Pre-TL: Toss a Credit to your Jedi

[Nefieslab]

Max had to admit that a strip club was the last place he expected to end up coming to today.

Much less one he had already visited before; but it had been far too busy for his liking the last time so he had made tracks and only returned later, once the crowd had died down. Word on the street was that the owner of the strip club was the same cathar woman he had spoken to.

She had been a lovely conversationalist so he could easily see her in command of the rowdy lot inside. But the reason why he was here today was actually probably why the Force had tried to nudge him to her in the first place.

Slung over his shoulder carelessly was a thoroughly unconscious human male but in his arms was a covered person. Someone he was carrying with far more care and respect than the terrible stain of humanity that was resting on his shoulder.

He wished he had stuck around despite the numbers and the crowd before - he might have been returned with glad tidings rather than what he was returning to her with. Being admitted by the bouncers, he was escorted to her office. Once they were alone in her office, aside from the two bodies he was carrying, Max would gently lay the covered body down in a seat while shrugging the unconscious man off of his shoulder.

The landing was not gentle.

"I'm sorry to come to you like this but I have terrible news."

@Killa Ree

 

[Killa Ree]

Nash was in a good mood for once.

The music was kept muted, most of her girls were off; it was a quiet night, and the thin trickle of her usual patrons was kept even thinner now. She loved nights like these, when she could catch up with her paperwork and take inventory. The place was small, but she kept it tight and running smooth. Her office was clean and well-maintained, despite the grunginess of Nar Shaddaa, and she took great pride in making it a clean, clear space to ease her mind.

She had dressed in her daily usual away from the club; black slacks and a grey t-shirt. Long dark hair was pulled back in a semi-messy ponytail, a few thin strands breaking free.

Seeing the human male reappear was a surprise.

Ears flicked back and tail twitched when she glanced up at the human.. Max, if she recalled correctly. Hearing the thud of a body in here was nothing new.

Having a patron bring in two bodies? That was something new.

"You know..."

She laced her fingers together, eyeing first the covered body, then the place where the other one fell unceremoniously from his shoulder... then finally dragged her gaze up to Max, fingers lacing together into a steeple on her desk.

"Despite what some of my club songs say in their lyrics, we don't always let the bodies hit the floor."

Her attempt at levity fell flat; she slowly stood, fingers unlacing so that her arms would cross, features grim, tail swishing.

"What the hell is this?" Her eyes kept skipping between Max and the body he deposited gently, arms tightening beneath her bust. A faint, sick feeling started in the pit of her stomach, but she shoved it down, eyes narrowed. "What's your news?"

@Nefieslab

 

[Nefieslab]

Max had never gotten used to this part even back when he was a cop and now that he wasn't? Now that he was more in tune with the emotions of others? Of their pain and suffering?

It damn near hurt.

But it was because he knew how people felt more acutely now that he went out of his way to do this kind of thing. There wasn't any job security in it like there was for a cop but damn it if he wouldn't have felt like a massive arse if he hadn't done something when the opportunity was right there.

Sure, every time it hurt but there was nothing he could do about that except accept it for what it was. A necessity. Something for him to shoulder so that others could ease their pains.

"One of your dancers was abducted from her home." he told her, his voice gentle but his eyes locked on hers and not breaking the gaze at all as he laid it all out, "The man on the floor had become obsessed with her after seeing her here. Her and... and some others as well."

He untied the coverings slowly and removed enough to show the face of the dead dancer.

"I'm sorry but I can't tell you she didn't suffer."

The truth had to be told; no matter how much it burned.

@Killa Ree

 

[Killa Ree]

The shock hit her like a sucker punch.

She staggered, briefly, and the sick feeling slammed through her gut and pierced at her chest. She felt her jaw drop along with her arms, and for a few sickening moments she stared at the limp Pantoran he brought in with him. A low, mournful sound slipped past her lips.

And then it hit.

The rage. Just as quickly as the shock and sickened horror came, the hatred came next. It burned acutely at the base of her throat, and she looked at the other body on the floor.

Trembling.

Not because she was about to collapse--- no, she never felt more clear-headed---... but because it took every ounce of willpower she had to not tear the man that did that to her girl to shreds.

She swallowed thickly, feeling her claws begin to unsheathe against the pads of her hands, clenching her fists tight as she exhaled in a rush.

"Jazzy..."

She turned her eyes on him, then, and she could still feel it. Her lips parted as though she were going to ask something, then snapped her jaw shut, turning away as she shakily dialed on her comm to the bouncers outside her door.

"Escort the other girls home, we're closed," she clipped out, her voice surprisingly calm and even. "Take the day off too, and have Jaxu call me. Check up on any other girls that weren't scheduled today and gimme a head count." She clicked off with a quick jerk... and maintained eye contact with him, still shaking. Barely holding together enough to not kill the useless sack of meat that still laid on the ground.

"This isn't your first rodeo, cowboy. What the hell should I do with---with..." she leaned against the desk, arms crossed again. Claws dug into the flesh of her upper arms as her gaze switched to the unconscious male form.

