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A fake ID was expensive. Really expensive. Luckily, Molly knew a guy who knew a guy... who just happened to know this slimy Rodian, but she didn't have to deal with him. Just handed over the credits and that was that. Seemed like a really good deal, until she got it. Turned out, she might've been a little bit robbed. She sat on a ship into Coruscant staring at the complete, utter poodoo that she'd been provided with. An ident that looked like a ten year old had made it. A picture that vaguely might've been her, if it'd been drawn by a drunken Gungan. Best of all were her details, that identified her as a citizen of 'Corelhindria' and born in 562ABY.
She looked good for being several centuries old.
So long as she didn't get checked, she'd be fine. When the shuttle finally pulled into the Coruscant Spaceport, Molly clutched onto awful ID. Should she ditch it and just pretend she'd lost it? Or should she keep it and risk finding an attentive customs agent? If they ran her real ID, would they find a huge MISSING PERSON flashing on there, and deliver her back to her family? Back to gaudy estates, parental fighting and that greatest of horrors: arranged marriage.
Standing in the line out, Molly looked around the port nervously. Trying not to eye up the guards too much. Trying, and failing, to seem inconspicuous. The place wasn't covered in missing person holograms, which was a good start. At any moment, she felt like she could be caught. Security forces rushing to grab her. Private investigators hired by her family. Bounty hunters? She wouldn't put it past them.
How she'd wished that she hadn't left her stolen ship on Corellia.
The customs desk approached and her options narrowed. Was Molly's great escape over before it even really began? This couldn't be it. There had to be a way out. There had to.
As the political capital of the Alliance, the planet was an inescapable economic mecca. Sor-Jan couldn't avoid coming here even if he tried.
And he did try.
Coming to this planet was like visiting a graveyard. As the executive shuttle passed over the Jedi Temple, the tow-headed boy might as well have been staring down at the headstone of a long-dead relative.
In many respects, it was. That and more.
As the deceptively young -- or old, depending on how one's species may view the concept of aging -- executive disembarked, he found himself stepping out into the all-too-familiar confines of the Coruscant spaceport.
How many times had he come here, chasing on the heels of the Thisspasian Jedi that had been his master?
How many more times had he led his own padawan through this spaceport, chasing after rumors of war until they were no longer rumor. And war was all that the Jedi had known from that day forward.
Today, however, there was no lightsaber at his side. He'd stopped carrying it about ten years ago now. Something that had likely been a long time coming. He didn't wear robes, instead he was dressed as casually as one might find a youngling his age. The only exception was the short cape that draped his form. The deep green belied the fact that the boy had once been a Corellian Jedi.
Perhaps he still was, but such distinctions had lost their meaning. The Jedi Order that Sor-Jan had served was a fire that had gone out in the galaxy.
Those who called themselves Jedi today needed no help from him.
And that reality was mutual.
Flanked by a pair of bodyguards and a protocol droid, the boy made his way toward the customs desk.
His identicard stated that he'd been born on Corellia in the year 69 BBY. And he was an Anzat, which meant that scanners didn't work on him. Those two facts always made a trip through customs quite amusing.
Jasper wasn't here on a missing person's case. Far from it. In fact, Jasper wasn't here for anything in general. Well, anything important at least. The spaceport was a weird place to get a meal, but there happened to be an old Duros lady who sold fritters for cheap to those moving in to galactic city. As a resident of Coruscant, Jasper prided himself in being to rate every source of food on the planet, at least so he could suggest the cheapest and highest quality to those who may need it (and also to save the few credits he had to his name).
All things considered, the fritters were pretty damn good, and the old lady had been kind enough to give him a little extra. It seemed that his journey at the spaceport was at an end... but then he noticed something odd. He couldn't describe what any more than simply the force, but it was enough to draw his attention to a teenage girl nearby. Force sensitive perhaps? Jasper turned to a nearby sign that had the wanted poster with her face on it. quickly checking between the two to confirm that his eyes were indeed working before making his way up to the girl.
"Hey there!" Jasper greeted casually with a half wave. "I don't mean to alarm you, but there's a missing person's post with your face on it. I think someone's looking for ya."
