Red, White, and Grey

[Yuya Hajime]

Red, White, and Grey​

Aldera, Alderaan​

[member="Alice Red"] and [member="Daichi"]​

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A soft, gentle breeze wafted through the peaceful and serene atmosphere, tickling the stubble of a man's face and ruffling his hair like a child who'd been gone for far too long. An exotically garbed man stood at the edge of a landing platform, his sandals clashing harshly with the footwear of the businessmen, political clerks, and other average beings around him. Kenshi was the name of the man, and a strange man he was. Clutching the hilt of Ashikaga, he gave the silent companion a loving pat before inhaling the aroma of this new world. It feel good to explore, it felt great to be free. Although this was a bustling city, he could and would experience many things here.

He was sure of it.

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"Hey man, you gonna pay 'er what?"

Kenshi paused for a moment, attempting to numb the voice calling for him from behind. The large man wanted this moment to last just a little longer before he had to succumb to the callings of reality and all of the hate, anger, and greed that it possessed. The warrior-poet exhaled that fresh Alderaanian air, allowing his eyes to linger just a moment longer on the glorious skyscrapers, speeders, and bustling activity on the ground levels almost forty stories below.

"C'mon, I ain't got all day. Either ya pay or 'm gonna have t' call the po-"

The words of the greasy-haired, middle aged man were cut short as Kenshi turned around with his hands outstretched. In his palms sat a single credit chit, just enough to cover the expenses of his little voyage all the way from Voss. He personally didn't have much money at all, but the Order of the Silver Jedi were gracious enough to fund his outings to explore the galaxy.

"I humbly thank you for your services, my host." His deep voice resounded across the platform, no doubt catching the attention of a few passengers who were hurriedly strolling off to their next destination. However, a few of them let their eyes settle upon Kenshi's frame just a little longer when he dropped down to a respectful bow, his hands still outstretched in offering to the pilot. "Please accept my offering, most gracious host. It isn't much, but it is all I can offer."

The pilot froze, probably wondering how such a weirdo got onto his passenger hauler in the first place. Oh well, at least he was getting paid. The fellow slicked his greasy hair to the side of his face before leaning forward to inspect the credit chit in Kenshi's hands. It was enough to cover his costs.

"Uh, thanks." The pilot gingerly took the chit from the warrior's hands. "Have a g'day."

Kenshi rose from his bow after his new acquaintance accepted his payment. The warrior-poet gave the man a smile upon his wishing of good fortune of his day. "May the Force guide you, my brother." And with that, Kenshi bowed curtly and departed, clutching Ashikaga all the while.

There were many, many things to explore in this city. As the man took a lift downwards, he wondered what kind of people he'd meet and where the best place would be to do so. There was what appeared to be a HoloMap attached to the lift, most likely for tourist purposes. Once Kenshi took a look at it, he realized he had no idea what he was doing, especially once an ad for McYoda's popped up, blaring something about Chewbacca Burgers and a shake for 20% off. Sighing, he gave up tampering with the little device.

Instead, he looked for other sources of information. A man dressed in a blue suit seemed like a good place to start. The fellow was in the lift with Kenshi, as well as a family of four with a pair of kids who wouldn't stop whining about going to the local game shop. While asking them where to meet people would present the most wholesome option, he opted for asking the lone man.

"Excuse me, sir," he started, gripping the hilt of his sword before scooting closer to the man, "would you happen to know where one could meet people?" Before the man could even notice the friendly grin on Kenshi's face, his gaze was immediately directed to the weapon seated upon his hip. Cobalt eyes widened just a tad. "Um..what exactly did you have in mind?"

"Anywhere, my good sir. Preferably a location with the most social gatherings."

This guy was obviously perplexed by this newcomer's mannerisms and appearance. He shifted his weight uneasily before pursing his lips in thought. It pleased the swordsman to see someone putting a little thought into his request. "How about the Spacers Quarters? It's a casino, I actually work there as well." Kenshi nodded eagerly, wanting to hear more. The man in the suit noticed this, luckily. "Many people gamble and drink there, but there's lots'a parties and stuff goin' on."

"That whatcha lookin' for?"

The repulsorlift lurched downwards for a final gravitational pull. It was time to depart and go find this new place of excitement and probable encounters. "Where might this establishment be located, sir?" The suited man stepped off the lift with the sandal-wearing traveler in tow. "You're actually pretty close. Go left right here and it'll be about two blocks down."

