Private Razor's Edge

[Yula Perl]

//Denon

Where else would we be?​

Drugs were iffy territory.

After a dire meeting with her baby sister, Yula had kicked the spice habit. Seeing Kyra’s eyes glazed over, along with the injuries they’d sustained from a surprise attack, had shaken her. She’d drained her deathsticks down the sink and pitched her credit bags down the vacc tube. She’d look the other way when others partook, but she was done. You could only ignore so many wake-up calls before one sister fell to the Sith and the other fell to an addiction.

Even though she was only a casual user, the withdrawl was no joke. She’d made it through the first few weeks, fight waves of nausea, fever, and the uncomfortable sensation of crawling, prickling skin. Now Yula did was she could to occupy her time, busying her hands with small projects when Darkwire had no work for her. She’d been in her flat, tinkering with an EMP grenade, trying to expand its range when a message notification pinged her datapad to life.

The Razorbacks are moving some glitterstim tonight.

Normally she wouldn’t care.

Same batch that killed a group of kids on Shaddaa. Dunno what they cut it with, but I bet that’s why they got it cheap. If they distribute it…man, I don’t want to be the one cleaning up that mess.

That was how Yula found herself on the roof of a warehouse, as nondescript as could be. The entrances were covered with muscle, so she’d travel by vent. Carefully removing the grate of the exhaust duct, she slipped inside.

Illicit substances were the lifeblood of the underworld, but there was such a thing as going too far.

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Denon.

Where else could you end up tied from chest to toe, on a dusty stool in a dusty warehouse, with the most lustful looking succubus this side of the galaxy color looming over you with a shit-eating grin and a stick of death in her mouth?

Well, let's rewind a bit and find out how our hero has come to this inevitable predicament. Trust me - things aren't as alluring as much as they are nefarious.

Dagon Kaze - padawan of the New Jedi Order with a lot of issues sunken in the depths of his mind and a reluctance to openness. A mule for guilt and grief if you want. He had been on the trail of a crime syndicate responsible for gruesome executions, a gene-altering chemical agent Cell-X and the mysterious symbol of the Krath carved in coins and on dead bodies.

Trail led him to Denon, not too surprising given the world's sus reputation, and specifically to the so-called Razorbacks. Foolishly, he had tried to infiltrate the gang, given he could find no support from the local law enforcement, and failed. How? The Zeltron succubus named Sable. She snuffed him out. Pheromones, natural and artificial, and a young man's natural inclination to...sate. A recipe for disaster.

Maybe if he had listened more to his master, the Warden -- Asmundr Varobalder -- he would've been able to resist. A bit of purity of mind goes a long way. The only silver lining was that all the long, arduous hours of meditating with his mentor had bestowed him with the ability to stay in one place without moving an inch for long hours of time. Otherwise, a meager flinch meant fried flesh. What other ropes would a band of vicious gangsters have in possession? They had standards! Quality assurance!

At least his mouth was allowed to move, "How's your sleep? Knowing all those stacks of children bodies are on you."

"Sleeping like a baby, hun." she scoffed, the emphasis on the word baby made Dagon wince. Fighting crime in the underbelly of Coruscant had shown him all sorts of dregs of society. This one was filling in the gaps. "I wouldn't think about me in your sitch, see--" she gestured nonchalantly behind her, "--we're almost done loadin', and when that's done--" a lighter appeared in her hand and she demonstratively lit it, "--we're leaving nothin' but ash behind us, pretty boy." her hand came to caress his cheek, both seductively and mockingly.

Dagon needed a way out. Asap.

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

Instinct, the Force, and the sound of voices led Yula to the vent overlooking what was about to become a murder scene. It wasn’t hard to find- the first few rooms she’d inspected had all been empty. Without much to absorb the sound, their voices carried far.

Yeesh. This doesn’t look good.

Peering through the bars, she shifted just slightly to get a better look at the hostage. An adult man on the younger side, bound heavily to a chair with a gorgeous succubus leering over him. Oh, three guesses on what lead to this situation. First two don’t count.

The scaffolding beneath Yula creaked, low and loud enough to be noticed through the relative silence of the room. Either age and disuse had taken its toll on the infrastructure of the building, or Yula had misjudged her weight. Either way, the sound had garnered the attention of Sable, who shifted her focus from her captive, following the noise with her eyes up and towards the ceiling.

