Urban Decay

[Joza Perl]

Zipping across the galaxy could (understandably) make one tired. Couple that with a back to back business deal on Coruscant, some charity work on Lianna and a quick stop on Zeltros to ensure that her legacy was healthy and fed and well…the fatigue could make one grouchy.

An issue had popped up at one of her cantinas on Zonju V, deep into the Outer Rim guarded by the Coalition whom she worked closely with on a regular basis. All of the primping and polishing for a lifetime couldn’t strip away her rebellious streak and she couldn’t be too bothered to hide it either. It was no secret that Joza was involved with the scoundrels and salvagers of the Outer Rim but it wasn’t a heavily advertised fact—nor was she considered to be a particularly bold threat to anyone outside of the entertainment sphere.

When she’d caught wind of [member="Bryce Bantam"] offering amnesty to an injured Force warrior of the First Order, the Zeltron had nearly smacked herself in the face, mechanical palm to forehead. Thankfully she’d stopped before giving herself a concussion, finished the bedtime story and kissed her toddler son on the forehead before tucking him in and departing for the old Outback space. The illegal dinko fighting ring in basement of The Aurodia would have to wait another day or so as she made a pit stop of Kal’Shebbol to ensure that the evil First Order person had not sown destruction to the entire system.

Surprise surprise when Kal’Shebbol was still intact and moving along with daily life uninterrupted. After insisting that a perpetually unamused Ivan stay on the ship—you’d better not take half a day like last time—she signed herself into the medical facility where Bantam’s ward was staying. He’d supposedly saved her from death, and she had to take a moment to wonder what it was with doctors and trying to save everyone. Her opinion of the First Order was understandably not the best, but it stood reason that they thought the same about whatever side it was she affiliated herself with. Her interactions with them had all been hostile because they had happened in the middle of a gorram war zone and she’d questioned their stability given she saw one of them hold a saber to [member="Bethany Kismet"]’s neck in a hospital. Why he’d been allowed the weapon was beyond her, but the situation somehow defused with no additional injuries.

Suffice to say she cursed Bryce a few times on the way over, but wariness kept you alive. You had to draw borders somewhere but sometimes those borders were in sand and they could blur the more you moved about them. Her heart thudded once as she thought about [member="Haytham Kaze"] and the years they’d spent together in an intensely passionate but ultimately tragic romance.

She waved off the staff who suggested they escort her to the woman’s room, insisting that she’d find her own way but it was moreso that she just wanted to light a cigarette in front of the Ren’s door without being scolded.

She inhaled slowly, letting her lungs swell with the sweet ether of addiction before exhaling a steady stream of smoke.

On the other side of the threshold, [member="Ara Ren"] would hear two stark knocks against the door.

 

[Ara Zambrano]

One hand outstretched in front of her, Ara sat on the edge of the small bed allotted in her quarters, eyes and mind focused on the small notebook sitting on the face of the desk opposite. Sweat dripped from her temples as she tried to raise the book from its resting place once again, the last dozen attempts having successfully worn the Knight almost to the point of exhaustion. With a curse, she let her hand and grip on the Force within drop, falling back against the firm mattress in frustration.

It had been quite a while since she’d had to resort to hand motions and repetition to do something as simple as levitate a small item a few feet in the air. Staring at the monotone ceiling of the small room, a rush of anger flooded through her, the emotion a constant companion since the battle on Skor had severed her connection with the Dark Side. Weeks of being no better than a non-force user had grated on her nerves and driven her to the pinnacle of self-pity, until death had brought her back from the brink, her power with it. It was weak, strained, but once again she could feel the Force flow through her mind and body.

Somehow, after the battle on Bespin that had nearly killed her...

No, it had killed her.

Green eyes rimmed in red and yellow slammed shut, hands balled up into fists against the sudden shaking the thought of that never-ending blackness brought on. Something tugged on the edges of her awareness, some faint strain of a song whispered through her mind, elusive but brushing against the tide of fear with the warmth of hope. Something had happened to her in death, but as much as the woman struggled to remember it, the hot pain of a saber shredding muscle and bone bled into nothingness, the masked man and his ship the first thoughts and sights to break through the nothingness.