Before the man could utter another word, Kenshi already had his grip on him. The swordsman's hand was set firmly in the suited man's. "Thank you most dearly, brother." Kenshi presented a broad smile and pumped up and down before releasing.

So many faces, so much friendliness and benevolence.

He liked this place already.

 

[Alice Red]

The Spacers Quarters was renowned planet wide for being a prosperous entertainment sector of Aldera, filled to the brim with a large and diverse assortment of casinos and bars, hotels and restaurants, arcades and clubs, and whatever else the heart of a weary traveler could desire. Electronic billboards present a constant flux of posters and commercials, advertising different establishments and organizations, as well as providing contact information regarding the administration and security force of the sector. The walls of buildings have numerous posters plastered on them, some placed on top of others, while the streets are littered with ripped and crumbled flyers, as the less wealthy try to get their business known as well.

Droids and organics line themselves hand in hand onto the streets, in front of their stores, advertising their products at the top of their lungs in a bid to outshout each other and grab the interest of the men and women hurriedly making their way through the crowded streets, trying their best to sell of their wares. The more aggressive ones go as far as approaching random people tending to their own business, excitedly shouting their slogans, and desperately trying to get the passerby's interested in their wares. Beggars and children line themselves up next to the open-air bars and restaurants, attempting to pick up scraps from clients and employees alike, only to be ran off the property by the owner in the majority of cases.

Around every corner, men of different races and creed look on the crowd of passerby's like a pack of hawks, keeping a lookout for anybody that looks like either a tourist, or drunk enough, to sweet talk into coming with them towards a casino to play a couple of games and ease their mind and purse, or to rob them in a deserted alleyway. As the day goes on, more and more woman of different races, most notably Twi'leks come out of hiding, wearing provocative clothing that barely cover anything and show ample bosom, come out of hiding and begin frequenting the more seedier parts of the sector.

As the familiar sound of the main lift begins resonating in the area, it seems as if time stopped for a few moments in a particular sector of the Spacers Quarters, the only indication to prove otherwise is the downward moving lift. As quick as the silenced kicked in, it left, as vendors and peddlers began screaming at each other and their assistants, attempting to quickly send their own people towards the arrival platform to romp the newly arrived visitors into their own shops instead of the competitors. The men in suits made their move as well, intimidating the more easily influenced competition from leaving the premise, while bickering with those that refused to comply. As soon as the lift came to a halt, the arguing died off in an instant and a smile was etched onto every single persons face.

The family was the first targeted by the vultures, each one screaming over the other about their employers ware and their prices, trying to convince the parents to follow them to their store. "Keep moving." Said the father in a stern voice to his children, as they attempted to make their way through the artificial barricade and ignore them. Those in suits ignored the father and mother, whether or not out of respect for being with their family is known only to them, but they did not show the same kind of mercy to the large, weirdly dressed man, as a pack of three swarmed him with offers of entertainment and drinks.

As the other group decided that they were wasting their time with the family and dispersed, a middle aged woman wearing a rather extravagant dress with a leather jacket on top of it approached the family with a smile with a suited man in tow, quickly handing them a flyer and asking if they had a minute to spare, only to be promptly ignored and the flyer crumpled and thrown away as the family went on it's way. Shrugging, she quickly made her way towards the remaining man at the platform, trying to make herself heard to him through the small commotion and attempting to hand a small, black flyer with what appeared to be a black thunder inscribed on it. "Ah, 'scuse me!" She meekly said, averting her glance downwards before repeating a second time. "'Scuse me, could you spare a minute!"

The men surrounding their target gave her annoyed glances, but didn't try to scram her away as her assistant came into view. Instead, they only raised their voice and did their best to grab his attention, throwing their arm around the mans shoulder and patting him on the back, trying to lead him to wherever they wanted.


[member="Daichi"]
[member="Kenshi Mitsumoto"]

 

[Mirage]

The Capital city was a buzz with activity on every level, in every street, and on every corner. Above the crowds gigantic monolith like buildings kissed the skies above, towering hundreds of stories into the atmosphere. Lanes of traffic peppered the air space, cris-crossing the city with ships of every size shape and color. Despite all the mechanics, the metal, and the majesty of the glittering Adera grid, the sunlight still emptied itself into rays that cut through the urban environment to shine down upon the masses. Reflecting off panels of shimmering durasteel polished to perfection, the glow and warmth of the nearby star radiated it's natural beauty upon the landscape. However, where the was light there existed also shadows. Hundreds of them bleeding through the tapestry of city life, casting shapes and figures over everything. Some shadows were stagnant, marking the course of the world's path around it's central star - while others were moving, silently in measured steps down and each and every street. One such shadow came from an individual that clipped out his pace with leather footfalls of shined black shoes, and the tap of his ubiquitous cane colliding with the permacrete on every other step.

