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Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos
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Konrad Heron
Detective Extraordinaire
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Heron P.I. Agency -- Coronet City
It was one of those rare, beautiful days.
Rain had the ability of washing away the smells and smog of the industrial sector. Even if, it was a more than slightly acidic downpour, as the panorama of weathered facades could attest to. As if seeing was not believing, he let the invigorating cold seep through the exposed skin of an outstretched arm, acknowledging the gentle kisses of the raindrops. Leaning forward, with both elbows resting on top of the balcony's railing, he brought his right arm back below the cover of the awning. Then, with a single action, simultaneously combed his hair and dried off his right hand, while at the same time taking another puff from the cigarette on his left. Freeing both hands by letting it stay balanced between lower and upper lip, he rolled down both sleeves of his shirt.
They say water can wear down mountains, but apparently it had a hard time doing that to a man.
Taking it out between index and middle fingers of his right hand, he flicked the ash of his cigarette into the air and over the railing. The strong winds making them vanish, immediately, seemingly swallowed up by the aether. The acrid tang on the edge of his mouth was what warned him of having reached the filter tip, and so he put it out, tapping the butt against the surface of the ashtray that was on top of the round table at his side, before stubbing it out for good. Proceeding to pick up the half-empty glass right beside it, he promptly washed down the aftertaste with the remainder of that single malt Corellian whiskey. As the ball of molten lead on the pit of his stomach grew bigger and tried to climb out his throat, it spread its warmth throughout his body. He rotated the wrist holding the hand that was holding the now empty glass. Ritualistically swirling a liquid that was not there, while he lingered in contemplation of a high horizon, broken at countless right angles, dotted below by the kaleidoscope of neon and holograms.
His hair was parted on the left over his widow's peak and cut above the ears, and was as dark as his irises which, in turn, were almost as dark as the pupils they enclosed. The tall and statuesque man, caught a whiff of ozone.
"Storm's coming," he said, to no one. And, with that, went back inside. Closing behind him the door that separated the interior of his studio apartment from its exterior balcony.
Built from what was once a warehouse of some sort, the apartment had ceilings about five meters high. Half of its four walls were two-by-two, side-by-side, glass windows; their frames, durasteel. The other two, were paved in rosewood-colored duracrete. Poor insulation, high ceilings, tall windows, and a wide open space, made for an expensive electrical bill, all year round. And the gig economy was starting to take a heavy toll on him. As such, he poured himself another drink from the bar.
The double doors of the turbolift opened straight into his pad. To the immediate right of someone coming in, there was an open staircase leading to the larger mezzanine. Beside it, a single door. Opposite, to the left, all the way towards the back, was a second flight of stairs leading to a much smaller entresol. This intermediate floor has just enough space for a tall bookshelf and a beanbag chair. Below that, besides the staircase, was the occupant's work desk. Where he would often receive his clients. The center portion of the room, longitudinally, was laterally next to the windows on the left. Its sunken floor, ringed by three orthogonal columns, enclosed a living space with an L-shaped bonded leather sectional sofa and a round coffee table within. Against the windows were the giant screen and speakers, part of a modern entertainment system that, curiously, was also connected to an old-fashioned turntable. Some Bith jazz band was left on the player, but the system was currently turned off.
The sounds of rainfall, now syncopated by distant thunder, were the only melodies being played.
At the back, where the door leading to the balcony was located, was a sonic billiard table and, to the right of it, the kitchenette equipped with all manner of food-processing apparatus. Cups of instant noodles and empty pizza boxes and the like, were strewn about. The wall was covered floor to ceiling with shelves filled with different bottles. And, a wide counter, similar to what you would expect to find at a cantina, separated the gaming from this feeding - mostly drinking - area.
Below the main stairs leading up the bedroom mezzanine, was a punching bag, several weights, a gym bench, a couple of arcades - featuring the lovable classics, Galactic Tiles and Wookiee Warpath - and, finally, an assortment of small cargo crates. A king-sized bed and a clothing rack, were the major elements of the mezzanine floor, that had a second single door leading to the bathroom.
Artificial plants and movie posters decorated the corners and walls.
With nothing else to do, the man sat on the sofa. Placed his feet on the table, and turned on the flatscreen. The broadcast was going on about the body of this poor kid that was found on the bay. Nasty stuff, even for Coronet.
He muted it, for the same reason that he had chosen to ignore the datapad at his side, that was left on top of the leather cushion. It had been all over the news for the past couple of days, even obfuscating other important reports, such as those of escaped convicts on the other side of the Galaxy. Feeding on someone else's misfortune was still a part of our darker angels. These so-called news merely followed the ratings and the money.
A ring of the turbolift let him know that someone had just stepped in and was coming up. High up on his penthouse, he had about three seconds before the solid outer doors opened up to reveal the inner scissor gate, behind which someone could point a blaster at him.
He had three seconds to reach for a blaster himself. Fortunately, his prized Arbiter was right by the datapad.
Konrad Talon Heron, private investigator extraordinaire - as he liked to call himself - had the blaster in hand before the doors opened.
Katarine Ryiah
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Konrad Heron
Detective Extraordinaire
This time, it was a whiff of lilac that reached his nostrils, before the doors were even open. The kind of scent that usually a woman would wear. And not one looking for trouble - certainly not trying to go by undetected, while wearing such memorable fragrance.
It only took him a split second to discard the sense of foreboding and let go of the weapon, before it was even fully raised and aimed at the doors, as they were opening. Heron then promptly covered the blaster with the datapad, but not fast enough to evade her detection.
Such an impressive awareness, he had only witnessed from those Force user types. And, most often than not, meeting one of those was like flipping a coin, each face carrying their own unpleasant consequences. The first words out of her mouth though, made him feel somewhat at ease. Maybe he had been lucky, and she was one of the rare ones, actually capable of forming their own opinions and not be tethered by dogma.
Also she was not wet and not carrying an umbrella. So there was that.
"Apologies," he said getting up, making a point of revealing the blaster and placing it on the table top, loosely picking it up by the grip between thumb and index fingers. "Our receptionist droid was dealing with a bad motivator. One can never be too careful in this line of work, you know?
"But please, do come in. Me casa is sue casa," he fumbled.