How long she lay against the scratchy blanket and hard mattress searching through her memories, the Ren had no idea. The scent of tobacco swirled, replacing thoughtfulness with disgust as two sharp knocks broke through the silence of the room. Confusion wrinkled the bridge of her nose and eyebrows as she turned her head to face the door, the aura blazing on the other side somewhat familiar, but not that of the Marshall who’d brought her to the medical ward in the first place.

Pushing herself off the bed, she moved to the door in a few quick strides, a neutral smile on her face. The door wasn’t locked from the outside, had never been much to her own surprise, but she highly doubted she would be free to come and go as she pleased. Instead, she’d spent the last day or so recuperating her strength, both physically and mentally.

”Yes-“

Pulling the door open quickly, she leaned against the frame, one corner curling up into a smirk as she recognized the woman on the other side, even as a cloud of smoke wafted past.

”Now, you are not who I expected to see here.”

Raising one eyebrow pointedly, she let her gaze roam down the woman, taking in each detail of the Zeltron in front of her, noting the significant differences since the last and only time they’d made each other’s acquaintance. A club on Seoul had hosted the Ren and a few of her compatriots for an evening before a fight had broken out, spearheaded by Ara herself. The pink skinned woman had distracted Connor from adding to the fray, but without outright violence. Intriguing that here the women would come face to face for the first time in months.

Letting her voice dip into the easy purr that was almost natural, she focused on [member="Joza Perl"] ‘s face once again.

”Can I help you with something?”

 

[Joza Perl]

The door opened to none other than the dark haired vixen Joza had a vague memory of—she’d seen her somewhere in a mix of lowlights and strobes but couldn’t quite place the face to a name. For a moment or so she said nothing and took a pull from the cigarette while letting her eyes roam over the other woman in a quick once over as Ara did the same. Somehow Joza got the impression that neither of them minded.

“Came to check in, Ms. Ren.” Her voice was neutral with a distinct thread of politeness, the sort that was kept proper and in check. Ms. Ren tasted weird in her mouth so she tilted her head to the side and sent a low exhale of smoke away from the pair. Her motives weren’t all that juicy, the Zeltron hadn’t come to probe Ara for information, interrogate or berate her. In a strange way she was a begrudging charge and Joza held enough respect for Bryce so she wouldn’t put up a fuss unless the Ren gave her reason to. She was wary, she was jaded and somewhat bitter but she was also curious about the woman Bryce had rescued from near death (or so the story went).

“Doctor Bantam is a good friend of mine. I couldn’t quite believe that he’d stuck his neck out so far for someone who was—frankly—the enemy on Hoth but here we are.” After she’d given a bit of time for the news to sink in it made more sense given that the passion for healing she’d witnessed in doctors and nurses sometimes extended beyond friendlies. “How are you finding the facilities? Are they treating you well here?”

The possibility that they could’ve faced each other down in a different scenario was very real, but for now she was not interested in fighting or what she could get from Ara. If she ended up escaping, being released or being traded as a prisoner then she’d make damn well sure that the Outer Rim took decent care of her until then. An escaped ‘prisoner’ with horror stories would add more fuel to the propaganda fire.

She stretched slightly, tilting her head upwards and her chin over Ara’s shoulder.

“Do you mind if I come in?”

[member="Ara Ren"]

 

[Ara Zambrano]

A slight crinkle of distaste passed over her face as the Zeltron blew another cloud of smoke away from the pair, the name curling the corners of Ara’s mouth up in an amused smile. Her posture never changed as the other woman repeated her own gesture, the pair sizing each other up without complaint. Idly she wished she was wearing her preferred dark colors and form fitting clothing, instead of the cast-off browns and tans that hung loosely on her athletic form. Instead of showing her disappointment publicly, she cocked a hip, letting the fabric fall against one side and accentuating her curves as best it could. Years of playing the flirt and using her looks to her advantage meant the Ren knew how to wear even the ugliest of clothing.