This wasn't what he usually did, but Jedi were sworn to ensure the safety of the innocent. If someone was worried about her, he should at least make sure she got home.
| "A good Hunter doesn't always need to be Heartless." |
Samuel had recently had a very hectic handful of jobs. Questionable Employers and standings left much strain on one's psyche. Denon's political landscape, even more so. Denon was a big place, easy to slip away from when one had the means and the will to do so. Coruscant was a big, big place. One could easily find themselves lost in the crowd. The unfortunate truth about such big places, is that it was fraught with all sorts of seedy places and deals. And sometimes, those who find themselves lost within the crowd don't come back. Especially those involved with wealthy ventures, or had families that might've been able to pay quite the hefty sum of credits to see their safe return. He didn't believe a kid of all folk deserved to be victim to such a fate of kidnapping and ransom. And he infinitely regretted his time spent with individuals who would facilitate such horrible deeds. Previously, desperation pushed him to ends he would never even fathom today - but he wondered, if he was under those same circumstances to this day, would he still do it?
In contrast to other individuals, he was here to investigate a certain missing person's report. He wasn't very well-known within the Core Region. To an extent, he didn't want to become known. As a Bounty Hunter, fame can be both a boon, and a horrid curse. In his situation, it often was the latter. He didn't want to take anything big, nor anything that would give him a good deal of notoriety - like taking down some big-shot criminal ring, or some Force Sensitives someone really, really wanted dead. Not that he would really consider the latter in the first place. So, when he heard of a certain Chandrilan Noble Family by the name of 'Drayll,' crying out for someone to return their missing daughter home, he felt like it was right up his alley. Under his Hunter alias of ‘Gorian,’ Samuel would take up the contract. While the offer of credits was appreciated, a modulated voice assured them he would've done this even without the offer - but, told them he would still like the credits, of course, once he was able to promise a safe and certain return. He set off from Chandrila and began his search with what details he could.
To say the least, whoever he was tracking, be it supposed Kidnappers, or merely the daughter herself - they were sloppy when it came to the trail. There wasn't a whole lot of effort to mask it. From place to place he went following this trail. To him, it seemed almost random, like someone didn't quite know what they were doing. Or where to even go. Maybe these kidnappers just didn't really have a plan after the initial kidnapping? Odd, but not unfeasible. He doubted the daughter ran away herself - he saw little reason for someone able to live a life of luxury and comfort would turn it down. While the trail went into a bit of a ‘grey area’ again, he encountered a certain individual peddling fake ID’s, though it took quite a bit of tracking down. Not good, because every moment wasted meant another moment his quarry was escaping.
He didn’t intend to cause too much a ruckus when the Hunter approached the man, with the stereotypical query of: “I’m looking for someone. You’ve sold to some folk recently?” “Well, I mmight know who you’re talking about…for the right price.” Came the conman's reply, giving a wide, coy grin.
The barrel of a hefty-looking sidearm being pressed against his neck was the Hunter's reply, with aforementioned grin wiped clean off the man's face as his gaze was met with the visor of a helmet. Samuel wouldn’t normally opt for such brutal tactics, but this was a kid we were talking about, here. And he had little patience when such things were at stake. “If you’ve any experience with Hunters, you’ll know the price will be your life, and I’ve little time to negotiate. Talk.”
. . .
Leaving the shoddy hole-in-the-wall feeling satisfied with what information he obtained, he had set off for the next shuttle for Coruscant. Not quite hot on the heels of his quarry, but he would be gaining - he was due to arrive at the customs station soon.
The line wasn't moving any quicker. Standing. Shuffling. A few minutes more of waiting while they scanned and checked and co-signed. Why was it so hard to get into Coruscant now? Beyond the customs desk, she'd be fine. There were like, billions of people to get lost in. All lying just beyond the customs desk.
Some kid just strolled right on past the line, flanked by a couple of bulky-looking men and droids. Molly leaned out slightly, staring in dismay. Why the heck did that brat get to cut in front? He didn't look all that rich or anything. He barely looked like he was out of diapers, never mind being old enough to strut his tiny butt through customs. She noticed a couple of the agents by the desk giving him a look too. A few whispers. Seemed to be causing a fuss... which could've been her chance.
