Teatime

[Larisa Arkyadvich]

Larisa sat in her plainclothes outside of a small tea shop on Coruscant. Of course, ‘plainclothes’ still meant all black. Pleasantly cool, the weather allowed for the investigator to wear her favorite black, thin, long coat over her dress shirt and pants. Not looking presentable at all times was something Larisa found utterly unacceptable, and seeing others not keep themselves well taken care of infuriated her. It was elitist, she knew it, but she refused to associate with those who could not do something as simple as take care of their own personal hygiene.

A protocol droid with the embellishment of a waiter’s vest welded onto his chest waddled up to
Larisa’s table. He held nothing in his hands, and the woman’s face scrunched in annoyance, she knew what the machine would say before the words ever processed through his vocalizer. ”Terribly sorry madam, but your Spice Tea will not be ready for some time, as we are still waiting on our daily delivery. May I retrieve you anything else while you wait?” Waving off the droid, Larisa responded curtly, “No, that will be all. Thank you.” Of course the only decent tea shop around would have their kriffing delivery late.

It was early in the morning, to be sure, but Larisa expected her tea! “Haar'chak…” She whispered, annoyed more greatly by this simple inconvenience than she would have liked. Well, it wasn’t as though she needed to go anywhere. Her scattergun rested in it’s holster on the inside of her jacket, strapped to her chest, and Larisa adjusted herself so that she might be a bit more comfortable with the weapon on her person. Looking out, she started doing a little ‘people watching’ of the early risers and the very late drunkards that loitered around the streets at this time. If she was on duty, she might have considered arresting the drunks for public intoxication, but right now she was content that they were not her problem.

It wasn't that she couldn’t contain drunkards, it was that she found it difficult to contain her own impulse to just taze each and every one immediately in order to make arrests easier. That and the home office had supplied her with a tasing scattergun. How could they hand something like that to her and not expect her to use it? The thought of firing that scattergun brought a thin, genuine smile to Larisa's face for half a second before she squandered it away. Looking out, she gazed and gauged the crowds around her, assessing their mood.

 

[Jacob Tagger]

Why he had thought returning to Coruscant would be an improvement, Jacob had no idea. He had thought that finally escaping his tiny cubicle on Zeltros would be a good idea for a while yet it was all so similar. Beings of all species were the same everywhere and that was never more apparent than in the early morning when last night's party-goers meshed incongruously with the business world waking up and heading to work. There were a few improvements though, small though they may be. This was Coruscant and that meant certain behaviors found elsewhere (hanging a repeating blaster out the window of a speeder to discourage impatient drivers came to mind) were frowned upon.

Sidestepping drunks as they teetered into planters and elbowing his way through throngs of business beings queuing up at the public speeder docks, Jacob made his way along the elevated pedwalks from the station to a tea shop he remembered being quite good. Among this crowd in his well worn black jacket, button down shirt and slacks he was just like everyone else and a few more minutes of threading his way through people brought him to the tea shop.

Galaxy's Finest Hapan Spice Tea!
Imported directly by Tzigane Teat Traders Ltd.

The garish sign in the front window, stationed directly above a frustrated lady's head seemed a cheesy marketing strategy to Jacob. It was, however, somehow tantalizing and he made his way to the counter to place his order with the droid attendant. A brief converstation with the droid informed him that it would be 'some time' before his tea was ready. Something about a shipping delay, but the droid said not to worry, if he would like to wait he could take a seat on the terrace out front and wait. It would surely be here.

With the HNN building being only a few towers over and still having a good amount of time to spare, he did as the droid suggested and took a seat at a table near the frustrated looking lady he had noticed before.

"You would think," he scoffed, "that with that sign, they would at least try to have their products on time."

 

[Larun Durante]

“Damn it Kytos, where in the hell are you? Where are my reinforcements?” Larun shouted into his comlink, desperately trying to hold on for dear life to the speedertruck that was now roaring far up and away from his post on level 1331, spinning, weaving, and honking its way at high speed through waves of startled traffic. It was supposed to be a simple warehouse inspection, one they had done hundreds of times before. Go in, if it was clean “encourage” the owner to donate a little bit more to the police force, if it wasn’t, extract an even larger donation from whatever syndicate it was linked to, with some low level grunt going to jail if necessary. Everyone made money, no news or attention was drawn, the galaxy kept on moving, and Larun gained more of the resources he needed to escape to a better assignment. Win-win for all involved.


