He Who Wanders In The Shadow Of The Dead

[Nicholas Covosi]

It was a dark night on Coruscant, not that any could see it given the constant bombardment of neon- none save for Nicholas. He didn't see the neon or the people, nor listen to the bombardment of advertisements and solicitations; all he could see, hear and feel was the looming darkness. He could not be blamed for this, however, as the world that he knew recently came to an abrupt and violent end. The streets were crowded with purveyors of vices. One could find anything they wanted down here, in the lower levels (Level 837). Yet Nicholas did not know what he wanted. Or rather, he did, but he did not know how to attain it.

He wanted an escape.

Hours before, he was in Corusec's offices. He hardly remembered what they said, as the deafening tone of his world being destroyed clouded his mind- not unlike one who found out that they had a terminal illness. He only remembered fragments.

"I am truly sorry." But they weren't. He was just one of thousands, no, millions, who received the same news a day- the officers were dead to feelings of remorse due to this.

"It couldn't have been helped." It could have, had he not chosen to spend hours with Eron, seeking the perfect gift for her.

"There are no concrete leads." There are never concrete leads until a lead is pursued. But they didn't deem it worthy of their time.

"Try to move on...don't do anything rash." That was his breaking point. This he could remember clearly. The image of her hand hanging lifelessly from the gurney awoke something within him. His body and mind were overcome by something feral. His hand trembled, and when he spoke his voice cracked.

"Anything rash?" He said. "You and your 'protectors' stand idly while someone murdered my wife and walked away!"

With that proclamation, Nicholas grabbed the desk, which was bolted down; he had lost control, and the force acted with him, allowing him to rip it from the ground, and slam into the adjacent wall with utter ease. Then it all went black. When he came to, he found himself bound and in a cell. After what felt like an eternity of stewing in his juices, an officer came to him. They would not press charges, and restrained him for his own well being. This time, as tired as he was, he allowed the all too common monologue of coping with grief fall upon deaf ears. He simply sat, staring at the floor until he was permitted to leave.

Now he was here- in the underbelly of the galaxy's heart. He roamed, unaware of his surroundings. He was lost in thought. He needed a lead- any lead. He needed to avenge this crime. The irony was there were few as good as him when it came to tracking and whoever killed Aurora would come to learn that...the hard way.

"Your death will not go unanswered, my love."

With that, he made his way to one of his informants- Riku. Riku worked at the Fog, a seedy bar with seedier patrons; a bar where one heard all manner of things. Riku was his best bet- not only did she work with Nick on a regular basis, but she knew Aurora, and was friends with her. If anyone could help him, it was her.

 

[Nicholas Covosi]

Nicholas made his way through the labrinthe of alleyways until he reached his destination. Nestled between a slum-lord's apartment complex and a lowly mechanic shop, the Fog was far from the main promenade and rarely frequented by those that did not know of its existence. It did not have a sign, nor any visible indicators of its presence, as it was more of a speak easy than a cantina. Nick rapped upon the door, prompting a small droid eye to emerge. It glanced him from head to toe before returning into its hidden recess. Then the door slid open, granting him entry.

The Fog had earned its name. As Nick crossed the threshhold, he was bombarded immediately with a thick cloud of vapor. He pushed through it, making his way to the bar, where it settled closer to the ground. As a gathering place for smugglers, mercenaries, and criminals alike, the atmosphere was appropriate. Riku was cleaning a mug as he entered, not so much as giving him a glance. All who were permitted to enter were welcome.

Riku was the owner, bartender, and server at this small hole in the wall. She was easy on the eyes; tall for human, standing at 6'2, she had a thin waist, wide hips and an ample bussom, only further complemented by her attire which often clung to her body as a second skin- further embellishing her features. With that being said, she was easily comparable to a diamond; she was easy on the eyes, but hard at her core.

Nick took a seat at the bar, giving the counter a wrap with his knuckle. Riku looked up at him with an irritated glance, though it soon melted when she saw who it was. A smile graced her lips as she made her way over. Nick did his best to guard his emotions- he was not there to share his grief.

"Nick! What brings you to my humble establishment? Are you here for business?" She leaned over the counter.

"No. Get me a drink...something strong...preferably from Kashyyk. And not the watered down version."

At that moment, Riku paused, and stared at Nick. He knew the stare; she was assessing him. He had never asked for alcohol. Not once. He only ever ventured here for information. That was when she saw through his facade. Yet working as long in the business as Riku had, she knew not to press. Instead, she turned and made her way to the back of the bar, procuring something from a cubby. She returned with a bottle and two glasses.

"Got some prime Kashyyk Fire Whiskey here, from my personal stash."

She poured his glass first, and before she poured her own he knocked it back, then brought his glass back to the counter with an audible clink. His nostrils flared as his esophagus burned- calling it Fire Whiskey wasn't a marketing ploy. He felt his cheeks go red as he let out a slow exhale. That gave Rikku pause. She poured her own glass and refilled his. He repeated his motion. This time she didn't refill him. Unlike him, she treated this whiskey with respect, and sipped it lightly- though given her experience, she showed no visible discomfort.

"What's eating you?" She asked.

Nick ignored the question, looking down at the bar. He let a sigh escape his lips before bringing his obsidian eyes up to hers- unlike most of her patrons who stopped at her 'assets'. Riku was no mind reader but she knew something was wrong.

"Have you heard of any jobs that went down in sector J-27? Jobs that went wrong?"

It didn't ring any bells for her- but it did make her heart stop for a moment, though her impenitrable gave nothing away. She knew that sector, because that was where Nick lived; unbeknownst to Nick, Rikku kept tabs on all her patrons, incase they had caused her any problems. She chose her words wisely.

"No, not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?"

Nick looked down at his glass, then back at her. She watched his eyes for a moment. He did not blink or flinch, but there was something different about them. They seemed hollow, nearly lifeless. He didn't have to say anything. She knew. That was when her pokerface fell, and she felt a pang of remorse and loss. She poured him another, unsure of what to say. He didn't speak, and she didn't. He pulled the glass to his lips, slamming it back as if it was common swill- but now she knew why.