be able to pay. Or not, in which case they'd beat him up and force him to transport some thing or another for free. Davik had done this almost a hundred times over his two decade career on the traderoutes.

Unsurprisingly, a life of crime wasn't as profitable as the holomovies made it out to be. Sure, he'd have more credits if he gave up his bad habits and addictions. Then again, he'd also have more credits if he had kept to being a legit independent freighter pilot or Force-forbid signed up to pilot a bulk freighter for one of the corporations. This was the life Davik had chosen. It wasn't easy, but it was his. That was, for many reason, simply The Way of things.

"What about you?" he asked Capris, "You're not a spicehead like me, so will you get the scar fixed and find another better job somewhere else?"

Capris Halcyon

 

[Capris Halcyon]

Something about his answer had her frowning. What had she expected him to say? That he'd kick his vices, find a respectable job, invest his credits? Do better than she was? All spacers were low-lifes. He just distinguished himself by being kind.

The girl turned back to her drink. Somewhere in the back of her mind she always assumed she'd make some big dramatic return to the Jedi. But time spent away only added to the number of sins she had to repent for.

The burn of liquor helped ease the thought.

"What about you?" he asked Capris, "You're not a spicehead like me, so will you get the scar fixed and find another better job somewhere else?"

Two fingers touched at where the electrical scar tore through her cheek.

"My face? Im not too concerned about it." She shrugged, "I wear my scars proudly. More or less."

It was a weak affirmation, a quote robbed from Kyric during their time in club Everlight. She almost felt disrespectful spouting it, as if she was tarnishing his image by mere association.

"I don't know what I'll do. Probably drift between jobs, try not to think too hard about anything. Find my brother maybe."

This time she took a full swig, failing to elaborate.

"I'm open to suggestions."

Davik Lorso

 

[Davik Lorso]

She left a lot of room for follow-up questions. Capris had referred to multiple scars she wore proudly. Did she just mean the one in her face and the missing arm, or was she shaped by more conflict in her past than was visible on the surface of her youthful face? Then there was the thing about finding her brother. A more adventurous and reckless man would've immediately offered to help her find him, wherever he was and whatever he was up to. But not Davik. He regarded the young girl's scars and figured the brother to have at least as many and as severe. Whatever he was mixed up in, it was probably far more dangerous than smuggling some contraband passed corrupt customs officials.

"Suggestions?" he repeated, taking the bottle and pouring himself another. "Maybe I can introduce you to some folks on Etti IV," he mused once the burning sensation in his throat had faded away. "They're about your age, but they take a lot of risks for their livelyhood," he gestured towards the cybernetic arm. The mercenaries that called themselves 'Code Zero' were all still teenagers that worked dangerous jobs for the corporations, or sometimes against them. Davik didn't see them live to see his own age. Not with that lifestyle.

"I'm often on Tatooine as well. It's a backwater world owned by the Hutts." he didn't want to introduce her to Nor'baal directly as he knew what the Hutts would do when you offered up someone like Capris to their employ. She'd be indentured as a maid in no time. But perhaps there was another option, "I could teach you a bit about astronavigation on the way there. We fix you up a small ship and get you a job transporting spice." he refilled his glass, "It's not an easy life," he grimaced, knowing that the way he looked had probably told her that already, "but you get the freedom of being able to travel the galaxy." Owning and being able to fly your own spaceship far outranked the dependency on the large passenger transport ships. Buy a ticket, sit among thousands of other down-on-their-luck people and pick one of three destinations to go to. Gotta have a spaceport big enough to offer refuel services for a capital class ship, though!

Capris Halcyon

 

[Capris Halcyon]

Her head raised away from the rim of her cup in apparent interest. So much of "making it" in this world had been blind navigation and dumb luck on her part. What Davik offered was a group- to kick the lone wolf gimmick to the curb and possibly find an ounce of stability in her otherwise fractured life.

Then he mentioned Tatooine and Hutts and the former slave couldn't help but scowl, immediately shutting down the idea with a severe look.

"Etti VI." She redirected, careful with her words, "That doesn't sound awful." And transporting spice sure sounded a lot safer than her current repertoire of hunting Sithspawn and people. He even offered to show her the ropes, get her set up with a ship, and all around pick her up from the very obvious slump she was in. A part of her winced at yet another reminder of Kahlil. She really didn't need someone else's misguided faith in her to disappoint.

He could have been lying about all this but the Force gave no indication of deceit. Her senses weren't infallible, but the longer she talked to the man the more it seemed he was entirely authentic in the way he presented himself. If the tweaking was anything to go by, maybe a bit too much. Capris raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you offering to help me?" She regarded the man, again failing to gauge him, "Not to make any snap judgments here, but in my experience people in your area of expertise usually just look out for their own arses.”

Davik Lorso

 

[Davik Lorso]

Davik let out an honest laugh, 'You are so right'. She had pinged his true nature faster than a quickdraw artist's quickshot and that on itself was very kriffing promising. 'Travelling the hyperlanes is not just hard work trying not to get cheated by one of the syndicates or ripped off by upstart locals, but most of all-" he paused to take a sip of his drink, 'it's lonely. On the way here I watched the only Holomovie I got.' He was well aware he had missed out on a lot of good things that life generally had to offer. His flings never lasted longer than work-visit to a planet, he had no children that a man his age could dote over and no friends that weren't also in the line of business and would cheat him over the second they got the chance.

'I wouldn't mind having another sentient to talk to for a few weeks,' that's probably how long it would take to teach the rudimentaries or reach Etti IV after getting the other shipments delivered.

Capris Halcyon