Except this time when he and a few of his officers had knocked, then forced their way in, they were met with something other than fear and obedience-an instant, heavy wave of blaster rifle fire. It had been so unexpected that only his Sith reflexes had saved him as he ducked behind a shipping crate, not even having time to ignite his lightsaber. Poor Torvald, standing directly behind him, took eight shots to the chest. Larun had felt his death before his body had hit the ground. From there all manner of hell had broken loose, with the officers and Larun on one side and the gang of clearly offworld spice addicts or whoever was crazy enough to cause this much trouble on the Imperial capital.


Whoever it was, however, had quickly realized that to stand and fight was a losing proposition the moment Larun, in a rage, flung one of the rusty metal pipes that had been lying on the warehouse floor through the chest of a male Twi’lek, then sliced the hand off a woman who tried to stab him with a vibroblade. The decision to grab the back of the speeder truck that they were piling into had been impulsive and without much thought-he figured he would slice through the back door-and whoever was inside-and put an end to this mess once and for all.


And then it had blasted off at full speed, with it taking all of Larun’s concentration to hold on to one of the two bars at the back, one hand on it, the other on his lightsaber which he desperately tried to flail his way inside with. The problem was whoever was driving was doing a damn good job attempting to shake him off and keeping him off balance enough to score only glancing hits at the truck. He did not even want to look down.


If I can ju-


Another violent swing, this time an abrupt break so far to the left he nearly lost his grip.


“ALL RIGHT THEN!” He snapped, focusing his concentration enough for a telekinetic throw of his blade into the truck’s right engine compartment, which it struck with an explosive sputter of black smoke and flame, sending the truck spiraling wildly out of control towards the ground. Luran hung on for dear life.


I am not going to die like this, I am not-

Pedestrians began to point and shout as they hurtled toward the ground of what was a much nicer shopping district than he was used to. He could feel whoever was driving trying to pull up and slow their descent-enough so that they wouldn’t explode when they hit the ground-as panicked civilians and stumbling early morning drunks scrambled out of the way.

By some miracle, or the Force, the driver managed to level the truck out at the last moment, scraping the bottom of the truck along the streets, causing sparks to fly with the friction but avoiding an all out nosedive as it spun around and around, decelerating. Larun decided now would be the best time to throw himself off before it slammed into a wall and crushed him, and he let go of the back of the truck, using the Force to try and slow himself and cushion his fall. He had been aiming for a streetside clothing vendor, but had misjudged the distance and instead found himself smashing through the glass front of the tea shop, at least being lucky enough to control his landing, shielding his head and neck with his arms as he flew across the top of a wooden table into some romantic couple enjoying some early morning breakfast before finally tumbling to the floor.


“Spast…” He gasped, rolling to a halt, trying to catch his breath, marveling that he was not dead, though his entire body felt like it was on fire and that he had broken at least one leg. His robes were tattered, and he was cut by the glass in more than a few places. He heard the truck crash into something outside, but he wasn’t sure quite where, nor was he in a rush to find out.

 

[Larisa Arkyadvich]

She spotted him long before he noticed the tea shop. Larisa's keen gaze picked out a familiar face in the crowd, though she wasn't sure exactly where she had seen the man before. The highlight of blue eye shadow clearly outlined the direction her matching eyes drifted off to. The investigator had to catch herself to make sure it had not been obvious that she had been staring at the man as he approached the same tea shop that Larisa waited at.

'The strings of the Force are a mysterious thing' The voice of her old master echoed in her head as the familiar man sat at a table nearby. Larisa was the skeptic type, and despite feeling and controlling the energies of the Force around her, she never fully accepted that it possessed some sort of 'will' that it enacted on the galaxy. It made her feel small, as though she were nothing more than the puppet in a strange and unknowable god's game. At least in her disbelief, she could gain some comfort. But it was moments like these, where the improbable and unlikely occurred, that instilled a small sense of doubt in Larisa.

