Private Judge, Jury and Executioner

[Maeve Linahan]

Whispers had brought Maeve to the Coruscant underworld.

She despised the criminal underground. It was a den of violence, disorder, and arguably one of the ugliest places she'd ever seen in the galaxy—and she had been to a lot of places in the galaxy. She wanted to believe it was just because she'd grown accustomed to the quiet solitude of the Jedi temple, that maybe she had lost her edge. But the matter of the fact was, she just didn't like the smell of ratshit and spice smoke.

There was a reason for enduring this. A good reason. She'd been tasked with infiltrating a trafficking ring rooted deep in the lowest levels of the planet, where most residents had never in their lives tasted an ounce of sunlight. Girls, stolen from their beds. Boys, sold into slavery in the Rim. Maeve had been disgusted by the reports, and she'd resolved to never rest until she found the source of this ring, cornered the men responsible, and politely freed their heads from their shoulders.

Of course, she wouldn't be doing it alone.

Wrapped in a heavy cloak, golden hair tucked behind a cowl, Maeve walked the streets alongside another. A Jedi Knight, a Guardian—Corin Trenor. They'd already dispensed with introductions and pleasantries on the shuttle to Coruscant, and each had received their own briefings about the mission at hand. They spoke little besides. Maeve, after all, had never been much for friendly conversation.

"We're not far from the nightclub," she murmured. "Let's try not to look too out of place."

Corin Trenor​

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[Corin Trenor]

In a heavy cloak of his own, Corin remained buried and hidden beneath the fabrics. His arms fell across him and into the sleeves with a looming hood reaching over the top of him and casting the young Jedi into a shadow of his own making. The likes of these operations were common enough on his homeworld, as horrid as the lot of them were. Corin had known some that had been plucked off the streets, stolen, taken and made to serve someone with deeper pockets than morals.

"Let's be quick about it," he said softly. "I doubt they'll have much of a chance to realise what's going on if we're fast enough."

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"Discreet is the important part here," Maeve replied. "We blend in, find the snake behind this whole operation, and cut off its head. We get caught too early, and chances are they'll slither back to whatever hiding hole they crawled out from."

Now, real chances were, they would get caught. The point was to do it after killing whoever was heading this trafficking ring. Like sheep without a shepherd, she hoped the rest of the syndicate's men would scatter with their upper management dead, but who knew? Maeve might've had to be extra thorough today.

She shouldered past a vendor selling death sticks. Ahead, a looming building stood, bathed in light, the front entrance almost entirely glass, offering a glimpse of the party inside. Two guards stood watch at the doors. It wouldn't be easy getting past them, but she had a general idea on how.

Maeve removed her cowl and approached them, revealing long, golden hair and the imitation of a warm smile. "Hi there, I'm Marta," she said in a sweet voice, at a pitch no one in the Jedi would ever catch her speaking in. "Is this the House of Glass? I've been looking everywhere for it."

Both bouncers exchanged a glance. Above their heads was the name of the nightclub, in bold lettering and bright neon lights: "The House of Glass."

Of course, that had been the point. Asking a ridiculous question. Looking and appearing dumb. Maeve was masquerading as a harmless, stupid Coruscant tourist, and not a Jedi with more knives under her dress than a butcher. She had to at least act innocent.

"Marta, huh?" said the first bouncer, before thumbing over to Corin. "And who's this?"

Corin Trenor​

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[Corin Trenor]

Less than kindly in the face of Maeve's sudden display of feigned innocence, Corin lowered the masking hood that shielded his face. He was undoubtedly a larger man, made from more muscle than sense at times, though the alien bouncers seemed to dwarf the young and often wayward Jedi. With his neck craned upwards to meet them, Corin wore a flat and neutral face. "Kai," the lie slipped through his teeth as easily as running water, with a less than loving face to tell some semblance of the truth. "I'm trying to spend some credits, if you would let me?"

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

The bouncer grunted at Corin's answer. For the briefest moment, Maeve thought it wouldn't take, and she began to reach out through the Force, tempted to trick his mind into letting them pass, but the man nodded once, stepping aside. "Go right ahead," he said, looking Corin's way. "Just be sure to keep your girl on a close leash. It's a big club. Would hate if a pretty thing like that gets lost in the crowd."

Maeve forced a smile. "You're too kind. Thank you, bouncer-sir."

She moved past him and through the curtained doors of the nightclub. Moment she crossed the threshold, her mouth dropped back into her usual grimace, her own irritation obvious. Instantly, she was hit with the sound of music. Loud and blaring, she felt her ear drums pop, and it took her eyes a second to adjust against the bright lights inside, men and women drinking and dancing like the planet's core was about to spontaneously implode.

She cast a look over her shoulder back to Corin, hoping he was still close by. "We should be on the lookout for someone by the name of Hrist. The only description we have to work with is that they're tall, Twi'lek, and probably accompanied by a pair of guards at all times." She surveyed the club from the bar, to the gambling rooms, to the smoking lounges. She'd no idea where to even begin.

"Any ideas on where to start?"

Corin Trenor​

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[Corin Trenor]

He was nearby, ever-looming. "My bet," his lips pursed with the sudden shrug, "not the first floor with this lot."

It hardly took years of Jedi vigilantism on Denon to put those two together. Granted, the role of Jedi watchmen was more of a cover for his own darker impulses that allowed for some crusade on the depths of their underworld. It was a hard road, full of his very worst moments. To walk back down it in these places... less than ideal, but maybe Corin felt there was some point to prove. Hrist could be a shining example of it.

"If he likes his bets, gambling rooms. Maybe a more exclusive one. Set aside for the higher-rollers. Smoking rooms if there's a VIP section for him to feel higher and mightier than the rest."

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"I've heard he's a betting man," Maeve said and nodded to a guarded staircase ahead. "I think the gambling hall is upstairs. There's a table reserved for more exclusive guests. We might be able to find him there."

Maeve cut a path through the dance floor, brushing past wildly flailing men and women, drunk out of their minds. She stopped by a bouncer at the staircase, hoping to work her charm a second time. She smiled, brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, and batted her lashes. "Excuse me, sir, but my friend and I were looking to gamble a few thousand credits we have in store. Figured the best place to wager would be upstairs. Mind letting us through?"

"Depends," said the guard. "Will you give me a kiss in exchange?"

Maeve laughed. "Okay, but only because you asked nicely."

She leaned over and raised her hand to his cheek. For a long moment, it seemed like she would actually answer his request, but deep down, she reached out with the Force, swaying his weak-willed mind. "You will let us through," she ordered. "You will let us through without question."

The man paused, at first confused, but as the weight the Force laid over him, he blinked, then straightened. "I… will let you through without question."

"…you will also punch yourself in the mouth."

"I… will also punch myself in the mouth." The man nodded, and as Maeve walked past him, Corin would watch as the guard curled his hand into a fist before proceeding to hit himself.

Corin Trenor​

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