She was a potential client. Said so herself. A Jedi would never lie and a Sith would have had him lying on the floor already. So she was either speaking the truth or playing some kind of game, which would make her out to be one of the rare ones after all.
"Can I offer you a drink, before we get down to business?" he motioned towards the back, where the bar was. "And to make amends for my previous mishap."
Her clothing made it look like she was trying to intentionally blend in, which rich dames looking to catch their husbands red-handed do not bother to do, and neither do people in distress. She was likely trying to conceal whatever affiliation she had, which meant she had one and it was either somewhat compromising or related to her being there. Likely both. And as such, he was not going to press the matter until she first brought it up.
Her short jacket, the length of which drew attention towards her shapely legs and lower torso, was not hanging at the same height on both sides. She was hiding something beneath it and it could not have been a weapon, since the posture just was not right for it. Something she is afraid to lose?... Maybe. But, most likely something that was also a part of the reason that had brought her there. Something flat and rectangular in shape.
Konrad placed two empty glasses on the counter top, and displayed the bottle he had been drinking from, as if asking whether that would be a suitable choice. Pouring the liquid into both glasses - which he would do regardless of her answer - the P.I. tried his best to pass off his inquisitive glances as admiration of her pleasing features. Hopefully, doing so in a discreet manner, so as to not offend or come across as too much of a creep.
"So, why is a pretty woman like you in need of the services of a man like me?" he continued the ruse, taking a sip from his drink.
He believed he had it all figured out. The dead body on the news, the escaped convicts, the case files hidden inside her jacket, her demeanor and clear competence - regardless of how much she was trying to hide it - and the fact that she had decided to come to him instead of his old buddies. All of that, could only mean one thing.
However, as per usual, Konrad would let the other person be the one to say it. After all, the amount of information that someone is willing to provide, is also information in itself.
Katarine Ryiah
It only took him a split second to discard the sense of foreboding and let go of the weapon, before it was even fully raised and aimed at the doors, as they were opening. Heron then promptly covered the blaster with the datapad, but not fast enough to evade her detection.
Such an impressive awareness, he had only witnessed from those Force user types. And, most often than not, meeting one of those was like flipping a coin, each face carrying their own unpleasant consequences. The first words out of her mouth though, made him feel somewhat at ease. Maybe he had been lucky, and she was one of the rare ones, actually capable of forming their own opinions and not be tethered by dogma.
Also she was not wet and not carrying an umbrella. So there was that.
"Apologies," he said getting up, making a point of revealing the blaster and placing it on the table top, loosely picking it up by the grip between thumb and index fingers. "Our receptionist droid was dealing with a bad motivator. One can never be too careful in this line of work, you know?
"But please, do come in. Me casa is sue casa," he fumbled.
She was a potential client. Said so herself. A Jedi would never lie and a Sith would have had him lying on the floor already. So she was either speaking the truth or playing some kind of game, which would make her out to be one of the rare ones after all.
"Can I offer you a drink, before we get down to business?" he motioned towards the back, where the bar was. "And to make amends for my previous mishap."
Her clothing made it look like she was trying to intentionally blend in, which rich dames looking to catch their husbands red-handed do not bother to do, and neither do people in distress. She was likely trying to conceal whatever affiliation she had, which meant she had one and it was either somewhat compromising or related to her being there. Likely both. And as such, he was not going to press the matter until she first brought it up.
Her short jacket, the length of which drew attention towards her shapely legs and lower torso, was not hanging at the same height on both sides. She was hiding something beneath it and it could not have been a weapon, since the posture just was not right for it. Something she is afraid to lose?... Maybe. But, most likely something that was also a part of the reason that had brought her there. Something flat and rectangular in shape.
Konrad placed two empty glasses on the counter top, and displayed the bottle he had been drinking from, as if asking whether that would be a suitable choice. Pouring the liquid into both glasses - which he would do regardless of her answer - the P.I. tried his best to pass off his inquisitive glances as admiration of her pleasing features. Hopefully, doing so in a discreet manner, so as to not offend or come across as too much of a creep.
"So, why is a pretty woman like you in need of the services of a man like me?" he continued the ruse, taking a sip from his drink.
He believed he had it all figured out. The dead body on the news, the escaped convicts, the case files hidden inside her jacket, her demeanor and clear competence - regardless of how much she was trying to hide it - and the fact that she had decided to come to him instead of his old buddies. All of that, could only mean one thing.
However, as per usual, Konrad would let the other person be the one to say it. After all, the amount of information that someone is willing to provide, is also information in itself.
Katarine Ryiah
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Konrad Heron
Detective Extraordinaire
Raising an eyebrow, Konrad took a moment to think things over.
"While I appreciate the candor, let's take a step back and start from the top, shall we?" He took another sip before putting down the glass. "The name's Konrad Heron, private investigator. But you already knew that.
"Now, in the spirit of reciprocity, what's your name, who do you work for, and who's this person of interest you're after?"
Raising a finger to her lips before she could answer, and not once looking in the direction of the files, he walked towards the sofa and picked up his datapad. Making some swiping and clicking gestures on the screen as he returned to the counter, he took a seat right next to her, on the same side of it, and then placed the datapad on her lap. On it, a headline mentioned the words Black Marsh, with a mugshot of a male in his late fifties, sunken eyes, thinning dark hair, and a circle beard. Giving the woman some time to examine the tablet, Heron stretched his arm, leaning over the guest in order to retrieve his whiskey. After drinking the leftover liquid in one gulp, he placed the empty glass on the counter. Some showing off of his skills were in order, lest she decided he was not the right man for the job.
"What the public know and what you know, might very well be two different things." He touched the datapad, now on her possession, a couple of times in order to bring forth a writing interface where he scribbled some figures. "I believe that someone capable of such despicable acts belongs in prison or worse, as much as the next guy. For such a task, those are my fees. If you agree to them, then we can begin right away." A professional through and through, he would not even glance at the case files before she agreed to hire him. "And we should start with you telling me everything you know about the case and how exactly it is that you think I can help."
After which, Heron had a good idea on where they should go next.
People still have a lot to say, even after losing the ability to speak.
Katarine Ryiah
"While I appreciate the candor, let's take a step back and start from the top, shall we?" He took another sip before putting down the glass. "The name's Konrad Heron, private investigator. But you already knew that.
