rex populi
ALICIO'S WAREHOUSE, LEVEL 3797
CORUSCANT, EVENING
The space had been a steal of a purchase.CORUSCANT, EVENING
At one point, the long, squat building, 1,330 levels below the surface, had been a warehouse, shipping imported machinery products across Coruscant, until the organization that built it ran dry. The space changed hands a few times, passing between starship manufacturers and startup companies, eventually scheduled for demolition.
Alicio had scooped up the warehouse at the last second, charging his aide, Orso, with overseeing the process of turning it into a House Organa-funded soup kitchen. Every weekend, the warehouse opened it's doors to those that needed a hot meal and a place to rest for a few hours. Dozens of people each day stopped by, grabbing a meal, and procuring a spot on one of the laid-out mats. Some took their food away, to be consumed elsewhere, but others stayed, chatted, just glad to have somewhere they were welcome.
But most days, the large, open space was empty, cots stacked in neat rows, crates of simple rations scattered around, the beginnings of a shower system still under construction. In these times, the warehouse was quiet, forgotten about, lonely.
Except when Alicio used it for training, that was.
The low hum of Alicio's lightsaber was the only sound disturbing the peace, as the Count, dressed in breathable workout clothes, practiced his form. He practically danced across the room, lunging stabs punctuated by sweeping, warding slashes across his body, each movement showing off the growing muscle definition in his arms, his legs, his chest, as well as his growing proficiency with the blue-and-black blade.
Kai had finally been released from prison, and Alicio was eager to make good on his promise to the Jedi. Hence the private surroundings, and the unopened pizza box on a nearby crate.
Might as well get in a little bit of training before the training, right?
- Kai Bamarri -