"I don't mean to alarm you, but there's a missing person's post with your face on it. I think someone's looking for ya."
Just her luck. Someone trying to stick their nose in. Molly glared for a second, before managing to fix her face. Trying a smile and a brush off, waving it away.
"Seriously, you think?" she asked, pretending to peer over at the poster. She didn't need to check, it was her. Right on down to the spots on her cheek and the slightly skewed smile. "I've never been to Chandrila in my life," she laughed unconvincingly, in her Chandrilan accent. Her eyes flicked nervously from the man to the line, watching it shuffle forwards more and more. Hoping that she wouldn't be caught out.
"I'm just waiting to get onworld, so y'know, if you wouldn't awfully mind keeping your nose outta my business," she said, clutching at her bag like she had somewhere of importance to be. She'd had plenty of practice at being rude and that usually put people off. The smile faded slightly as her attention moved to the customs desk, which seemed to have just stopped with the new arrival.
"Come on. Come on. Ugh. Come on..." she muttered, looking back over her shoulder. The sooner she was down in the city, the better for her. And the less of a huge target she was.
Clearly, from how the customs agent had made the remark, they'd hoped that was the case. Stories of the Anzati had long filled horror holo-vids, or grim fairy tales told to frighten younglings regarding the monsters under the bed.
At the same time, the boy was acutely aware of being scanned. And of the escalating sense of fear in the agent whose gaze alternated between what his eyes told him was in front of him versus what the scanners relayed about what was, or was not, there.
"We're quite real," the Corellian-born vampire remarked flatly. For however much that might be worth.
"You're not registering as..." the agent began, swallowing nervously.
This was ordinarily the point where Sor-Jan would handwave the problem away. Except, even as he started to raise his hand, the agent looked away as he uttered, "I'm going to have to get my supervisor."
The supervisor.
Wonderful. "You do that," the boy remarked dryly, as his arm fell back by his side.
"I've never been to Chandrila in my life."
As he waited, the tow-headed boy turned his head to gaze around the interior of the spaceport. A teenaged-looking girl seemed to anxious over some random encounter with a... cyborg?
A lot of metal on the arm in any case.
Turning his head, the boy just waited patiently for this supervisor to come. And then the confusion would likely start all over again.
Her accent was not very convincing, and telling him to buzz off only heightened his suspicion. The poster indicated that she had been kidnapped, but that clearly wasn't the case. So maybe she was running.
"So I hate to be the one to poke holes in... whatever it is that you're doing," he began, "But facial recognition is a pretty important part of making in through the security checkpoint. I don't know what it is that you're running from, but..."
Was this stupid? Probably, but for all he knew this girl was running away from an abusive home life. He had a responsibility to make sure she got to a safe location.
"As a Jedi Knight, I can invite you in on the terms of a diplomatic visit," he concluded. "Not that I do this often, but contrary to your missing person's report, you don't appear to have been kidnapped, and I do have a sworn duty to protect Galactic Alliance civilians if need be. You'd have to seek asylum with the New Jedi Order for the time being, but I'd rather that then send you to a potentially hostile home environment."
| "A good Hunter doesn't always need to be Heartless." |
It was a boring trip. It only served to give Samuel more time to think amidst the journey, as he would opt to stand rather than sit, his hand holding on a handlebar despite the armor already stabilizing him. It just was for insurance, really. Gaze idly flickered to and fro - he knew the girl he was looking for wasn’t aboard this transport, but paranoid senses would never subside with their sense of ever-present, constant wariness around crowds. It was unfortunate, really, but he doubted he would ever feel like ‘himself’ without that harrying feeling imparted to him by his career thus far. The few times he had, he almost felt like a completely new individual, free of burden and weight. Like it was some unreachable thing, except with the only one who has provided it to him thus far. And besides,
It almost always paid off to be better safe than sorry.
The shuttle pulled into the starport, coming to a halt as doors hissed open from hydraulics. “Welcome to Coruscant. We hope you enjoy your stay.” Came a pleasant female voice over the intercom. His head tilted up, some, momentarily disturbed from his thoughts. That was his stop. With a soft sigh to himself as he tore himself from his reflections, his hand would leave off the shuttle as he followed the line that was funneling into the next destination: Customs.