Yula cringed, feeling the vent rasp and groan louder this time, as if to say 'I can’t do this anymore, you’re on your own'. The thin durasteel alloy shifted beneath her, and the whole thing collapsed, spilling a second Zeltron out onto the duracrete floor.

Falling into a roll, Yula engaged the latest project she’d been working on- an electro-chain whip. Durasteel links connected with strings of burning green plasma lashed out at Sable, aiming to coil tightly around the vixen’s wrist and drag her away from the captive.

“Where did you get those heels!” Yula shrieked.

Criminal scumbags always had the cutest shoes.

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

"Oh"

"no"





"not again.."
​

Another Zeltron.

This one with a whip, instead of ropes.

The missing piece to this...predicament.

Dagon let out a long weary sigh.

What was it with him and Zeltrons lately? Everywhere he seemed to go, he ended up in one way, shape, or form (or pose), with a Zeltron.

The most bitter-sweet of curses.

"Nowhere they'd let you in with that face, hun!"

Ouch.

Even Dagon winced.

The beauty pageant commenced but Sable didn't move an inch, except for her nasty smirk. Right after it her loyal followers of wretched goons and depraved men dropped their crates and opened fire at the new arrival. Cause who the hell just jumps in straight in the hornet's nest with a....whip.

In the commotion that followed, the Jedi shut his eyes and called on the Force sending a powerful push at Sable lifting her off her feet and away into the crowd of hoodlums firing recklessly their guns at the Zeltron with that face.

"...you got any better ideas now?"

"like getting these ropes off me? Maybe?" Dagon yelled out at that face through the cacophony as blaster bolts flew all around him.

He was, literally, a sitting duckling.

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

Yula’s good humor vanished in an instant. Sable’s comment had slammed a proverbial fist unto her hair-trigger temper.

“THE FECK IS WRONG WITH MY FACE??”

Yula’s fantasy of pile driving that wretched hag into a pile of crates would have to wait. Given how close they were to the loading dock, her entrance hadn’t gone unnoticed—armed goons sent a hail of blaster bolts their way.

“Ah shi-“

A downward snap of her wrist and the whip unwound from Sable. Yula rolled to the side, dodged and ducked, deflecting a hail of plasma with a stroke of the whip. Bolts sizzled into small dents against the durasteel links and she grimaced, making mental notes for this field test. Suddenly, Sabel was lifted into the air and sent hurdling back into the rest of her gang. A pile of bodies, a gaggle of limbs and pained groans, would buy them a small amount of time. Her head whipped back, eyeing the bound man with a bemused look.

The odds were pretty good. And boy, were the goods odd.

“Everybody’s a critic, geeze.”

Her wrist crooked upward and the whip surged towards the bound man, tip slicing through the ropes and digging deep enough to perhaps graze his skin.

“Oops.” She jeered mockingly before she could even see the damage. “Now if you’ll excuse me,”

Building the force behind her feet and backside, a wild-eyed Yula launched herself at the hag.

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

"Ouch!" he groaned as the whip glanced his flesh, its plasma like the touch of a hot stove. Nonetheless, the liberation of his hands were welcome. Blood began to seep into his hands naturally and their sensation began to grown stronger. While exhilarating over the newfound freedom from the oddly sensual binds, that face was unto Sable.

Speaking of the latter, she was fuming. Shades of red running over her dark pink skin. Dagon didn't really want any of that, even if most often than not his wants never matched reality. And it wasn't like he was a beggar, he just seemed cursed.

"This' a Voui Luitton! You know how much this top costs?!" Sable bellowed, gesturing at the rip on her expensive clothes. "More than a fucking plastic surgery to fix that mongrel nose of yours!" her hand snapped forward and the gadget on her wrist whirred to life before it sent a strong grav-shock to halt Yula's charge and plant her on her backside.

Meanwhile, Dagon squinted at the events unfolding. He wasn't completely sure why the emphasis on appearances. Maybe a Zeltron thing? They both looked good, well not Sable - that sadistic schutta could get it.

Why am I even lingering over this?

Brain, work.

The Jedi hurried after to follow, although a bit late. The whip wielding Zeltron was on the ground and the Razorbacks were on the run. Dagon reached for the Force to close the gate down but their large truck was well on its way leaving behind dirty fumes and nastier laughs.

"C'mon, get up." Dagon offered a hand to the Zeltron, she was smoldering hot. From fury, that is. "We've gotta catch them or we'll be picking up teen corpses from the streets." he wasn't sure when he had decided she was his ally, but his modus operandi surprised him as much as it did others. "Also, I don't think there's anything wrong with your face." ah, yes, dry humor in the worst possible of times. Straight from that same MO.