Elias wasn't so often immersing himself with the public, especially in such crowded masses, but the massive scope of the plaza square populace meant that no one would look too hard and too long at the Illusionist. Fame and notoriety normally followed him across the Galaxy, like cosmic groupies that were just waiting for him to step into the sunlight. Except, the visage of Mirage the Magnificent was notable because of the ultra reflective helmet he wore in every stage show. This version of him, the more casual of appearances was less noteworthy. Casual fans wouldn't recognize him, but paparazzi, and avid fans of the holo journals and feeds of his candid exploits would recognize his mild mannered alter-ego. It was a calculated chance, but he'd been in the lime light for a while now, and the fame and prestige had come to be something natural to him - something routine. A pair of stunning green eyes cast over the scene while he kept a healthy heel-toe staccato with cane in tow. Suddenly, his attention was diverted by the tug of his suit pant by a little twi-lek girl and her four friends. A mixed bag of species greeted him, all children, and all looked rather homeless. They mumbled something to him, causing him to pause and stop.

"What's all this about?" He questioned the children, pausing and crouching while he made use of the cane for stability. They were clothes far more casual than his suit pants, vest and crisp white dress shirt. Elias always dressed well, off and on stage. He was a gentlemen, and a performer, and while he had casual clothes, those were not for the public eye. One slip up outside when you didn't look your best, and all subsequent articles featuring your exploits would features that one shot in something less than presentable. He wasn't about to take that chance.

"We're poor sir." One of the children answered, their bright eyes shifted down, looking at the permacrete with shame.

"Do you think you're poor?" Elias asked with a soft tone to his voice, looking at a smudged up face of what seemed to be a human. The boy nodded slowly. Nox rose his fingers to his mustache, pressing thumb to his chin as he thought for a moment, looking at these needy children that had clamored around him. It was the suit that called them in, he had no doubt of that. He looked wealthy, he looked well off, and he certainly was. Though unlike most of the Galaxy, the money hadn't gone to his head enough to make him unaware of the plight of others. Especially that of children. A moment later his fingers clipped the edge of a handkerchief within his vest's breast pocket and pulled it free. The white silk cloth fell into full view as he drew it over his other hand, allowing the cane to rest against his right shoulder. "Let me show you something." He uttered, drawing the children closer. "You're not poor." He stated and then made a small divet in the cloth where his fingers curled around beneath. "You have everything you need right here." Flipping the handkerchief over, a small coin was produced. A single credit clipped between his two fingers.

The children's eyes widened with delight and mystery. Elias loved performing, but he also loved to see the reaction, the honest and amazed look on the faces of those he did these deeds for. Children were the best of all. The wonder and excitement was contagious, and he couldn't help but smile. He dropped the credit into two curled palms of one of the children, receiving a thank you immediately for the token.

"And here." He continued, repeating the same action in reverse, and flipping over the cloth to reveal another credit from seemingly nowhere. It too fell into an outstretched palm. "And here." Elias repeated doing the same action three times in succession for each one of the children, save the last. The cloth was then gently rested into the last child's hands. "And that is for you." He said with a kind smile, the child's confusion evident on his face as Elias patted him on the back. "And these also." He continued drawing his hand up and letting several dozen credits empty from his grasp and into the hands of the children before him. "You are not poor, you are rich in spirit." The children scrambled for the credits showing Elias with thanks as he rose up and gave a nod in their direction, moving to join the rest of the crowd. While the credits were something - any of the children with enough intellect would have noticed the handkerchief left behind had Mirage's stage name emblazoned on it. The token alone sold would provide them with ten times that amount.

Up ahead, the sound of commotion rang out near a turbolift where the dozens of hagglers were barraging new patrons of the city with their goods. It was a madhouse out here some days, and he knew that if he was spotted he'd have to be rather clever to get away from the crowd without too much trouble. It was however the black flyer that was being passed out that had made him pause. The flmsi had drifted on the wind currents and landed just below the end of his cane as he stepped forward. Stooping down to drew it into his fingers, Elias made short work of the message, and then cast his gaze ahead to see who was handing out these invitations.

[member="Kenshi Mitsumoto"] | [member="Alice Red"] | [member="Daichi"]