"With that slag heap."

@Nefieslab

 

[Nefieslab]

There it was.

It lanced through him as it did her, almost instantly. His connection to the Force, as a Jedi, meant that he was in tune with those around him and the Galaxy around him as a whole. He felt her emotions. Sure, it took a little bit of concentration but that was something he saw as required.

He needed to feel it.

To understand why he did what he did still and why he was going to keep doing it. Why he was going to keep connecting himself to the emotions of those around him, the heartbeat of the Galaxy. She felt so strongly and so deeply that it was hard on him to not visibly react at first before he managed to claw it back under control.

They were not his emotions; he could control how they effected him far better than he could control even his own.

He joined her in looking down at the culprit. He felt anger and he felt disgust and he had to take a moment to bring himself back under control. Acting on emotion was not the way of the Jedi, the way of the Light, and he would not soil the memory of the dancer by acting on the same emotions the man had done that had led her to her early grave.

Reaching out, he re-covered the dancer's face again gently, respectfully.

"I have already contacted a crematorium for the young lady." he told her quietly, "I've paid for it - it wasn't much - so you and whatever friends and family she had can pay your respects a final time in a more respectful, prideful, way."

But back to the point at hand.

"I would cut him loose." he told her with a small frown, "He was working with accomplices and I have no way of tracking them with what little evidence I discovered on my own. This... man... is a clear and present danger but he is not the only one."

He knew she might want revenge but Max would not provide it.

Could not.

"But she was your worker, your friend. I will bow to whatever decision you make."

Max would not kill the culprit but he would also not be able to bring himself to stop Nash if she decided to take matters into her own hands.

@Killa Ree

 

[Killa Ree]

Again, there was that niggling feeling about this man. Something that inspired trust. It wasn't just the rugged 'dad' demeanor he seemed to exude, but something else. The anger was still there, oh yes, and the sickened outrage.

But there was something else there now. She had to realize more lives were at stake than simply her other girls. Hers. Her brother's... and their business.

She saved it from the brink of death and kept it supplied well enough to keep some gangs flush with her hard-earned cred. A wordless nod was the only motion she made to acknowledge the kindness he gave to her, exhaling out with a shaky rush.

She wasn't going to burst into tears over this... not yet. There were other things she had to do first.

The door hissed open to a Cathar male, in similar appearance to Nash, but lighter in color. Their height was the same, however, but where she was dense, and well-muscled, he was lanky, long limbs and rakish long hair. He saw the two bodies... and rushed towards the unconscious male, his face a tight mask of pain.

<<No!>> She hissed, and he stopped, one clawed hand raised, glancing at her with wild eyes.

<<Take him out of here, Jaxu,>> she snarled, then continued on in Basic. "Take him to Aubrey. He'll know what to do."

The male looked between them... and a scowl sneered on his lips. <<They'll keep coming for more. Why did you have to save this piece of slime place?>>

His features softened at the other body slumped on the chair... then easily hefted the male, scowling.

"He'll be safe. For now." With that said, he openly glared at Max as though to say something.

Then stalked out, tail lashing as he did.

"Tracking, evidence... what the hell are you." She half-asked, half stated bleakly, glancing back at the body of Jazzy with a pained expression. She let out a low sigh... then stepped past him briskly, body taut with still resisting the urge to pummel something. Or fall to pieces.

"Care for a drink to distract me until I hear a roll call?" she tossed with a weak smile over her shoulder, attempting to give a grin. She could still feel the anger pressing against her throat, but she wouldn't act on it yet. And there was nothing she could do for her dead dancer; somehow, she felt like the man before her knew what he was doing. She wasn't up to being alone in a room with a body yet, and the coroners called would take a while getting there.

Something told her this man wasn't new to watching someone getting violent over losing a loved one. She wasn't going to lose control yet... not until after a couple drinks.

Then maybe she could work it out of her system with a couple punches to a good ol' punching bag. But the night was still young yet; she would have to wait and see.

@Nefieslab

 

[Nefieslab]

Her brother's entry was nearly startling enough for Max to instinctively reach for his lightsaber, hidden away in the folds of his clothing, but he managed to hide the aborted movement into a slight tensing and jump. The kind of thing a normal person would do when a large cathar man came into a room apparently looking for blood.

He refused to out himself so easily however and managed to avoid bringing out the glowing blue sign that screamed "JEDI" to everyone within half a mile.

Max watched as the two of them conversed - and made no indication that he could understand every word they were saying. People tended to react more honestly if they believed you couldn't understand what they were actually saying. It was something he had learned early in his career as a cop when people thought that talking Huttese was the best way to avoid incriminating themselves around cops.

Like seriously, as if cops weren't trained to understand perhaps the only language in the Galaxy basically marketed towards criminals and those with ill-intent.

Honestly, he wouldn't actually be surprised to find out that the government had spread the idea that cops and authority figures couldn't understand Huttese if only so that the criminal elements would get over confident. Of course that idea would require faith in the competency of the government and that was... lacking in Max.