"Now, in the spirit of reciprocity, what's your name, who do you work for, and who's this person of interest you're after?"
Raising a finger to her lips before she could answer, and not once looking in the direction of the files, he walked towards the sofa and picked up his datapad. Making some swiping and clicking gestures on the screen as he returned to the counter, he took a seat right next to her, on the same side of it, and then placed the datapad on her lap. On it, a headline mentioned the words Black Marsh, with a mugshot of a male in his late fifties, sunken eyes, thinning dark hair, and a circle beard. Giving the woman some time to examine the tablet, Heron stretched his arm, leaning over the guest in order to retrieve his whiskey. After drinking the leftover liquid in one gulp, he placed the empty glass on the counter. Some showing off of his skills were in order, lest she decided he was not the right man for the job.
"What the public know and what you know, might very well be two different things." He touched the datapad, now on her possession, a couple of times in order to bring forth a writing interface where he scribbled some figures. "I believe that someone capable of such despicable acts belongs in prison or worse, as much as the next guy. For such a task, those are my fees. If you agree to them, then we can begin right away." A professional through and through, he would not even glance at the case files before she agreed to hire him. "And we should start with you telling me everything you know about the case and how exactly it is that you think I can help."
After which, Heron had a good idea on where they should go next.
People still have a lot to say, even after losing the ability to speak.
Katarine Ryiah
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Konrad Heron
Detective Extraordinaire
Konrad could not help but notice the awkwardness with which she operated the datapad. Who, in this day and age, is not comfortable with the tech? Which begged the question...
"I appreciate the kind words," he smiled, "and I know your intentions were good, but... comparing someone to the CSF is not much of a compliment. I had the displeasure of working with some of them and let me tell you, centuries of heavily relying on either politicians, Jedi, or Imperialists, hasn't done them any favors in the get-up-and-take-care-of-your-own-shit department."
He was missing something to appease his oral fixation. At the moment, he did not want to get up and fix himself another drink nor did he felt like lighting another smoke in front of her. With his body facing her, he placed an elbow on the counter top and, bending the arm in an acute angle, rested his head against the closed fist. The posture made their height difference almost negligible, and focusing on what she was about to say would have to do for distraction from his cravings. And distract him it did, by the graphical accuracy of her account, in the least. Much of what she said he had already guessed, but testimony frequently trumps conjecture.
Furthermore, there was this one thing he would have never been able to deduce, no matter how much time he spent staring into her gorgeous green eyes. Katarine Ryiah was her name. She was a veritable Jedi after all, a cult fanatic and not one of those wishy-washy types. Takes a grown-up to know when they are wrong. Konrad reflected and realized he was not at all disappointed by his erroneous assumption, but by the fact that this new tidbit of information ruled out the likelihood for any extracurricular activities, as far as he was aware. A shame, but otherwise nothing that posed as an impediment for them being able to amicably work together.
He got up, walked behind her in order to reach the now almost empty bottle, and refilled both their glasses with the last of its contents. Drinking from his as she pushed the folder towards him, he realized once more the oddity of relying on such archaic data format. Placing his datapad next to it, to heighten the juxtaposition, he went back to the article referencing that Wells individual, and placed the case files out in the open. "Now I'll explain to you the magician's trick," as if those two things side-by-side were somehow part of a mentalist's prediction. Konrad was not trying to impress her anymore, seeing as she had already agreed to his wages. Or at least, he had convinced himself of that. "This right here is some factoid blog that I'm subscribed to. I read it mostly for laughs, but also as a training tool. It's almost entirely about these nutjob conspiracy theories that have no basis whatsoever in reality, like starfighter chemtrails or that bacta tanks gives you autism. But, every so often - and I'm confident unbeknownst even to them - they get some things right.
"It's a great tool because it forces me to continuously and actively distinguish fact from fiction. To never take anything at face value and always use sensible reasoning to reach a conclusion," Heron said while tapping a temple with an index finger. "Just because the people who write this poodoo are pulling the data out of their asses, doesn't mean that it's necessarily wrong. It's like those ancient chronos that tell time in an analog manner," he very poignantly illustrated, "that are correct twice a day. So there you have it, some fever dream about a deep state secret prison somewhere on the Galaxy, from where a bunch of max sec convicts escaped, with that centuries-old cannibal freak supposedly being one of them. Ridiculous, right?" He took out a small pouch from the back pocket of his pants, opened it, and started mixing Carababba tabac with Armudu spice, for rolling a cigarra. "A few seconds ago I would've said yes, certainly to the prison part. It seems absurd! But then you have this ongoing wave of copycat killers everywhere, but not just any copycat, but of serial killers that were alive decades - sometimes even centuries - ago? I'm not saying I bought into the whole prison thing, just that the author caught wind of this increased activity and let their imagination fly with it.
"Then, we have the body of this poor kid washing up in a manner matching that maniac's M.O.? Mere coincidence, right? Sure! Maybe? Until you walked right through those doors, that is!"
Deftly rolling the cigarra with one hand, he popped it into his mouth, proceeding to ignite the tip on the voltaic arc of his lighter.
"So that's where I propose we start, unless you have a better idea? I'll catch up on these along the way," Konrad stated, picking up the documents that Katarine gave him. "Shall we get a move on? Your antigravs or mine?"
Katarine Ryiah
"I appreciate the kind words," he smiled, "and I know your intentions were good, but... comparing someone to the CSF is not much of a compliment. I had the displeasure of working with some of them and let me tell you, centuries of heavily relying on either politicians, Jedi, or Imperialists, hasn't done them any favors in the get-up-and-take-care-of-your-own-shit department."
He was missing something to appease his oral fixation. At the moment, he did not want to get up and fix himself another drink nor did he felt like lighting another smoke in front of her. With his body facing her, he placed an elbow on the counter top and, bending the arm in an acute angle, rested his head against the closed fist. The posture made their height difference almost negligible, and focusing on what she was about to say would have to do for distraction from his cravings. And distract him it did, by the graphical accuracy of her account, in the least. Much of what she said he had already guessed, but testimony frequently trumps conjecture.