Now, here he knew there may be a chance to find who he was looking for, and perhaps the kidnapper he supposed would be there, as well. From what he could tell from the scumbag he had to force a tip from, the guy was an absolute con-man, peddling what must’ve been the worst falsified identification cards this part of the galaxy. However…he told him it was just a girl that bought it from him. That left him in some confusion, and answers stretched to accommodate. Perhaps the kidnapper knew someone would be looking for her, and made her do it in his stead? Or perhaps, she really did just run off on her own? No matter. He would find that out for himself soon enough. He would’ve preferred to keep a low profile, but it was a tad difficult with the height and the armor fit for war. Hence, why his armor began to dull and subdue in its color palette, blending in a bit better with the grays and browns that surrounded him, rather than sticking out like a sore thumb - though, if someone spotted him early enough, it would’ve been a bit late for that. Hand went to press upon the side of his helm, and the reference picture he had been given was pulled up on his HUD for convenience's sake and easy comparison. His hidden gaze began to sweep across the crowd, seeing if he could discern whether the girl was here or not in the first place, or if he'd have to see if he could pick up the trail anew. With how recent the tip was, he figured they couldn't have gotten far, but the clustered crowd paired with the fact most folk were facing away made it a tad difficult.
This wasn't getting any better. The conversation was drawing attention. People around Molly were starting to take notice, especially as her clever attempts to brush away suspicion were having the complete opposite effect. Even the little kid who'd marched to the front of the line was looking over now, which made her shiver. If her face was on a poster on the next wall, she was utterly done for.
The other man mentioned facial recognition and Molly's face fell. She looked over to the counter and saw them. The scanners. The console. Everyone checked and logged and signed off. They were going to find out. She was about to walk right on up to them and tell them who she was, without even realising it. A pit opened in her stomach as she realised that her incredible, grand plan to escape was just leading her straight into captivity. Her face fell as all hope drained from her body.
But then, there was hope.
Jedi Knight. Diplomatic Visit. Request asylum.
Her eyes locked on the Jedi's for a few seconds as her mind worked through what to say. She stepped out of the line and grabbed his mechanical arm. It felt weirdly cool to the touch.
"If I get sent back home, I'm going to be married off against my will," she whispered. All flippancy and surliness had dropped from her voice, leaving just quiet desperation. "Please. I don't know who they've sent or what they've planned, but I need to get in there. Please."
Unfortunately, stepping out of the line had drawn more attention. She was stood out from the crowd now, clearer than she intended, almost begging for the Jedi to help her.
Massaging his temple with one hand, the tow-headed boy found the manager on duty little better than the immigration agent that had summoned the supervisor here. "Yes, well, there are many truths to the stories that are told," the former Jedi opined aloud. "And just as many lies in things we accept as truths."
Was that Ki-Adi-Mundi? It sounded Ki-Adi-Mundi-ish.
At this point, the boy had it all laid out on the table. His Galactic Alliance ID -- which would seem to be the only one that they ought to care about -- Corellian Confederation citizenship, but it was his identicard from the Old Republic that seemed to be the focus of attention.
"It's just, I've never had someone nine hundred years old pass through here," the manager stated.
"Not true," the boy countered lightly. "I pass through here regularly. Just last month in fact."
He should have done the Jedi handwave while he could have, the boy realized, inwardly kicking himself.
"Yes, well," the supervisor replied in kind.
"You don't look like you're nine hundred years old," the man remarked finally.
Reaching up with his hand, the boy pinched the bridge of his nose and just resigned himself to the fact that they were going to be stuck on stupid today.
The Hunter’s eyes were keen for the prey he was hunting. Doubly so with the varied systems his armor afforded him. Though, he supposed in this case he was delivering the prey from the real threat. The credits, of course, were also something he was after; but they were ultimately a bonus to that in the grand scheme of things.