In their hurry, the Razorbacks had left behind one really fancy looking speeder. A space lambo.

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

Yula’s death charge came to an abrupt halt as she lost her footing. The grav shock hit her with enough force to take her balance, resulting in an ungracefully sprawled Yula on the ground.

“Urgh, even chisel-face here can tell that’s a cheap-ass-knockoff!” Taking the offered hand, Yula scrambled hastily to her feet while gesturing wildly to Dagon, the whip in her other hand flying with reckless abandon.

A few sobering words brought her back to the task at hand. “You know about that?” The surprise in her eyes faded as she imagined the situation that had lead him to be bound to a chair in an old warehouse. The urgency of the situation led her eyes to what he’d already noticed- the top notch speeder. “Maybe we should start selling spice.” She mused, lifting herself over the edge of the door and into the driver’s seat when the comment on her face came out. Yula scoffed.

“What a charmer.”

She was going to rip the shoes from that queen’s feet tonight.

The second Dagon’s behind hit the seat, Yula hit the thruster. From 0 to 80 and a case of whiplash, they sped after their target through the Denon undercity. “I can’t get any closer. That thing must be illegally modified!” She snarled in frustration as if she didn’t routinely do the exact same thing. Yula jerked the yoke haphazardly, narrowly avoiding civilian speeders as they weaved in and out of traffic.

“I’m going to try something; hold on!” Calling over the wind and chorus of horns, Yula pressed one palm to the control panel of the craft and fed the force into it. The speeder shifted, shuddering for a moment as if it would simply collapse—then surged forward, much faster than it had been before.

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Chisel-face?

A new one on the list. A list that's been growing ever since he hit his late teenage years and realized a lot of the eyes on him were due to reasons different than his affiliation as a Jedi. Sometimes it had its benefits, other times - well, bound and stuck on a chair in an abandoned warehouse. A double-edged sword.

“What a charmer.”

"I don't even need to try." he casually shrugged with his signature lopsided smirk rising on his face. Then it disappeared when she jumped on the pedal. Who the hell left behind this beast of a speeder? Neon lights flashed by the corner of their visions as they popped into the busy streets of Denon. Every sharp jerk of the yoke and Dagon felt like his lunch was crying to escape. And still, the damn truck was uncatchable.

"Who taught you how to--"

“I’m going to try something; hold on!”

He saw her press her palm on the panel of the speeder and the Force flared. The padawan's eyes widened in surprise, "Jed--"

His words trailed off somewhere behind, approximately a mile away, as the speeder went into overdrive. The pull at his back felt like he was being stretched into lightspeed and the truck was suddenly at arm's reach. Dagon pushed his feet up, the weight of speed meet mass, the violent rush of wind, all working hard to put him back down on his ass. He prevailed. Somehow. Managed to grab at a sidebar of the truck's back and now it's 'look, ma, one hand!' as Hyllyard Street rushed under him at eighty miles per hour.

Close.

"Keep it steady, that face!" the padawan yelled back at the Zeltron through the cacophony of engines and horns. The doors of the truck's tailgate slammed open crushing his fingers at the hinges; a loud curse escaped his lips, but he held on. Again, somehow. Goons peaked out with guns brandished and gung-ho trigger fingers. Blaster fire rained on their parade just as Dagon managed to get his other hand on the roof of the truck and climb up evading it. He immediately dropped flat just a millisecond away from being murdered by a low-hanging bridge. His heart skipping a hundred beats.

Too close.

The raven-haired Jedi crawled towards the front of the truck and strained to reach for his lightsaber hidden in the inside of his jacket. The touch of the durasteel hilt let a sigh of relief break free; he'd almost thought he'd lost it in the chase. Then Dagon planted it with its emitter facing down and clicked the activator. The blue blade came to life right inside the truck's cockpit and for what it's worth, the pilot panicked. And they were no longer going eighty miles an hour over Hyllyard Street.

The truck rammed right into the space lambo, diverting both into the nearby flood drain canal. Repulsors dying at the first impact with the steel railing and leaving both vehicles skidding fast on the steel pavement of the drain canal. Sparks flying, breathing cut short and eyes going wild, Dagon held for dear life until the truck and lambo stopped to a halt and he was flung flying and tumbling down the hard ground made of metal. A lot of things that shouldn't crack - cracked.