Furthermore, there was this one thing he would have never been able to deduce, no matter how much time he spent staring into her gorgeous green eyes. Katarine Ryiah was her name. She was a veritable Jedi after all, a cult fanatic and not one of those wishy-washy types. Takes a grown-up to know when they are wrong. Konrad reflected and realized he was not at all disappointed by his erroneous assumption, but by the fact that this new tidbit of information ruled out the likelihood for any extracurricular activities, as far as he was aware. A shame, but otherwise nothing that posed as an impediment for them being able to amicably work together.
He got up, walked behind her in order to reach the now almost empty bottle, and refilled both their glasses with the last of its contents. Drinking from his as she pushed the folder towards him, he realized once more the oddity of relying on such archaic data format. Placing his datapad next to it, to heighten the juxtaposition, he went back to the article referencing that Wells individual, and placed the case files out in the open. "Now I'll explain to you the magician's trick," as if those two things side-by-side were somehow part of a mentalist's prediction. Konrad was not trying to impress her anymore, seeing as she had already agreed to his wages. Or at least, he had convinced himself of that. "This right here is some factoid blog that I'm subscribed to. I read it mostly for laughs, but also as a training tool. It's almost entirely about these nutjob conspiracy theories that have no basis whatsoever in reality, like starfighter chemtrails or that bacta tanks gives you autism. But, every so often - and I'm confident unbeknownst even to them - they get some things right.
"It's a great tool because it forces me to continuously and actively distinguish fact from fiction. To never take anything at face value and always use sensible reasoning to reach a conclusion," Heron said while tapping a temple with an index finger. "Just because the people who write this poodoo are pulling the data out of their asses, doesn't mean that it's necessarily wrong. It's like those ancient chronos that tell time in an analog manner," he very poignantly illustrated, "that are correct twice a day. So there you have it, some fever dream about a deep state secret prison somewhere on the Galaxy, from where a bunch of max sec convicts escaped, with that centuries-old cannibal freak supposedly being one of them. Ridiculous, right?" He took out a small pouch from the back pocket of his pants, opened it, and started mixing Carababba tabac with Armudu spice, for rolling a cigarra. "A few seconds ago I would've said yes, certainly to the prison part. It seems absurd! But then you have this ongoing wave of copycat killers everywhere, but not just any copycat, but of serial killers that were alive decades - sometimes even centuries - ago? I'm not saying I bought into the whole prison thing, just that the author caught wind of this increased activity and let their imagination fly with it.
"Then, we have the body of this poor kid washing up in a manner matching that maniac's M.O.? Mere coincidence, right? Sure! Maybe? Until you walked right through those doors, that is!"
Deftly rolling the cigarra with one hand, he popped it into his mouth, proceeding to ignite the tip on the voltaic arc of his lighter.
"So that's where I propose we start, unless you have a better idea? I'll catch up on these along the way," Konrad stated, picking up the documents that Katarine gave him. "Shall we get a move on? Your antigravs or mine?"
Katarine Ryiah
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Konrad Heron
Detective Extraordinaire
Before following Katarine outside, Konrad asked her to wait for a bit while he got ready. Having approached the door next to his studio's main staircase, he entered an eight-digit combination on the nearby keypad, and went through the now open door of his armory. He picked up a cortosis vest and shoulder holster, and put them on. Then, Heron gathered some few essential modules and a couple of spare power cells for his blaster, storing them on the appropriate pouches along the straps of his holster, including around the waist, on the belt straps. Finally, also on the waist, on opposite sides, were a couple of straps where he sheathed two stun batons - ironically dubbed, Law and Order. Donning a black vest - buttoned and worn pretty tight over the cortosis, the dark color helping to disguise its bulkiness - he exited the armory. Picking up the brown fedora and trench-coat from the nearby coat rack, he held on to the former with his right hand and draped the latter over a ninety-degree bent left arm. Both pieces of clothing made out of armorweave.
Lastly, retrieving the Arbiter from the coffee table where he had previously placed it, he said with a smile, "Just like I told you before... One can never be too careful in this line of work." Being a Jedi, he knew that the only weapon Kat needed was herself and, most likely, the lightsaber concealed somewhere on her person. Where exactly, he stopped trying to guess at that point, out of common courtesy.
Almost near the turbolift, he remembered it was raining, and went back inside to look for an umbrella.
-
Coronet Bay -- Coronet City
The short drive towards the bay was bumpy, even though all roads leading there and the vehicle's repulsorlift were both in good condition. Konrad had to smoke another cigarra to help with the motion sickness, aggravated by him trying to read the files on the way. Halfway through, he just pretended to do so. Though the most relevant piece of information the PI was now after, he knew he would not find on those papers. He would have to wait for the right moment to pose the question.
It did surprise him when, not only did she take the lead in crossing under the yellow holo tape, but when she actually ducked as if it was made out of solid material - he really wanted to find that moment.
"So, you have no trouble walking in uninvited," the man jested, as he merely stepped through the holographic police band, "unless someone's holding a gun?"
With left hand inside the coat pocket he was now wearing, he moved closer to her, taking care to hold out the umbrella in such a way as to cover them both - doing so effortlessly, thanks to the height difference between the two - as they silently stood examining the humanoid-shaped outline on the ground. As she moved on to study the rest of the scene, Heron stood motionless. He was not about to chaperone her around, but also, there was little merit to that effort. The rain had washed away any evidence, if any were ever to be found. Although, the reason they were there - at least, as far as he was concerned - was not to examine the discovery scene, he felt best to allow her to carry out her ritual to completion. Everyone had their own coping mechanism. His, was to take a sip from the flask inside his trench coat.
"Beats me, love," turning around with a shrug, he answered her question. Pretending not to have heard her preceding remark. "But, if I were to make an educated guess... well, nothing stays vacant for long on this side of town." He walked towards her, until they were both under the cover of the umbrella once more. Looking down at the reason for her stopping there, he continued, "Remember that it was some punks who found the body in the first place, so there's definitely activity to be had here. As for these butts at our feet," he kicked them, "I suppose you might be thinking they have to do with the killer or some other person of interest." He had noticed those, first thing coming in. They were the only thing to take notice of, anyway. Still, he knew they had time to spare and he preferred to examine her process of examination. To get to know her a bit.