Having been turned away from the man until now, as he spoke directly to her, the investigator was finally able to thoroughly examine the man's face as she moved slightly to turn towards him. Did she remember him for his decently attractive face? No, she rarely remembered others for attraction alone. Maybe his charismatic voice and solid grip of confidence? It had to be something else. As the man's introductory small talk finished, Larisa flashed a fake smile and responded.

"You would think so, wouldn't you? It's half decent tea though, despite the sign that's clearly compensating for something... Now, stop me if I'm overstepping my boundaries, but you look familiar. Have we met before?"

It was at this moment that the truck, heralded by the screams of pedestrians, came into view from the sky. It spun and sputtered through the air til the truck smashed into the ground, having barely avoided exploding by leveling out at the last moment. More interesting than that, a man flew from the vehicle and towards their direction before the truck impacted. Tracking his trajectory with her eyes, Larisa calmly decided that she would not move. A robed man flew past Larisa and her newfound companion and smashed through the glass window with all the grace and majesty of a bull bantha being tranquilized.

Pegging the man as some sort of Sith, Larisa called out to him, "Better get up and finish your job, Sith!" Then, under her breath, she added, "Force knows I'm going to have to clean up your kriffing mess." Turning once more towards the familiar looking man, Larisa coolly introduced herself, "My apologies, where were we? Ah, I'm Larisa, it's a pleasure to meet you. And you are-?"

@Lucid @Dawyn

 

[Jacob Tagger]

He couldn't blame her. Journalists, particularly those who didn't sit at an anchor desk, didn't have the most memorable faces. While it was useful from time to time, it made for a lot of awkward interaction with passerby who stared at him, vacant looks consuming their faces as they tried to place why he looked so darn familiar.

"The pleasure's mine. And no, I'm sure we haven't met. You see I --" and then the screaming began framing a somewhat comical scene. Two people sitting at a cafe, with a truck dive bombing the area, people fleeing. Dimly he noted his companion was remarkably calm. The truck leveled out at the last second, something flying from it. The screaming began to change to angry yells and the wail of sirens.

Jacob experienced an odd moment of clarity.

It was one of those weird times where Jacob could feel when something was coming his way. He never knew why it happened, or how or really what triggered it...some time ago he had read an article about auditory clues triggering reflex and had long sense assumed that it. One moment he was making perfectly civil small talk with a fellow patron and the next he was snatching a decorative vase off the table and pushing his chair back out of the way of a large man in robes all but swan diving over the table and through the plate glass of the window.

He replaced the vase, flowers unmolested, and turned back to his companion, Larisa, she was saying. "Sith, is it?" he asked mildly."If anything reminds me I'm not covering deaths and scandals on Zeltros anymore it's that. Zeltros was more strippers giving men heart attacks with their tits than Sith crashing through windows. I'm Jacob, by the way and no, I don't believe we've met. I used to do investigative reports for HNN's expose series a couple years back so maybe you saw one of the holos?" It was a standard response one he had used any number of times.

He gazed at the pile of robes that was the supposed Sith trying to decide if it would be worth investigating for a story. Nobody had been hurt and Sith always complicated things, much to the chagrin of editors and reporters alike. He turned back to Larisa--who looked utterly nonplussed by the whole situation--if she had any clue as to what was going on when the butler droid came dashing out of the entrance looking as confused as a droid could look.

"I'm sorry sir and madame," it wailed, "but it would seem that our delivery of tea will not be arriving today!"

And with that, his mind was made up. Sith being thrown from crashing tea delivery vehicles was just absurd enough to make an excellent story, especially if there was something more sinister that sparked the whole chain of events. Getting up from his chair, he went to lean against the now vacant window frame and addressed the pile of robes that was groaning amid the devastation.

"Are you alright? Should I call for a medic?" he began, noting the blood but deciding it wasn't enough to be seriously concerned about he decided to ask the obvious questions. "How did this happen? Why were you riding on the truck?"

@Black Noise @Dawyn

 

[Larun Durante]

If it had just been him, recovering from the fall as some anonymous person amongst some crowd of strangers, Larun might have just have decided to lie there and lick his wounds. After all, he had went above and beyond what was expected of him chasing the offworlders, spiced up criminals, or whoever. Few Sith would have given enough of a bantha crap to latch themselves onto the back of a speedertruck in revenge for one dead officer and a bit of wounded pride. They would have seen it beneath them, not worth their time, let some Agent handle it alone. Maybe show up once they were captured and torture them for the pleasure.