"A drink would be lovely." he agreed amicably with a small smile, which dipped again as he continued, "I really am sorry to have brought this news to your door but I couldn't bare letting you and the others live with worse; the Not Knowing."

Not Knowing was... it was worse.

A mother could lose her child and it would be a hole that never left her but she could built herself back up around that void. But a mother who didn't Know? If the child MIGHT only be gone? That wasn't a void, that was a black hole. The woman would never be able to build herself back up with that unconquerable weight bearing down on her forever.

Sure, Nash wasn't the mother in this situation but the dancer would have had one. And friends went through the same kind of trauma all the same.

"I used to be a cop."

He smirked a little bit.

"Don't worry - you're all up to code." he joked lightly, "I do things like this from time to time because, well, I don't like to think about what kind of person I would become if I could ever learn to just ignore things like this."

@Killa Ree

 

[Killa Ree]

Yeah.

She knew all too well about the Not Knowing.

"Girls disappear all the time."

She finally answered, pausing at the entrance to the club.

Total silence, completely empty. She sighed, stalking through with her head held high, gritting her teeth as though that was going to stop her from feeling that stab to the gut any more keenly. It didn't work, but focusing elsewhere did. So she focused on him.

"Most of mine were from other clubs or down on their luck; I give them a place where they can work, and build their lives." This was all stated matter-of-factly, as her hand ghosted over one chair, then across the bar, where a few glasses still littered the surface. Her lips twitched at his joke, but she shrugged, snagging two clean glasses and setting them up.

"Pick your poison."

When he did, she would pour two, then stalk back to him, leaning against the bar. "...I just knew it." She exhaled shakily, brow furrowed. "I try to protect 'em, but it's a tough place, you know?" She blinked hard, then shrugged as if to shrug the many thoughts off, fists clenching.

"Heh. A cop on Nar Shaddaa… it almost sounds like a poor joke." She gave him a tilted side eye, snagging her own glass. "What's a cute cop like you doing on such a rough patch of galactic backside, huh?"

@Nefieslab

 

[Nefieslab]

Girls disappear all the time.

Ugh... if that wasn't a story that Max had heard far too often. He heard it both sides as a cop and had to tell parents that there was no finding their little girls. That the leads had dried up and there was no way to find them without a miracle.

And all too often he and the parents both knew exactly what had happened. The girl was dead, high off her head, a slave or a combination of the last two.

It was enough to make even a Jedi feel doubt in the idea of Light existing in a Galaxy of such frequent wrongs. He nodded once to her point before addressing her question instead.

"Whisky, please." he requested, taking the offered drink before taking a sip of it, "Nowhere rougher than this planet."

Nowhere lower.

Almost nowhere darker.

Probably why he was still here - he was a sucker for a lost cause and there was nothing here but desperate lost souls crying out for help. He chuckled obligingly at her comment about it being cute that a cop would be on Nar Shaddaa.

"I was never a cop here don't worry."

Basically the polite way of telling her he had never worked as a glorified criminal enforcer.

"Got here hitching a ride - it was supposed to be a quick stop but... well..." he looked out the window of her office at the cityscape outside, "Just couldn't walk away. Too much injustice. Too many... screams... all the time."

For someone in tune with the Force it was worse. Every time he sat down to meditate he stretched his mind out around him and he drank it all in. He damn near marinaded himself in the emotions of Nar Shaddaa before letting them go into the Force. It was a great way to exercise control of emotion in the Force but it meant he felt all the wrong, all the suffering, and he just couldn't sit there and do nothing.

He felt like he couldn't leave.

"Suppose I'm trapped here."

@Killa Ree

 

[Killa Ree]

Yeah... the thought that this was the norm, it didn't mean she was happy with it. And she almost resented being thrust into this role... she hadn't wanted to run a strip club. But now, she felt trapped.

Funny how such a crappy place could tie you down and make you feel gutted of any good.

"I know what you mean," she sighed, running one hand through her hair and feeling a few more strands slip free of the ponytail. "Most of my girls... they had no choice for the life they'd been given. But I helped some of them get clean, some of them even get to leave once they save enough."

She scowled down into her glass, taking another gulp, then setting the glass down, crossing her arms.

"I can feel it, sometimes." They tightened reflexively, as though she were warding off a blow, tail curling around her legs and ears back. "That... oily, sick feeling. Corruption maybe? And those girls, most of them, haven't been poisoned by it yet."

She picked up her glass again, tilting it at him. "Get out of here while you still can," she reprimanded, then paused, giving a wry chuckle.

"...Is what I wish I could say, but I know what you mean. I'm trapped too."

Another low sigh slipped past her lips, and some more of the anger ebbed away. What lingered in its' place... was something she had fought hard to keep at bay these last several months.

Guilt.

Somehow, it was all her fault these girls were continuous targets. That feeling just crept up on her now and then, a slick and oily feeling of despair. But meantime, perhaps she could keep it at bay with some drink and someone that seemed a bit too good for a place like this.

She could always go to the gym the next morning and pummel the guilt out of her then.

​

@Nefieslab