"Well, not necessarily. People have a morbid curiosity for druk like this. Either a group of people came to gawk at the scene, after the fact, or one person stood here for a long while doing just that. One thing is certain, though... The rain is washing these down the bay as we speak, so they were left recently. Plus the rain clears away the smoke so we wouldn't have noticed it that way. This, given the sheer amount we see, in my opinion points to a group and not to an individual. If I'm right, that provides a definitive answer to your question and sets our next course of action." To interrogate possible eye witnesses. Not of a crime that was not committed there to begin with, but of all the people that have been there since. "If I know a thing or two about CorSec - and I do! - is that they did not give two shits about going around looking to interrogate anyone. Not 'round these parts, anyway."
Konrad would let her take point, once more.
"And that's why we're here. To conduct an interrogation."
Katarine Ryiah
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Konrad Heron
Detective Extraordinaire
"I'm sure you're well aware, I know less than you in that regard," he answered. Taking a deep breath of that ersatz petrichor in the air, from acid rains that were reacting with petrochemicals, he went on with a reassuring smile. "I'd wager that's irrelevant anyway, since we won't learn anything new from them. And I bet you one of my good bottles, back home, that CorSec didn't bother with their due diligence as well.
"Good things come to those who wait... Or so I've been told."
Handing the umbrella over to her, he had to hunch forward a bit to get beneath it. "Be a dear and hold on to that for a bit, will ya? All this fresh air is clouding my thoughts." Retrieving his tabac pouch, he began rolling another cigarra. "Time is on our side here. Best we can do is wait for them to come to us, instead of having to play on their turf. You see? People 'round these parts don't take too kindly to strangers. You can see that the buildings all look abandoned, so whoever's there are squatters and they don't like us prying around. If we go knocking on doors we might just stir up a bee's nest... Not that we can't handle the heat, it's just that it would send the rest of the pack scurrying away," he mixed his metaphors. Lighting up the smoke, he took the umbrella from her once more, and straightened his back with a wince. "Like I said, the more we linger around here, the more likely for them to come to us. Eventually."
He took a couple of long puffs, slowly exhaling the smoke high into the air and well away from Kat - another advantage to their height difference - taking a long pause in between. His dark eyes focused on those silky jades of hers. "Unless you're cold, that is. Not to sound condescending here, but you can take my coat if you want," although the lower third of it would surely touch the ground. "Or... we can talk for a bit..." This was the moment he had been waiting for.
"Say... I've been watching you. I mean, watching how you handle yourself at common everyday tasks, I mean. The datapad, the papers, the drive, now the holo tape... Your unfamiliarity with these things is not restricted to this planet, is it? Care to tell me about yourself? I mean, if we're to work together and all... Besides, I'm at an unfair disadvantage here. I feel like you know a great deal about me already, since you hired me. My life's an open..." What was the word? "Book! If you wanna ask anything..."
He made an effort to steal his gaze away from those mesmerizing eyes, and glanced at their surroundings. The open space of that concrete beach, the distant durasteel pier, the tall run-down buildings as if huddling over them. The sound of crashing waves counterpointing the rain and thunder. "If you're not up to it, you can simply use that magic power of yours and find us a good place to begin our search." He really had to step up his game. Uncertain of why Katarine was having such an effect on him, despite them having more pressing matters to attend to. "Meant no disrespect," he blurted out.
Why was he still talking?
Katarine Ryiah
"Good things come to those who wait... Or so I've been told."
Handing the umbrella over to her, he had to hunch forward a bit to get beneath it. "Be a dear and hold on to that for a bit, will ya? All this fresh air is clouding my thoughts." Retrieving his tabac pouch, he began rolling another cigarra. "Time is on our side here. Best we can do is wait for them to come to us, instead of having to play on their turf. You see? People 'round these parts don't take too kindly to strangers. You can see that the buildings all look abandoned, so whoever's there are squatters and they don't like us prying around. If we go knocking on doors we might just stir up a bee's nest... Not that we can't handle the heat, it's just that it would send the rest of the pack scurrying away," he mixed his metaphors. Lighting up the smoke, he took the umbrella from her once more, and straightened his back with a wince. "Like I said, the more we linger around here, the more likely for them to come to us. Eventually."
He took a couple of long puffs, slowly exhaling the smoke high into the air and well away from Kat - another advantage to their height difference - taking a long pause in between. His dark eyes focused on those silky jades of hers. "Unless you're cold, that is. Not to sound condescending here, but you can take my coat if you want," although the lower third of it would surely touch the ground. "Or... we can talk for a bit..." This was the moment he had been waiting for.
"Say... I've been watching you. I mean, watching how you handle yourself at common everyday tasks, I mean. The datapad, the papers, the drive, now the holo tape... Your unfamiliarity with these things is not restricted to this planet, is it? Care to tell me about yourself? I mean, if we're to work together and all... Besides, I'm at an unfair disadvantage here. I feel like you know a great deal about me already, since you hired me. My life's an open..." What was the word? "Book! If you wanna ask anything..."
He made an effort to steal his gaze away from those mesmerizing eyes, and glanced at their surroundings. The open space of that concrete beach, the distant durasteel pier, the tall run-down buildings as if huddling over them. The sound of crashing waves counterpointing the rain and thunder. "If you're not up to it, you can simply use that magic power of yours and find us a good place to begin our search." He really had to step up his game. Uncertain of why Katarine was having such an effect on him, despite them having more pressing matters to attend to. "Meant no disrespect," he blurted out.
Why was he still talking?
Katarine Ryiah
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Konrad Heron
Detective Extraordinaire
Konrad merely smirked at her lighthearted remark. Somehow, it made his apprehensions fade away. For people whose entire ethos could accurately be summed up in a few dozen words or so, Jedi were highly unpredictable. And Heron disliked anything he could not predict.
"Well... You don't even need to ramble for that," he softly threw back in reply. His smile not waning.
"Now, that, I didn't see coming," unpredictable indeed, "the fact that you were also captive there." He waited for Katarine to finish before speaking. They were facing opposite directions, with Konrad's eyes focused on the impeding action ahead. "Can't say it changes anything, though. And think of it this way, you didn't age, the world around you did. It's like your very own time traveling capsule that brought you to this moment, here with me... And I, for one, can surely see you as the face of a beauty brand!" He laughed quietly, then his tone changed into a serious murmur, as he gingerly retrieved an item from within his trench coat and palmed it on his left hand. "Trust me on this one, love. Let me do most of the talking but follow my lead. And don't jump the blaster but keep it close, play it cool. Also, I apologize in advance for everything that I'm about to say."
