First Reply By Design

[Yula Perl]

//Denon
//49th Precinct Holding Cell​

“Yeesh, watch the hair!”

There were two officers flanking the Zeltron; each held one of her arms securely. One of them sneered and rolled his eyes. “No one touched your hair.” Overworked, underpaid, and far too tired to deal with this woman’s bullchit.

Yula was tossed unceremoniously into a holding cell, the sharp snapping of the door-field reactivating behind her. Face scrunched in irritation, she scrabbled to her feet—on six inch heels, no less—and gave the officer the finger through the translucent wall of blue energy that separated criminals from cops.

“Touch this, pig.”

With the eyes of the Galactic Alliance shifting to Denon, the city-planet had ramped up its efforts to keep the streets clean. Very little was done to address the actual underlying issues that the world held, but saving face to a galactic superpower was priority number one.

At least it was to the Corpos—Yula figured that a few tips were what had led to her arrest.

With little else to do, she scooched onto the bench and combed back her hair with her fingers. The only good thing about getting snatched up by the police during a sabaac game, was that it gave you a good excuse to leave when you were losing.

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen was laying on the top stone slab that counted as a bunk, thinking about how it got her in the first place when the woman was thrown in the cell. The actual police had arrested him under suspension for attempting to kill the Jedi on the floor below and resisting arrest when he resisted the police dragging him to the police speeder, all because of a little broken chip in his head. Since they could hold him for 48 hours by Alliance Law, they threw him in this cell. Since then he had been cooling off his heels in here, waiting for a lawyer to be presented to him or to be let free. At least he still had all of his things, the guards had been too bored to search him. After some time, he heard screaming coming from down the hallway. A well-dressed woman was being dragged down the hallway and as the door-field opened, she was thrown in the cell with him.

The trooper glanced at the woman who was now yelling at the top of her lungs. While she didn't look drunk, with all the yelling she sure seemed like it. Like she got caught at a mass raid at a club and just got thrown in here for being combative. After a while of glancing at her while she looked sad for herself on the wooden bench, the clone spoke up. “So… What are you in for?”

OOC: Noncanon version of Omen who gets thrown in jail at the Crisis Talks.

 

[Yula Perl]

By now she’d been resting her elbows on her knees, face sinking into cupped hands. Yula mentally ran through the number of ways this could go down—it all depended on which charges would be brought up. That was the tricky part.

"So… What are you in for?”

Her attention was drawn to the upper corner of the opposite wall, where a man rested on the top barrack. Yula lifted her head to inspect him. What was a military outfit doing in a dirty holding cell on the lower levels of Denon?

“Fixed a few shockboxing matches. Guess it finally caught up to me, heh.”

That was what they’d said while extracting her from a seedy cantina in the middle of a gambling match. Officially, she didn’t know how much they could trace to her—the sabotaging, the raids, the smuggling. Not the police, but the Corpos who’d been feeding them information, determine to pick off the Shadowrunner flies.

“What landed you in here, soldier?”

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen swung his legs over the stone slab and jumped down, his full-face now showing to his new cellmate, from the scar over his old colored green eye to his stubble. His metal arms and legs shined against the blue door field "Oh the usual, the police insisting I have a chip in my head that makes me kill every Jedi I see and we can't have that in circulation now can we so they put me here until further notice."
The old soldier looked her over, sizing her up, before asking one simple question "If you want out of here I can make it happen but it will cost you a favor."

 

[Yula Perl]

“Uh,”

Yula scooched a little further away from the man. She’d seen her fair share of illegal tech in the underworld, but something that would modify behavior to target Jedi likely wouldn’t have come out of Denon. Sith space, maybe.

"If you want out of here I can make it happen but it will cost you a favor."

She felt his eyes on her and raised her hand, holding it out in front of her.

“Woah, slow your roll there. I’m not that kind of Zeltron.”

At least, not at this moment.

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen didn't know what was going in that head of hers but she clearly hadn't read her history books. Probably didn't go to school either...

Come on, just say yes so we can get out of here.

“Woah, slow your roll there. I’m not that kind of Zeltron.”

The trooper grew beet red before covering his face with his hand in embarrassment. Who did she think he was, he wasn't thrown in here on the charge of rape. A sigh came out of the soldier as the fingers of his metal hand ran down his face as he got on with it. "Lady, I'm not meaning that... I'm not that type of person... I mean dragging me along. You know this city much better than I do and I wouldn't mind shelter in whatever goes as one of your safehouses. Now do you want out or not?"