He lied two dozen feet away from the collision's endpoint, clenching his teeth in pain. The truck had tripped over on its side, a trail of goon bodies and spice boxes in the crash's wake. There was no discernible movement at all and Dagon nearly relinquished hold of his conscious. Cause why not take a forced nap when the job's done?

Because the job's never done.

The door of the truck's passenger's seat was blasted open with a powerful kick and the prima donna of spice hopped out. Her purple skin had turned red and steam escaped her nostrils. She'd been badly wounded but fury had kept her intact. Fury that she wanted to deliver upon that face. Police sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder with each passing moment. But Sable sure took her sweet time as she reached, almost teasingly, for the verpine shatter pistol in her holster and drew nearer to Dagon's unexpected partner. She was saying something to the other Zeltron but Dagon couldn't make out the words. Probably something about her expensive clothes and the other's inferior appearance. Probably.

Dagon was already staggering back on his feet, yet too slow. His face turned pale. The trigger was pulled and held, a barrage of bullets rang through the air.

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

Speeder chases always looked easier in the holos.

Keeping the lambo from simply exploding was hard enough, but controlling the vehicle while it was going faster than it was built to was exceedingly difficult. Yula was used to either light, nimble speederbikes, or slow, lumbering crafts. Both took a certain set of skills to pilot efficiently. The space lambo was neither, and right now she was forcing it to be more than it was.

“Whatever you’re doing,” She yelled to Chisel-Face over the rush of wind and blaring of horns. “Do it faster!”

Apparently he’d heard her, because the next thing she knew, the truck had rammed into the lambo and she’d lost complete control. Both vehicles skidded into the canal, and Yula was knocked out cold.

She regained consciousness a few second later, the world sounding incredibly far away and a headache splitting her skull from jaw to crown. Then she saw her, the Zeltron queen looming above Yula with a black eye and a nasty snear.

“Oh darling, you look positively exhausted. Not enough concealer in the galaxy can help you.” Sable traced underneath both of her eyes mockingly, as if to highlight Yula’s worse appearance. “Don’t worry dear, I’ll put you out of your misery. It’s about time someone did, given you’ve never learned to apply eyeliner properly and with the way you’ve been going, you never will.”

Her words reached Yula muffled, but the snotty tone was enough to rouse her adrenaline. Yula struggled, unable to free herself from the wreckage that had her pinned at the legs. Sable laughed cruelly, raising her blaster and pulling the trigger.

The muzzle of the pistol registered in Yula’s mind for a split second, and she reacted. Thrusting a hand forward, an invisible barrier deflected the tiny pellets, two of them hitting Sable in the arm. She squealed in pain and dropped her gun. Incensed, Yula twisted herself free of the rubble, shearing off nearly the entire leg of her pants in the process, and tackled Sable to the ground.

She cracked Sable in the face with her fist, relishing the cathartic feeling of her knuckles shattering the other woman’s perfect nose.

Then again. And again.

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

The cop sirens grew in volume, their lights already illuminating the glassed skyscrapers lining the boulevard above. Dagon's stagger hastened as much as pain allowed towards the sound of gunfire which had ceased. The sight that greeted him was not what he had expected.

"No..." his voice was soundless. He cleared his throat and lunged to yank that face off Sable. Her knuckles were drowned in blood, the latter's face had been bloodied to a point it had lost all of its alluring features. She had put a lot of work in to make her look like that, a lot of fury. "Enough, enough, ENOUGH! The cops, we need to--" Dagon opted for his strength; his arms came around her into a tight hug and lifted her up and away from Sable.

If she fought back, Dagon would grasp her tighter and hurry away into one of the side tunnels. One of those that only found use during flooding and otherwise remained dry, unused. He let her go, or she finally escaped his embrace when they had reached the safety of the tunnel. Away from the cops.

"Took that really personal, huh? You okay?"

Yula Perl

​

 

[Yula Perl]

Yula’s fists were slick with blood, each punch sounding almost wet whenever they’d made contact with Sable’s face. There were no more bones left to crack.

Dagon’s voice didn’t reach her, so the man himself had to drag the manic Zeltron away as she swiped futilely at the air. Once they were away from the vicinity of Sable and the wreckage—which was somehow both waterlogged and on fire at the same time—did she calm down.

“Yea.” She answered curtly, wiping the blood from her nose with what remained of her sleeve. Truth be told, jealousy had sparked her ire for Sable, but smashing her face to bits came from a place of self-preservation. The same place where there was a gun held to your head and the side panel of a lambo pinning you down. A place of fear, because if she had been a split second too slow, she’d be the one laying on the pavement bleeding out right now.

