Ask Coruscant Consequence

Emil Ro

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Supreme Chancellor

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Mockingjay
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Emil was working a long night at his desk in his apartment at 500 Republica. The news cycle was aflame and he was barely able to keep ahead of it. The Jedi had won a battle at Denon, a battle he himself had not won. The Syndicates had struck and critically wounded Mon Cala. The Hutts had taken over the criminal underworld on Ord Mantell, to the Republic's galactic north; and now there was some rumblings of Sith sightings on Mandalore. Add to all of this an upcoming meeting of the Galactic Senate. It was all too much.

When Emil finally couldn't take it anymore, he shoved away from his desk and strolled into the living room. It was cooler in there. A cold draft from the open balcony wafted into the room, carrying with it the sound of Coruscant's countless skylanes. He took up an iced glass of something strong he'd had sitting around on his coffee table and drank deeply. The sounds of Coruscant always soothed him when he was stressed. But they proved to be not enough this time.

He worried for the Republic.

More and more worlds were leaving by the day. It wouldn't be long, he thought, until there was no Republic at all. Unless the Republic was just Coruscant and the corporate worlds, and what Republic would that be? He supposed he would find out at the next senate meeting. For now, he sucked in another gulp of night air, closed his eyes, and tried to focus elsewhere on anything else. Like what that miserable wretch Jin was doing. That one was never up to any good. @Sreeya
 

Edin Frost

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Independent
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Renowned Assassin

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Sreeya
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Several buildings away, atop a roof, there was a lone figure lying prone along the top. This figure had been there for hours now, not moving a single muscle. There was an impressive and long blaster rifle perched in front of the figure, propped up and pointed at a very specific target. There was a small datapad with various antennas and frequency readers constantly providing live information.

The winds shifted and changed, and the readings changed accordingly. Rapid math was calculated, accounting for drift, trajectory, velocity and countless other variables. They were formulas the man had written himself, preloaded to be constantly updated with live data to spit out results on the fly. This was not something he was going to simply eyeball like he had with the Mon Cala admiral.

He closed his eyes and exhaled, opening them again as he looked through the scope. He saw his target, but he would be patient. He studied the man’s face, his posture, any subtle clues as to how he would move next. He would wait until the target was still, his own posture as still as possible. His finger flirted with the trigger, but didn’t fire just yet. All his comms and any distractions were completely off.

If the man that had called for this wanted to pull back, it was too late now.

@Mockingjay
 

Emil Ro

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Supreme Chancellor

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Mockingjay
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A stray gust of wind brought Emil out to his balcony. His speeder was there, though he didn't climb in. The temptation to escape his apartment and head to the office to work was flitting and brief, dying with the breeze. The Supreme Chancellor's Office at the main Senate District was not ever closed to him, but if he went there, aides would pester him all night long. The call had just come in from the Joint Chiefs that a war band of Mandalorians had launched an attack on Lothal. It was the first attack the Mandalorians had made in years.

He needed to get a statement out. Say something in defense of the Free Worlds Alliance. But fuck, what was there to say? The Alliance was being eaten away one planet at a time. If he sent ships to defend them he would no doubt be villainized for taking aggressive measures. No, best to just make a statement and wish the Prime Minister the best. If she wanted his help, she would ask for it. Either way he wasn't holding his breath.

He drank what was left of the content of his glass and sucked in a deep breath of fresh night air. And coughed, because the air on Coruscant wasn't fresh. It was smoggy and gritty, like inhaling sand. Not as bad as Balmorra but close.

Balmorra.

He didn't think he would ever long for home after being elected Chancellor. He had sworn up and down he wouldn't. But he did. He missed it, smoldering pits of acid and all. Balmorra was a shithole, but it made sense. The politics of it made sense. He had done well for himself there. Yes, maybe that's what he needed. A trip home. He turned around, and marched back towards the open apartment. One call, and he would have his trip arrangements made.

The only question? How long to stay. @Sreeya
 

Edin Frost

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Independent
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Renowned Assassin

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Sreeya
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He calmly watched as his target gestured to move. He threw back his drink and spun on his heel. It was a straight gait, carrying him on a simple trajectory. Even then, Edin didn’t move a muscle. He watched the target pick up a comlink and stand still for just a moment. That was his window. The balcony door remained open, giving him a clear perspective inside. The datapad flashed with the latest calculations. His gaze flicked over just for a moment before focusing on the scope again.

With that, he pulled the trigger.

The tibanna gas immediately converted and left the heter valve, pressing into the xciter and leaving with a beautiful, soundless burst. It sailed uninterrupted through the air, following the exact trajectory calculated. Leaning just the right way against the wind. Arcing exactly as measured. Soaring above countless speeders and people far below and out of sight.

The bolt carried the ramifications of the future. The disasters that would ensue. The chaos that would grip the galaxy. But also memories and hopes never completed. One last dance with Jin Vaisra, one last quip in the Senate chambers, one more comedy tabloid feature. All of it burned away as the bolt seared through air towards its destination.

Edin watched till it was done. He moved at last, calmly packing up his rifle. He methodically worked to remove any trace of himself from the area, no cameras anywhere near him. He folded everything up in a suitcase before picking up his burner comlink to notify his client.

It is done.

@Mockingjay
 

Emil Ro

Faction Leader
Rank
Supreme Chancellor

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Mockingjay
Joined
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Emil didn't even feel the pain of the shot that killed him. Instead it felt as though he had been hit with a heavy stone, and then cold rapidly spread through his body like ice. Darkness crowded the edges of his vision. He didn't register falling. Nor hitting the hard pavement of the balcony—he'd not even fully made it back inside. His life came at him like a rush of memories, sweeping him away into a sea of blackness.

Then light. The Light.

And through it all, Coruscant continued to whirr around him, completely unaware that its leader was dead. The Republic's leader was dead. Tomorrow, perhaps even tonight, the HoloNet would have wall-to-wall coverage of his assassination. The Senate would likely convene an investigative panel. Speeches would be given, perhaps, if anyone felt him worthy of them. Promises would be made to find the people responsible. Who knew how this might affect things? The future of the Republic. The progress of the ongoing wars. Perhaps it would be but the smallest splash in the grand scheme of things.

Emil already knew the answers. Where he was, time didn't exist. He saw the past, the present, and the future all at once and regarded them indifferently. They no longer concerned him anymore. Then, as the last shreds of his mortal consciousness faded, he lost track of who he was and simply became one with the Force that closed around him like a family's embrace.

/End thread
 
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