”Call me Ara.” She purred, noting the almost painfully polite tone with amusement and interest. Her dislike of Ara apparent although it’s motive had yet to be determined. Perhaps she still held a grudge for the brawl on Seoul? Somehow the Ren doubted that small, indirect interaction was enough to inspire such cool politeness.

Doctor Bantam.

The grin turned honest for a moment before melting back into her own version of polite amusement, a name other than “Marshal” to go along with the masked man from Skor. Filling away that small tidbit away, she inclined her head, hair cascading to one side as the pink skinned woman inquired about her well-being and impression of the medical facility that was playing gilded cage for the time being.

Turning her body and extending a hand, she offered the woman a path into the room as her request. The small room had few places to sit, the bed and a chair to accompany the desk the only options. Despite its size, it appeared clean and comfortable, far better than most prisoners of war could expect and something Ara chose to subtly question.

”If you wish, Ms.-?” Pausing to allow her visitor a chance to fill in the blank with a name, title, anything to reference her with other than “Ms. Zeltron”, even if Ara was tempted.

”I will admit, these are not the accommodations I expected to be graced with. They are much more comfortable than we would afford acknowledged enemies, as you so graciously pointed out.”

Said with an easy lightness, her tone was simply curious as opposed to reproachful or insulting. She suspected her visitor knew more than she did about the motivation of Doctor Bantam and his team for their care and kindness. Watching as the woman moved past her and chose a place to sit, she nodded towards a pitcher of water and glasses, thoughtfully filled and replaced multiple times a day, choosing to meet politeness with the same.

”Sadly I seem to be all out of Correlian Brandy, but perhaps water would suffice as a refreshment? I wasn't prepared for visitors.”

A raised eyebrow invited [member="Joza Perl"] to share in the joke, thin as it was.

 

[Joza Perl]

“Perl.” She supplied. “Thank you.”

No snark, no overt sass. Wouldn’t do either of them any good and as Joza had found out from her teenage years, didn’t help in smoothing things over with a potential enemy. She easily identified the sultry purr in the other woman’s voice, the instinctive lean that enhanced the way the broad fabric draped over her shapely curves. It was the sort of thing she saw in the girls she hired, the sort of way she’d learned to behave herself from a young age.

Ara wove it well. Alluring but not desperate. Flaunting just enough for it to be subtle and tempting but not tacky and off putting. Some, she imagined would find it intimidating. Joza simply appreciated it for what it was…though not for Ara as whole because she hadn’t even scratched the surface on who or what she was.

Joza stepped in the room as Ara allowed, scarlet brow arching before rounding out at the allusion to First Order prisoner accommodations. The Coalition didn’t take many prisoners from the war—that was Alliance business as far a she was concerned—but they held a number of unofficial prisons across their territory used for ruffians and the like. The quality of those paled in comparison to the center where Ara was held.

The corner of one lip twitched upwards slightly before coming to rest.

“An unfortunate circumstance. Water would be lovely, thank you.”

Anything Corellian was hard to come by these days since the damned world broke in half, but that was that.

“Are you perhaps Corellian, Ara?”

[member="Ara Ren"]

 

[Ara Zambrano]

A singular name, similar to that Ara had given herself, was supplied. The knight wondered if it was an alias or a nickname, something unidentifiable should she choose to search for the Zeltron in any identification databases. Watching with keen interest as Perl stepped into the room, Ara noted the small movements that matched her own. A sway of the hips, a graceful step, small indicators that they both knew how good they looked…and how to use it to their advantage. Her interest in the pink-skinned woman was piqued, curiosity in her backstory rising.

Moving past her towards the pitcher of water, Ara shook her head softly with a low, light laugh at the question.

”Corellian? Hardly.”

Pouring the clear liquid into two small glasses, she offered one to her guest with an amused smile, cradling her own tumbler in her left hand. Leaning against the desk, half-sitting on the smooth surface, she took a sip more out of something to do as opposed to actual thirst.

”I am –“

A slight pause as she debated exactly how much of her lineage to reveal, half of her genetic make-up still a mystery to Ara, even if she had the name Zambrano to pair with it.

”Mostly Hapan, although I admit to never having the pleasure of visiting my homeworld personally.”