But then that infernal woman spoke.


"Better get up and finish your job, Sith!...”


He only caught the next part due to the fresh rage of the above comment already beginning to bolster his senses and connection to the Dark Side, as he pulled himself, painfully, up to a sitting position against the wall.


“...going to have to clean up your kriffing mess."


Snapping her neck would have been so easy. Just reach out with the Force and shut that impertinent bitch of a woman up. She would not even have time to hurl another insult at him...

Clarity. No normal citizen would dare brazenly address a Sith that way-or pick him out as one so quickly. For all your typical Republican citizen knew, he was just some unfortunate guy in dark colored robes. The way that she had spoken to him…


As the other man got up from his chair, and as that damn protocol droid muttered something about tea, not even programmed well enough to offer assistance to a wounded customer, he let his senses range over the woman through the Force. Something...not strong enough be another Sith…an Agent? A particularly unruly one? Who else would dare? Rebel, maybe, but he doubted it. They would not draw attention to themselves like that.

Before he could finish his analysis of “Larisa”, the man she had been sitting with addressed him. Straining his neck to get a good look at him, he paused for a moment before answering. Hadn’t the other said something about Sith as well? And said it so nonchalantly. Another Agent? He did not seem as...hardened...as the other woman. A citizen? Not a normal one. But at least someone who saw enough of the Sith to not be surprised...and to know when to be courteous.


Gritting his teeth, he responded, deciding on a more polite approach despite the rage within him. It would be far more difficult to do this alone. Reaching into his robes and pulling out his police attache badge to flip it at the man as he struggled to his feet, supporting himself against the wall and the counter, using his frustration at both Larisa and the men who had ruined his perfectly good day to call upon the Dark Side, before stashing his credentials away once more.


“I’m a Sith attache working Level 1331. Routine...warehouse inspection...suspicious reports. Breached the door after announcing ourselves, expecting the usual, spice addicts, petty thieves. Usually give themselves up without much trouble. Ran into some heavily armed gang...not sure if offworld or not. Killed one of my officers. Thought they could just get away after that. I thought otherwise.”


Agony lanced through his entire left leg, but adrenaline and the icy concentration the Dark Side afforded him did wonders. He had lost his lightsaber during the landing, and knew he didn’t have much time if he were to apprehend the criminals...if they had survived the crash. Maybe he could do it on his own. But it would be a hell of a lot easier with real support.


“Kytos, ETA?” he grunted into his Comlink.


“15 minutes sir…trouble with the speeders again...not enough funding at the lower-”


He shut off the transmission before his officer could finish.



“Citizen…Agent?” He managed, looking at Jacob, and then with a sharp glance at Larisa and a herculean effort to be civil “Agent...assistance in this matter would be greatly appreciated if you could find the time.”

@Black Noise @Lucid

 

[Larisa Arkyadvich]

Larisa could feel the rage seething from the Sith at her words. He clearly felt incited to violence in addition to his pain and humiliation. She allowed her presence to be known as he reached out in anger to assess whether or not he could lash out at her. No, he could do no such thing. Larisa Arkyadvich was an Imperial Republica agent and as such a colleague and peer of this Sith. He would need to temper himself in her presence if he didn't wish for a report to be filed against him.

Looking to her new companion, Jacob as he introduced himself, Larisa allowed a genuine smile to play across the soft pale features of her face as she responded to him. "Imperial Republica Agent, actually, though I'm currently off duty. And suffocating men with breasts? By the Force I'm glad I'm not stationed on Zeltros. That must be a nightmare to try and sort through. I do believe I have seen one of your exposes! I work primarily with the investigative division here on Coruscant. Our jobs are more similar than not."

Watching the protocol droid express despair would have normally greatly annoyed Larisa, after all this did mean she wasn't going to be able to get her tea today. However, in this specific situation, she found it more humorous than anything else. Jacob seemed to put her in such an uncharacteristically pleasant mood. Making sure her weapon was still secured, the Imperial Agent decided it would be best to get moving.