Yula crouched low, tried to flex her hands, and grimaced. Her knuckles were cracked, fingers trembling. Her bruised face was awash with red and blue, glowing in the alternating light from the police speeders. Fortunately, they were far enough out of sight when she turned to Dagon. “You okay? Aside from the STD she gave you, I imagine.”

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Dagon was bruised, the pain of being flung off a speedy ride pulsated all over his body; tumbling down the canal like a ragdoll left no bone 'unchecked'. She was worse though, he concluded as he scanned her from head to toe. Concern faintly contorted his features until her response took him back.

"Never got the whole deal to get the bonus." he scoffed with a slight shrug. The Zeltron's humor given the situation amused him, he welcomed it. "But the job's done so I'm not complaining."

Many questions began to rise in his mind, especially her use of the Force but that wasn't the priority right now. "You need some patching up." he jerked at her knuckles specifically - they were left behind on Sable's face. Then he shook his head, realizing neither knew the name of the other, "I'm Dag Kaze, by the way. You got a name I can thank for pulling me outta there?"

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

Yula chuckled into a grimace. Moving hurt. He was right about her hands though—she literally couldn’t wave the thought of needing help away.

“ ‘M Yula.” She paused to clear her throat. “Perl.” Something about Kaze sounded familiar, but not alarming. Could have been just another name that drifted to her from the galaxy. Which wasn’t too far fetched, now that she thought about it, considering that he was…

“…you a Jedi? Or…I mean.” She gestured to his getup, which was very much not the robes she was used to seeing. She could’ve passed him by on the street earlier and not given him a second glance. He blended in with the undercity. “I know…not everyone is.”

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

They were already walking, or rather staggering away from the scene; leaving Sable to the cops was probably for the best. Getting patched up came first and—

“Perl?!” he exclaimed accidentally, cold sweat breaking on his brow; then sheepishly chuckled trying to cover up his stupid surprise, “Yeah, I’m a Jedi. Of the NJO.”


“I know, the clothes don’t really speak Jedi, we get that a lot.”

The further he could drift the topic away from the sudden revelation of her identity, the better.

Danger sense prickled at the back of his neck. Almost as if his brother’s vengeful eyes were watching him. Paranoia.

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

The surprise over her name had caught her off guard at first. But, it made sense. One sister on trial for killing a senator, the other cutting her own path through the galaxy. And a mother whose name still echoed in certain parts of the galaxy.

“Yeah. I get that sometimes.” Pain forced her grin to be lopsided, and she shrugged, unconcerned over where he’d heard her family name. Probably for the best.

“Really? NJO, huh.” It took her a few long moments to recount the Jedi she’d come across that had the same affiliation. Her cousin, for one. And then there was Aaran. Was Ripley affiliated with them? It had been a while since she’d seen the other Zeltron, and couldn’t pin down the memory of her connections.

“You know Zaavik? He’s my cousin.” The further they traveled into the tunnel, the more the flashing lights from the cop cars dimmed. A surge of anxiety pricked the air. “Hey, you okay? I don’t think they’re gonna come after us. Not with the mess we left ‘em to clean up.”

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Crisis averted..

"I'm fine." Dagon lied, the crash had been more brutal than he had initially believed. More than just a cracked rib or two. Feth. "But I can't go back to my ship. Not yet, at least - street cams probably got my face all over the place so I'm gonna need to lay low for a bit." he said then raised an eyebrow at the surprising mention of Zaavik. "Zaavik's your cousin? Yeah, I know him." the Zeltron had been part of the few, along with Dagon, that had followed Ryv against the Sith. Part of the few that carried the burden of war and the scrutiny of other Jedi and the galaxy. "You heard anything of him lately? He's been...missing."

The padawan knew the Perls were a big family.

He just didn't expect it to be whole planetary populace big.

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

“You sure?” She didn’t believe him. “Because you look like chit.”

To be fair, they both did.

Not as bad as Sable, at least.

“For the best.” She agreed. Laying low was a good idea. “I know a place. Not far from here I think; we can rest for the night.” A shadowrunner safe house beneath a mom ‘n pop droid repair shop, owned by a couple that were sympathetic to their cause.

She eyed him with concern behind the swelling of her face. “No. I haven’t seen him since…” Since they hit AvCorp. “In a while.” Yula tried to shrug off her concern, but it still latched onto her mind. “Zaav likes to run off now and then, doing what needs to be done. We’re both like that, I guess.”