Hanging the tidbit out there, she wondered if the woman would push for the other part of her “mostly Hapan” heritage, or if she would let the mystery lie for a while. Was the purpose of her visit as innocent as it seemed? A concerned friend checking on the potentially dangerous enemy in their midst?

A wicked smile bloomed at the thought, multi-colored eyes flashing down to the crystal glass and the liquid that sloshed softly within. Her free hand moved to rest lightly on the curved hilt of Ba’Vanim, the blade hanging heavily against her hip. One fingernail tapped lightly against the engraved surface, eyes flashing up to watch for any subtle reaction or movements that might reveal nervousness with a weapon so close at hand.

”Have you been to Zeltros, yourself, Ms. Perl?”

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza passed through the entry way, giving Ara a nod in thanks for the water. The circulating air on ships tended to be dry and didn’t do any favors in keeping you hydrated. She took a long, slow sip as Ara worked out her answer, green eyes peering over the rim of the glass in polite curiosity before drawing it away and giving a short sigh in satisfaction. Hydration!

“Hapan, yes. You have the look. Exquisite facial features and trim physique.” In her line of work, talking about a woman’s physical appearance almost clinically was normal. It was a mix of an observation and a complement.

She wouldn’t pry further into the young woman’s genealogy, figuring that it wasn’t much important or she didn’t want to tell—which was fine by Joza given that she wasn’t intending to structure the Ren’s family tree anytime soon. Instead her gaze dipped a bit lower to the saber hilt that rested at Ara’s hip, eyes following the precisely manicured nail that tapped against it. Green eyes rose back to meet with the Hapan’s own, scarlet brows once again rising.

“Born and raised.”

There was little to hide in her heritage, most of it was written plainly on her skin. Her Mandalorian blood, as far as she was concerned, was estranged save for the few threads that kept a very awkward tie with her father.

There was some measure of amusement going on in Ara’s features and Joza couldn’t help but wonder if the Ren was trying to subtly threaten her or was being cheeky.

“May I ask how long you’ll be staying with us?” She picked up her glass again for a quick sip, still a bit parched before placing it back down. “I assume that since you’ve been allowed your saber that you are a guest and less of a…” She paused, eyes rolling upwards as she thought of the correct way to term this.

“…ward.” Her eyes drifted back down as a polite smiled snaked its way onto her face, the sort that was proper and warm with just a hint of a wicked bite behind the layers.

[member="Ara Ren"]

 

[Ara Zambrano]

Inclining her head slightly in acceptance of the compliment, she took another sip of the water, disappointed in the lack of burning sensation that a nice brandy would bring with it. Following Perl’s gaze to the saber and the finger that tapped against it, one corner of her mouth twitched up into a satisfied smile for a moment before smoothing out again.

”Luckily I favour my mother quite heavily. From one as lovely as yourself? High praise indeed.”

A quick wink and another sip as she considered the answers to the questions levelled, the tone and expression polite, but with an undercurrent of wickedness the Hapan could appreciate. Another time and place, Ara would offer to buy the pink skinned woman a drink and enjoy a pleasant evening of sly banter and subtle flirting. As it was, the two found themselves on opposites sides of a galactic conflict, brought together by luck or fate, a truce forged by circumstance.

”I am staying as long as your Mr. Bantam feels is necessary.”

Saluting the other woman with her glass, she set the tumbler aside, entwined fingers resting on the buckle of her belt as she relaxed slightly, looking as much at home in the small, clinical room as she would in her lodgings in the Bastion of Ren.

”We have an accord, your doctor and I. Until he feels I have upheld my portion of the agreement, I am afraid you will have to suffer my presence.”

A thoughtful head-tilt sent her hair tumbling over one shoulder, sly smile replaced by a serious expression as she regarded her guest without the polite amusement of before. A small shrug was the only change in body language as she considered.

”I was as surprised as you, I half expected to fight for its return. When I- awoke from my accident, your doctor was there with clothes, jewelry, my weapon, and a feast fit for a king.”