From a dark alleyway between two ruined buildings, a pair of rough-looking individuals stepped into the light. "What do we have here?" one of the two male humans asked, with a self-satisfied grin. He clearly enunciated his words as if parodying a song. "A pair of lovebirds out for a stroll, this late at night?"
"I hear this place is dangerous," the other added, "you never know what sort of hoodlums you might bump into!"
"Hey, doll! You're quite the fox! Why don't you dump that clown over there and come with me? I'll show you a good time!"
"Cut the shit, slick!" Konrad's voice came out confident and stern, but not belligerent in any way. "Do you know who the frak you're talking to?" He produced a CorSec badge from his left hand. It was his old and expired one - not that those thugs would have been able to spot the difference. So he hoped. "We're with the 42nd. You'd do well to wise the fuck up before the boys in white make fire and brimstone rain all over this stinking hole!"
They hesitated and looked at each other for a second. The PI took the opportunity to press them further into submission. "Don't just stand there like a couple of Outer Rim nerfherders! Tell the others to step out, we need to talk about this dank farrik!" he gestured towards the outline on the ground behind him, before pausing to take a puff. After flicking the ashes from the cigarra by holding it between two fingers of the hand holding the badge, he returned it to the corner of his mouth. Moving the left hand towards his hip, nonchalantly putting away the badge inside the left pocket of his pants, he kept it in place. "Well? What are you waiting for? A formal invitation DMed up your asses? All you goons in hiding, come out! I prefer to talk to an audience and I don't like to repeat myself!"
"You have quite the tongue," was said while a vibroknife was being drawn, "maybe I'll just cut it out!"
The hooligan roared as he rushed Konrad, knife in hand. But merely took a couple of striding steps before falling to ground, motionless, the side of his face down on a puddle. The muzzle of Heron's blaster still fuming as he moved it closer to his right hand, that was still holding the umbrella, to turn up a dial on the weapon with it. "Never bring a knife to a gun fight, I always say... The first one was free, that idiot is only stunned," that idiot also never saw it coming, "but the rest will cost ya! So if anyone else wants to step up and try their luck, be my guest!" he announced.
"You say you're pigs, but I don't know who you are. I've never seen you before!"
"Agree, and that's a problem," he holstered the blaster, now set to kill. "I've never seen you before. I don't know what kind of brainless operation Moira's been running since last I was down here, but I'm doubting you're with her, more and more by the second!" A gamble, to be sure. Leadership on the lower strata syndicates changed as often as a Wookiee went through shampoo bottles, but he had to polish the lie.
Seven more gangsters, of various species and genders, stepped out of the shadows, corners, and broken windows of nearby buildings. "The rain does force rats out to the surface, eh?" he sighed with relief. If they bought that there was even a slight possibility of them being corrupt law enforcement, then they would not dare lay a finger on them for fear of ruining a profitable venture for their clan of outlaws. "We need to play this smart and fast, slick. As you know, a body was found. This can turn on our heads so quick we'd still be spinning by the time Central has its paws all over the streets and up on our business. Media rats have already been over the place! It's in both our interests that they don't stick their noses in our... mutually beneficial partnership...
"My partner and I were tasked with the case, so you want to answer all our questions, to the best of your limited ability, so we can shoot something up the ladder to appease our bosses and feed some poodoo to the HoloNet. Keep these streets clean, so to speak... You can start by telling me all you know about the scrumrat that washed up here," it pained him to even keep the ruse of contempt for that poor soul, "and if you've seen someone loiter around these parts after the body was found."
Katarine Ryiah
"Well... You don't even need to ramble for that," he softly threw back in reply. His smile not waning.
"Now, that, I didn't see coming," unpredictable indeed, "the fact that you were also captive there." He waited for Katarine to finish before speaking. They were facing opposite directions, with Konrad's eyes focused on the impeding action ahead. "Can't say it changes anything, though. And think of it this way, you didn't age, the world around you did. It's like your very own time traveling capsule that brought you to this moment, here with me... And I, for one, can surely see you as the face of a beauty brand!" He laughed quietly, then his tone changed into a serious murmur, as he gingerly retrieved an item from within his trench coat and palmed it on his left hand. "Trust me on this one, love. Let me do most of the talking but follow my lead. And don't jump the blaster but keep it close, play it cool. Also, I apologize in advance for everything that I'm about to say."
From a dark alleyway between two ruined buildings, a pair of rough-looking individuals stepped into the light. "What do we have here?" one of the two male humans asked, with a self-satisfied grin. He clearly enunciated his words as if parodying a song. "A pair of lovebirds out for a stroll, this late at night?"
"I hear this place is dangerous," the other added, "you never know what sort of hoodlums you might bump into!"
"Hey, doll! You're quite the fox! Why don't you dump that clown over there and come with me? I'll show you a good time!"
"Cut the shit, slick!" Konrad's voice came out confident and stern, but not belligerent in any way. "Do you know who the frak you're talking to?" He produced a CorSec badge from his left hand. It was his old and expired one - not that those thugs would have been able to spot the difference. So he hoped. "We're with the 42nd. You'd do well to wise the fuck up before the boys in white make fire and brimstone rain all over this stinking hole!"
They hesitated and looked at each other for a second. The PI took the opportunity to press them further into submission. "Don't just stand there like a couple of Outer Rim nerfherders! Tell the others to step out, we need to talk about this dank farrik!" he gestured towards the outline on the ground behind him, before pausing to take a puff. After flicking the ashes from the cigarra by holding it between two fingers of the hand holding the badge, he returned it to the corner of his mouth. Moving the left hand towards his hip, nonchalantly putting away the badge inside the left pocket of his pants, he kept it in place. "Well? What are you waiting for? A formal invitation DMed up your asses? All you goons in hiding, come out! I prefer to talk to an audience and I don't like to repeat myself!"
"You have quite the tongue," was said while a vibroknife was being drawn, "maybe I'll just cut it out!"