They were coming up on the end of the tunnel that spilled onto a commercial area. “I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s tough.”

They stepped onto the street, quiet enough for the night. Most of the businesses had shut down, with the exception of the local cantina. Brightly lit, it carried muffled conversation through the night air. Yula closed her eyes, the cool breeze serving as a temporary balm for her more superficial wounds. Then it stung.

“How’d you end up on Denon with that honeypot? I thought you NJO folks were out fighting the good fight against the Sith.”

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

That did sound like the Zaavik he knew and frankly - he did seem similar to Yula come to think of it. Not really appearance-wise but if there was someone in the galaxy that handles nasty business with a lightwhip it'd probably be Zaavik. He was eccentric, maybe more than Ryv. Maybe.

Dagon just hoped his friend was well. Wherever the hell he was and whatever he'd gotten himself into. There were already too many dead comrades to mourn.

"STD first, now honeypot? Stick to one! I keep getting mixed up if I should be happy or regretting missing that bullet." he grinned. Stealing a glance at her, he caught her eyes squinting close. The cool wind had picked up. He took off his jacket and set it on Yula's shoulders. "But yeah, we are." his voice drowned under a faint tone of sorrow, "I've just been following up on a lead from Coruscant. Got here, tried to infiltrate the Razorbacks...and the rest is history."

"What got you here? Unless you, well, live here."

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

“Oof, don’t make me laugh!” She held her ribs after a short chuckle, good humor still lingering on her face through the pain. “I think you caught a bullet, no matter which way you slice it. Just hope whatever lead up to it was worth it.” Unless being tired up in a warehouse was his fetish. Which, by all accounts, it could have been.

A sudden weight settled on her shoulders, and she blinked in confusion first at the jacket, then at him. The night was cold, the jacket was warm, and they were almost to the safe house. Yula was positive that she was getting blood on it. Well, more blood.

“Thanks.”

A lead from Coruscant into Denon, huh. “So you heard about the shoddy glitterstim.”

Glitterstim reminded her of why she was here, and why she took on the task. Poison drugs were bad. The focused adrenaline she’d mustered in the warehouse and during the car chase waned suddenly, giving way to shaky hands, a reminder of her own trouble with spice.

“I work here. I’m a mechanic.” Which wasn’t a lie. Ever since the First Order encroached on Terminus, Yula had drawn closer to the core. Closer to her family. “I’m not opposed to the odd job.”

Clutching the jacket tighter, she led them down an alley, to the back of a nondescript building. Three knocks, and an elderly man appeared. He sized them up for a moment, analyzing the Zeltron’s face, before wordlessly leading them up a winding flight of narrow stairs.

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

An odd and unexpected warmth rolled across his chest upon hearing her laugh. It was refreshing, revitalizing. Escape from the doom and gloom that seemed to be all too prevalent lately.. or was it just that tricky Zeltron empathy. Who knows and who cares - it was pleasant, despite its nascence.

"Glitterstim and some more." Dagon added but strayed away from the details. The case was complicated; a lot of leads, a lot of dead ends, and a lot of assumptions. Murder, smuggling, production of the illegal cell-X chem agent. His head was already slumping from exhaustion and aches. Maybe tomorrow he'd tell her more or later if she suffered from sleepless nights.

He didn't notice the shake of her hands, the subconscious presumption that it was due to the cold breeze caressing their raven hairs. She led him down a side alley, the typical ones - a couple of misplaced trash containers full up to the brim, puddles of rain and sewer water, some animal shifting through cracks in the walls of the building. Dagon remained silent until they had entered the safehouse and had heard the elderly 'housekeeper' ascend up the stairs and away.

"A mechanic.. trained in the Force?" the Jedi then gestured around, the smirk growing back on his tired face, "...with a safe house to lay low?"

One spartan bed, probably on the brink of expiry, an overused desk, a kitchenette that was nothing more than a glorified space microwave and a bathroom that he assumed could fit a person and a half.

There was no fooling him. The safehouse slightly reminded him of his own in the underbellies of Coruscant - the difference was that his own was far more spacious but with the equal amount of furniture, his looked empty; Yula's looked...actually cozy. He lately had been spending most of his time living in these lower-level safehouses due to the timeframe of investigations. It was pointless to go up and down from the Temple to the bowels. Cases took days, weeks, some months, and others.. cold cases.

"Fighting stim dealers at night?"

Yula Perl