Standing, Larisa found herself following the reporter towards where the Sith had fallen. She, however she possessed no intention of assisting her fallen comrade. She watched, calm and collected, as the man revealed his police attache badge. Not like she needed to see it, no Sith in this area was going to be anything other than an honorable member of the Imperial Republica. He leaned against the counter, allowing it to support his broken body as he described the situation.

She had heard it a hundred times, participated in such raids a few times herself. No-knock raids always went south. 'Just a spice den' or 'just a den of prostitutes' wasn't something that was easily dealt with. One man hopped up on death sticks with a blaster was just as dangerous as a Mandalorian in the right situation. Unfortunate though that an officer had been lost, but such was the job. There was a reason that the troopers all wore the exact same faceless black armor. One death among their number was just as much a statistic as a thousand.

And just like that, as the Sith barely finished describing the situation, backup radioed in to inform him they were delayed. Typical. Turning to Jacob and herself, the Sith requested their assistance 'if you could find the time,' in his words. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned to the reporter and spoke, "Well Jacob, you're free to assist our morning interruption if you please, but-" At that moment, she glanced at the Sith, "I'm off duty. Good luck!"

Putting her hands into her jacket coat, she turned to walk out of the broken tea shop. To be certain, her body was prepared to react at moment's notice if the Sith decided on the crazy idea of attacking her. But otherwise, she added to Jacob as she walked off, "You can come along if you'd like! There's a nice, intact coffee shop down the way. And I'm going to enjoy my singular day off per galactic standard week."

 

[Jacob Tagger]

"I'll catch up with you soon," Jacob called to Larisa's retreating form. "It seems that I have some work to do." He hoped he would find her later, she was an interesting lady.

Everything about the Sith's story had sparked his interest and his suspicion. While she might have had the day off, Jacob was now technically late and this was just too good an opportunity to pass up. As it was it was a small miracle that the plaza wasn't swarming with reporters already. Even on Coruscant a vehicle almost crashing into a walkway full of pedestrians wasn't a common occurrence. He turned his attention back to the Sith, still waiting his reply and glaring in Larisa's direction. Rage was like heat waves pouring off the Sith, thankfully it didn't have a smell.

Jacob stepped fully in front of him, undaunted...the man didn't look like he'd be moving very quickly with that leg, it was impressive enough that he was even conscious, let alone standing. There was an opportunity here that he had to take. Opportunities to interview such a key person were almost impossible to get organically and in the moment.

"My name is Jacob Tagger," he said, flipping open his own HNN press identification and pulling his portable holocam from his bag. It floated next to him the cameras taking glorious wide shots of the rubble, the window, the bloody man and the still distressed pedisteians."I work for the Holo News Network."

He chewed his lip for a moment, and fixed the young man with a hard stare. "It seems that you're going to have to wait for you backup," his mild voice was businesslike and professional now. His usual sardonic drawl gone, he began firing off questions and speculation.

"Could you explain to me how a 'simple warehouse raid', something in and of itself surprising to find a full Sith attache part of, turned into such a disaster? Were you responsible for the damage to the truck that caused it to almost crash into hundreds of pedestrians? Are your actions and indication in a change of Coruscant law enforcement policy? Should we, the people of Coruscant be concerned of such escalation of situations in the future that could potentially damage our homes?"

The questions poured from him rapidly, with out pause for breath or answer, all the while Jacob's gaze scrutinized the man with a predatory gleam. He had smelled blood.

 

[Jacob Tagger]

OOC Note: Dawyn is out for the time being and gave permission via discord to allow me to complete this section without him.

A disinterested look came to the Sith's eyes as Jacob started asking questions. It was followed almost immediately with all of the standard denials and assurances that Jacob had expected but he had what he wanted. The beautiful shot of the man's face with no expression of care or interest while Jacob's voice asking questions in the background was all he needed. It would be all over the news in only a matter of hours.

Excusing himself to Jacob, the Sith man lurched off--it was still amazing to the journalist that he could even stand, let alone move--to find someplace quiet to lick his wounds and seeth. Or whatever it was that defeated Sith did when they were alone, Jacob didn't particularly care.

Deftly he ran a hand through his hair and oriented the hovering holocam so that the smoking wreckage of the truck and still-hysterical crowd of pedestrians could be seen behind him. Taking a deep breath he began to speak in that oddly robotic, quasi formal tone that practiced reporters had had for all time.