The hooligan roared as he rushed Konrad, knife in hand. But merely took a couple of striding steps before falling to ground, motionless, the side of his face down on a puddle. The muzzle of Heron's blaster still fuming as he moved it closer to his right hand, that was still holding the umbrella, to turn up a dial on the weapon with it. "Never bring a knife to a gun fight, I always say... The first one was free, that idiot is only stunned," that idiot also never saw it coming, "but the rest will cost ya! So if anyone else wants to step up and try their luck, be my guest!" he announced.
"You say you're pigs, but I don't know who you are. I've never seen you before!"
"Agree, and that's a problem," he holstered the blaster, now set to kill. "I've never seen you before. I don't know what kind of brainless operation Moira's been running since last I was down here, but I'm doubting you're with her, more and more by the second!" A gamble, to be sure. Leadership on the lower strata syndicates changed as often as a Wookiee went through shampoo bottles, but he had to polish the lie.
Seven more gangsters, of various species and genders, stepped out of the shadows, corners, and broken windows of nearby buildings. "The rain does force rats out to the surface, eh?" he sighed with relief. If they bought that there was even a slight possibility of them being corrupt law enforcement, then they would not dare lay a finger on them for fear of ruining a profitable venture for their clan of outlaws. "We need to play this smart and fast, slick. As you know, a body was found. This can turn on our heads so quick we'd still be spinning by the time Central has its paws all over the streets and up on our business. Media rats have already been over the place! It's in both our interests that they don't stick their noses in our... mutually beneficial partnership...
"My partner and I were tasked with the case, so you want to answer all our questions, to the best of your limited ability, so we can shoot something up the ladder to appease our bosses and feed some poodoo to the HoloNet. Keep these streets clean, so to speak... You can start by telling me all you know about the scrumrat that washed up here," it pained him to even keep the ruse of contempt for that poor soul, "and if you've seen someone loiter around these parts after the body was found."
Katarine Ryiah
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Konrad Heron
Detective Extraordinaire
It was the reason he opted to linger in place and mentioned to her that time was on their side. There was no need to go look for trouble, when trouble finds those that dawdle around those parts. Konrad had seen the two individuals approaching because he was facing them, unlike Katarine. Likewise, he figured there would be more lurking in the shadows, because that was how those thugs operated. He suspected that Katarine was also unaware of that particularity.
So, for her to seemingly be aware of all of them as well - at least, she did not seem to be masking any surprise - was impressive. The local PI deduced that there was ample truth to at least some of the stories he had heard, concerning Force users. That was good, for not only it meant it would be very difficult for the pair to ever be caught off guard, it additionally helped her play the part of the cop who was well aware of and expecting company to arrive. Maybe Konrad should not have took a gamble on her senses or acting skills and just had straight up explained why they were waiting around. But what other way was there for him to measure her savoir faire? - other than being outspoken and just asking her, obviously. Which, would not only not be as fun, but never assured to provide an honest answer.
It was also good to know that she was able to defer to him when asked. Many of those same stories he had heard described how Force users acted as if always knowing what was best and never submitting to the directives of a regular Joe, such as himself. That meant that he could depend on her to let him do the job he was being paid for. Now, all that was left to know was whether he could depend on her to have his back. Something he knew there soon would be plenty of opportunities to help determine that.
"So, dipping on some side action, uh?" he commented. "Wonder what Moira would say if she knew..." Kep was a well-known kingpin who ran drugs out of a nightclub called Nexus, in the Meat Packing District. Of course Konrad was well aware of that and hoped that Katarine would not press them on the matter and thus blow their cover. "Easy now, fellas!! It's fine, don't let it get to you and start something you'll regret! Normally,as long as we'd wet our beaks, you're fine to do whatever and she'd never be the wiser... But you've shit the bed, chums. Because you've also kept it from us and now the consequences of your poor decisions very literally just washed up on your shores." Pretending to be CorSec meant continuing to act like the scughole in charge. Furthermore, if there was a chance that he could scare those punks enough to stop sending poor kids to their doom, he was going to take it.
It was a calculated risk, but a risk nonetheless. For there was a slight chance that... Dank farrik! Heron knew he messed up the moment those scrumrats traded glances with each other. Those fuckers from the 42nd were in on it from the start! He should have known that they always have their greasy hands in as many pies as they can! The two were about to be attacked, and normally he would have given some kind of signal to the other person, letting them know that druk was about to hit the fan. Problem was, Katarine would be unaware of any cue since they never agreed on one, and this was their first time working together. He had no other choice but to both rely on, as well as evaluate, that Jedi heightened awareness that he had heard so much about.
Konrad raised the Arbiter and squezed its trigger. Dead shot as he was, at least one out of eight would hit the ground before the others could gang up on them.
Katarine Ryiah
So, for her to seemingly be aware of all of them as well - at least, she did not seem to be masking any surprise - was impressive. The local PI deduced that there was ample truth to at least some of the stories he had heard, concerning Force users. That was good, for not only it meant it would be very difficult for the pair to ever be caught off guard, it additionally helped her play the part of the cop who was well aware of and expecting company to arrive. Maybe Konrad should not have took a gamble on her senses or acting skills and just had straight up explained why they were waiting around. But what other way was there for him to measure her savoir faire? - other than being outspoken and just asking her, obviously. Which, would not only not be as fun, but never assured to provide an honest answer.
It was also good to know that she was able to defer to him when asked. Many of those same stories he had heard described how Force users acted as if always knowing what was best and never submitting to the directives of a regular Joe, such as himself. That meant that he could depend on her to let him do the job he was being paid for. Now, all that was left to know was whether he could depend on her to have his back. Something he knew there soon would be plenty of opportunities to help determine that.
"So, dipping on some side action, uh?" he commented. "Wonder what Moira would say if she knew..." Kep was a well-known kingpin who ran drugs out of a nightclub called Nexus, in the Meat Packing District. Of course Konrad was well aware of that and hoped that Katarine would not press them on the matter and thus blow their cover. "Easy now, fellas!! It's fine, don't let it get to you and start something you'll regret! Normally,as long as we'd wet our beaks, you're fine to do whatever and she'd never be the wiser... But you've shit the bed, chums. Because you've also kept it from us and now the consequences of your poor decisions very literally just washed up on your shores." Pretending to be CorSec meant continuing to act like the scughole in charge. Furthermore, if there was a chance that he could scare those punks enough to stop sending poor kids to their doom, he was going to take it.