And then, the wisp of hair as a diminutive figure made itself apparent to his visor, of which his helmet tilted some so as not to make it obvious. Doubly so, given that his expression was hidden behind it. This visor did the rest of the work for him - magnifying on the individual who so carelessly stepped out of line, and made his job all the more easier as side of her hair and facial structure were a seeming match to the picture that had been registered prior.
There you are.
The next thing of note was the individual she was grabbing. Appealing to, perhaps? Pleading? The magnification did little to clear up exact intentions, and he could not read lips well. Regardless, it seems for the moment he found the proprietor of this whole incident. His hands slipped to his sides with a flex of his fingers. Yet, his mind was cool and tempered; he wouldn’t act now. It was too open, too exposed. Causing a mess like this, Bounty or not, would be certain to attract unwanted attention. So Samuel opted to bide his time for a better moment to strike. Continue to blend with the crowd, and trail them from afar once they absconded. Only then would he make his move.
"I'll get you to safety," Jasper nodded with a reassuring smile. "You have my word."
Political marriage was a sticky subject, but Jasper was pretty clear about his stance on it. It was backwards, pointless, and arguably selfish, even to the point of cruelty. If the girl was force sensitive, perhaps she could make a plea to the order to avoid her marital duties. It was certainly worth a shot.
At the mention of having sent someone, Jasper glanced over his shoulder. Someone was eying them, but only for a moment. An armored individual with a distinct white and red mask. A hunter, perhaps? The individual slipped back into the cover of the crowd. If he was out to claim the girl's bounty, he'd soon find himself butting into the business of the Jedi now, and Jasper wasn't afraid to start a scene. Hopefully, if the hunter was smart, he'd realize that. His awareness now ever so slightly heightened, he turned back to the runaway.
"We'll see if we can't do anything about your situation when we get to the temple," he assured her. "Let's get you through the checkpoint for starters."
All the bravado melted away from Molly as she nodded. Relief flooded her as the Jedi promised to get her to safety. Whatever her family was capable of, they wouldn't mess with a Jed... they wouldn't mess with a bunch of Jedi. Possibly. Perhaps.
She noticed the way he looked over though, like something had caught his eye. She looked over too, just a fraction too late to notice anything. Just a glimmer of some kind of armour. Could've been anyone, but something about it made her stomach tie in knots. Whatever they were looking at, it was bad vibes.
"Yeah, okay. I'm with you," Molly told the Jedi as she nodded towards the checkpoint. It seemed as if the line was finally moving, despite the stoppage at one gate. Something about the kid from earlier trying to say they were hundreds of years old; Molly wasn't paying attention. All she could think about was getting away. Finally, there seemed to be light at the end of the tunnel, even if there was the worrying thought of being followed. Molly moved up to the checkpoint, closing her eyes as she stepped in front and was scanned by Coruscant Security.
As expected, there was a flicker of alarm on the agent's face as the network threw up an alert. Obviously it had recognised her. Obviously she wasn't sneaking through some of the Galaxy's best security. Instead, she just looked up as the agent tried to wave over a manager or three.
"I'm with him!" she said quickly, pointing to the Jedi, "I'm in his custody!" There was a sudden lull in the noise, the collected entrants to Coruscant falling oddly quiet as she announced that. Now she was causing a commotion at the gates, not just the other kid. One of the managers was hovering over the console, ready to contact a security team, when the word custody made him pause. He looked over at the Jedi, brow furrowing.
"Could you tell me more, sir?" he asked, hovering between caution and disbelief.
"Jeez," Jasper remarked with a frown. "You just can't say anything without being suspicious, can you."
Jasper stood at attention now, the slight slouch in his posture fading. With no hesitation, he drew his identification.
"Jasper Kai'el," he informed the manager. "Jedi Knight. My young friend here has come to Coruscant seeking asylum with the order. Consider this a matter of utmost importance. Check what boxes you need to, but you'd be making my life and yours easier if you made this quick. I very much doubt you want my higher-ups involved."
It was a good thing Jasper had gotten much better at speaking. If it was back in his padawan days, he would've floundered and tripped over his words. At least he had some level of development to stand on now. Hopefully the security team would cut them some slack and let them through. The last thing he wanted was to deal with... whoever was out there in the crowd.
