The First Chain is Broken

[Jacob Crawford]

[Music]​

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Location: Outer Rim - Nar Shaddaa​

Post - So I Took a Big Chance | Pre - Close, but no Cigar​

His hearing was deafened. And yet he could still hear the crowd roaring all around him, jeering and shouting.​

His vision was narrow and blurred. And yet he could still see the person before him, standing roughly at the same height.​

His sense of smell was broken, just like his nose. And yet he could still make out the scent of blood, alcohol and smoke.​

His legs were wobbling, incapable of keeping him steady. And yet the Force flowed through him, keeping him conscious.​

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Then within seconds it was gone, and an eight year old Jacob collapsed to the ground. ​

Twenty four years.

It had been over two decades since Jacob had last been on the Smuggler's Moon. Or at least it was from what he could remember. It was his birth planet. Where it had all began for him, and where as a child he had nearly been smothered by his father's sins. Nar Shaddaa had certainly not changed much over the years, still the same towering cesspit of the underworld. Where on every street, around every corner, from the lowest level to the highest, there was crime. The only difference was the higher it got the more it was concealed behind neon lights and bustling casinos.

It was a minefield to navigate the lower levels, to a point that if you weren't careful enough you’d be easily cornered by a pack of would-be thieves or muggers. Even looking at someone the wrong way would get you in trouble down here. Luckily for Jacob though, he was familiar with these streets, even if they had changed since he had last walked them. The same principles were still ingrained into the people here; keep your nose out of their business, and they’ll do the same for you. Something Jacob had learned quite quickly when he had been younger, especially when he was a much easier target. Now though? Well someone would probably be dumb enough to try and jump him, thinking he just another lost soul, stuck in the depths of Nar Shaddaa.

In truth though, Jacob had ensured he was inconspicuous as possible. Opting to keep the hood of his jacket as far as over his head as possible, concealing his face. His hands were bunched up in his pockets and he didn’t stop walking for a second, weaving through the sparse crowds of people. If this had been somewhere else; like say Coruscant, he’d probably be immediately picked out as being suspicious. But here, he was just another part of the downtrodden flock.

As Jacob moved through the streets, he couldn’t help but feel a sense pride that he was no longer part of the filth that littered the ground. Everywhere, no matter which way you turned, there was all manner of lowlifes; beggars, homeless, addicts, drunks, the list went on. And Jacob was here to erase it. After today the last remnants of what he had here would be gone; the name Crawford would no longer be attached to this planet.

Gregory Crawford; his father, was a dead man walking.

 

[Jacob Crawford]

But his father was in fact third on his short list of targets he needed to find on Nar Shaddaa. As much as Jacob wished the man was at the top, finding him was not a simply matter. Nor would it be nearly as satisfying if it were that easy. The Smuggler's Moon was a big place, easy for someone to hide in if that were their intention. Even active members of the Criminal Underground could dissappear with the right contacts and credits. His father was one such man. But money was a drug equal to any of the most popular spices. It was capable of loosening lips that had previously been, prying information out through transaction or with a bit of spilt blood. Jacob had taken such a path when he had first arrived, subtly digging around to see if the Crawford name still had some say on Nar Shaddaa. And to his surprise, it did.

Jacob had been on Maena when he had recieved the message, just a simple 'You're father is alive' and that was it. He had obviously been sceptical about it, but the idea of his father being alive had been on his mind ever since he had been in [member="Irajah Ven"]'s care, and had recieved the initial bout of information. But this latest one had been enough to give the Sith Acolyte the final push to travel back home. Though for the longest time Jacob had thought his father had simply died; perhaps from pissing off a crime lord or perhaps his debt to the Utorg the Hutt had finally caught up with him. Especially considering his bargaining chip; in the form of his own son, had been taken away by the Jedi before he could be sold. But no, instead he had somehow managed to crawl his way out of being a slave himself, and instead entering Utrog's service instead. And slowly over the years grew his own little empire.

That was why Jacob was here, in the underbelly of Nar Shaddaa. He had done his due diligence, spent time up on the Upper Levels hunting down information on a contact within the Hutt's circle of influence. He had eventually learned the identity of Utrog's Majordomo, a Devaronian simply known as Spot. That and the fact the man spent an awful lot of time in the various cantinas down here whenever he had the free time. Which is what led Jacob to his destination, after finally navigating the streets.

He stood before the door, just above it was a neon sign that flickered every now and then. It looked to be on its last leg; a fitting reflection on the population that littered the streets here.

WIth a quick motion to ensure his hood was still firmly over his head, Jacob entered the establishment.