It was a calculated risk, but a risk nonetheless. For there was a slight chance that... Dank farrik! Heron knew he messed up the moment those scrumrats traded glances with each other. Those fuckers from the 42nd were in on it from the start! He should have known that they always have their greasy hands in as many pies as they can! The two were about to be attacked, and normally he would have given some kind of signal to the other person, letting them know that druk was about to hit the fan. Problem was, Katarine would be unaware of any cue since they never agreed on one, and this was their first time working together. He had no other choice but to both rely on, as well as evaluate, that Jedi heightened awareness that he had heard so much about.
Konrad raised the Arbiter and squezed its trigger. Dead shot as he was, at least one out of eight would hit the ground before the others could gang up on them.
Katarine Ryiah
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Konrad Heron
Detective Extraordinaire
-
Good Manners Learned the Hard Way
Heron felt a prickle at the nape of his neck and a shiver ran down his spine. Was someone thinking ill of him, on that precise moment?
The man's hair swirled briefly from the blowback of his blaster's exhaust, but got blown towards his forehead at the spring-action boot firing past him. Konrad stood there, left arm outstretched still holding the blaster, right hand holding back the umbrella. "That's one way of taking care of business..." he said to himself, admiring Kat's prowess. Jumping into the fray like that, meant that all eyes were drawn to her, and the PI did not have to trouble himself with ditching the umbrella and running for cover - he was mostly armored against blaster fire but one should never be too sure of not getting shot in the hands, feet, or head.
This was not for nothing. He had gathered some more interesting intel on her. She preferred to get up close and personal; if she had weapons, she chose not to use them, likely to keep her identity hidden; and, lastly, she was being non-lethal, unlike Konrad's shot to the head - tough break for that guy but the detective was sure he had it coming. All in all, Heron adopted a passive stance watching the fight unfold, almost as if rooting from the sidelines. Not that he was expecting anything else, but that little pixie sure knew how to wreak some serious havoc. He winced though, when she bumped into a light post. Maybe it was about time he stopped gawking and did something.
The Corellian fired a couple of shots from the hip and blasted away the pistols from the hands of a male Devaronian and that mohawked Theelin who had spoken earlier, along with a couple of fingers from each, as they had the barrels of their weapons fixed on Kat. He then made a few oscillating motions with the yet smoking barrel of his own gun, as if gesturing 'no' with a finger. "That's cheating!" The scoundrels turned and ran. Catching a glimpse of Katarine looking back at him, Konrad winked at her. The left corner of his mouth lifting into a wry smile that quickly faded as she was grabbed by the two remaining thugs, one of which was the guttermouthed individual he had stunned, now back on his own two feet.
The PI was already aiming down sights at the fellow's wide forehead but, just in case, since he knew his assistance was not required.
In the end, he would have clapped if not for the fear of it being interpreted as overly sarcastic. Plus, it was hard to do while holding an umbrella in one hand and a pistol in the other, and he did not want to let the rain further mess up his hair. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Not that I was planing to, but I'll be sure never to call you a fox," he threw back at her with a snicker, before addressing the ruffians on the run. "Let them be. They'll get what's coming to them once word gets out of their doings. I'll make sure of that.
"Besides, we got bigger fish to fry. So let's head back to the speeder."
He held back a smile. "I believe the gentlelady has earned the right to take lead and drive once again," she clearly needed the practice, after all. "I'll give you directions along the way."
Katarine Ryiah
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Konrad Heron
Detective Extraordinaire
Does the Force shields you from physical damage? he thought. Heron would surely have ended up with at least a bruise of two if he had went through what she did. Yet, Katarine did not seem fazed in the least.
Jedi must be made of harder stuff.
This time around, Konrad did not even attempt to read through the case files. On the bright side, there were more turns to be made along the way, so that Kat did not have as many opportunities as before to gain speed with the vehicle and repeatedly - somehow - bump it up or down. On the not so bright side, there were more turns to be made along the way...
For the former CorSec cop, catching murderers was a noble pursuit. That this one targeted children, and operated under an utterly abominable M.O., made the pursuit ever more important. So he had to keep his wits about him, and stop letting his thoughts wander towards the petite spark plug sitting next to him, whenever that lilac scent overtook his senses. He believed he was doing a good job in not letting her get to him, or at least in not emphatically showing it. One thing he was sure of, and it was that he had worked with less pleasing and competent partners in the past. This Wells dude's days were numbered.
Upon exiting the - somewhat - parked repulsorlift vehicle, he turned to Kat, eyeing her up and down and then himself, and still taking some more time to study the club's entrance before finally replying to her question. "I'm still thinking about it, boss. You're better dressed for the occasion than I am. I'm sure to stick out like a sore thumb in there, dressed like this.
"I'll leave this up for you to decide."
Katarine Ryiah
Jedi must be made of harder stuff.
-
The Nexus -- Meat Packing District
This time around, Konrad did not even attempt to read through the case files. On the bright side, there were more turns to be made along the way, so that Kat did not have as many opportunities as before to gain speed with the vehicle and repeatedly - somehow - bump it up or down. On the not so bright side, there were more turns to be made along the way...
For the former CorSec cop, catching murderers was a noble pursuit. That this one targeted children, and operated under an utterly abominable M.O., made the pursuit ever more important. So he had to keep his wits about him, and stop letting his thoughts wander towards the petite spark plug sitting next to him, whenever that lilac scent overtook his senses. He believed he was doing a good job in not letting her get to him, or at least in not emphatically showing it. One thing he was sure of, and it was that he had worked with less pleasing and competent partners in the past. This Wells dude's days were numbered.
Upon exiting the - somewhat - parked repulsorlift vehicle, he turned to Kat, eyeing her up and down and then himself, and still taking some more time to study the club's entrance before finally replying to her question. "I'm still thinking about it, boss. You're better dressed for the occasion than I am. I'm sure to stick out like a sore thumb in there, dressed like this.
"I'll leave this up for you to decide."
Katarine Ryiah