Letting a thread of incredulousness leak into her voice, dangling another nugget of information and watching for the Zeltron’s opinion of the Ren’s welcome. She didn’t know what to make of the enigmatic and slightly bewildering [member="Bryce Bantam"] , hopeful that this woman might give more about his motivations and person away than she already had.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Perhaps she would’ve contacted Bryce beforehand but her time on the planet was limited and she saw no harm in doing a quick checkup to make sure that the facilities were not burnt to the ground.

Now, the good doctor would receive a very firmly worded holocall at her earliest convenience. As well as they got along, there were points on which they differed. She’d prompt him about the accord mentioned rather than try to work it from Ara—perhaps she’d give it freely, perhaps it was really nothing of concern.

“Suffer? Hardly. The pink tinted woman chuckled, low and throaty. “You’re good conversation.”

If a bit on the cheeky side, but that hardly bothered her. She was curious and her situation definitely seemed…interesting.

“Well, I’m not as surprised hearing that. Bantam’s always had good beside manner.” She huffed once with good humor before taking a slow sip of water. She lowered the glass back down onto the table, green gaze almost glittering in the small ripples of water as her eyes shifted from the glass back to Ara.

“How’d you end up here?”

[member="Ara Ren"]

 

[Ara Zambrano]

Ara returned the woman’s chuckle with her own, a smile blooming at the compliment. It seemed they both enjoyed a little wit and sarcasm with their conversation. The knight found herself liking the Zeltron, despite their positions on opposite sides of a rather costly and deadly war. A shame, really, that Ms. Perl had thrown her lot in with the losing side.

Another deep chuckle accompanied the mention of the doctor’s bedside manner. Mind flitting back to the rather unorthodox welcome, one corner of her mouth quirked up into a smirk.

”Good is a relative term. Interesting and rather curious seem a bit more appropriate in my opinion.”

Also said with a hint of good humor, she caught the other woman’s gaze with her own, twin emerald irises distinguished only by the corrupted outer rim of the Ren’s.

”Would you like the short story or the long one?”

Picking up her own tumbler, she took another sip, rolling the cool liquid over her tongue while she considered. Usually one to play such things close to the chest, Ara could find no harm in sharing the details of her unusual experiences with the woman, especially since she had no doubt Mr. Bantam would as well.

”I am assuming you are familiar with the invasion of Skor II?” Raising an eyebrow in question, she continued after a brief pause to allow for an answer. ”I was there, part of a group intent on reclaiming information from a scrapped ship tagged and located somewhere on the salvage platform. And before you ask, I do not presume to know the content of the recovered data, nor the mission of the ship itself. I was given orders and I followed them.”

In truth, they were there to scrub all evidence of the First Order from the FIV Kingfisher, the Ren providing backup should they have met with opposition, as they had.

”Your Mr. Bantam was there for reasons of his own and we….engaged with each other.”

A wicked grin spread, a tinge of bloodlust sparkling within the depths of her gaze, leaving little to the imagination as to what kind of encounter they had had.

”I supposed you could call the encounter equally matched, as he robbed me of my ability to connect with the Force, turning my own blade against me,” She rested a hand on the hilt of her weapon as she referenced it. ”Although, I believe his hand was severely damaged in the process.”

There was no remorse in her tone, although anger leaked into it as she mentioned the severed connection. Bruised ego mix with anger still festered, even if their accord meant that the one responsible for leaving her broken and severed would be the one to help rekindle her strength.

”He claims the bond forged between us at that moment led him to my side as I died on Bespin, I do not share his confidence.”

A shrug concluded her story, the events on Bespin largely glossed over, even as a tinged of crimson flooded her eyes at the mention of her own death. Meeting the Zeltron’s gaze once again, she waited for the reaction, her expression again neutrally amused despite the heavy content of her words.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza smiled at the edge of the cup, lips balancing on the rim before lifting slightly so that she’d not be speaking directly into the water. “Would that not make for good conversation?”

That was the magic she always found with conversation. You could hate the person in front of you and everything they stood for, but you might find that you don’t dislike speaking with them. She’d had those sorts of talks with Sith even during her days as a Jedi, even.

That’s not to say that Joza inherently disliked Ara—but rather that both women were holding out judgement on each other while maintaining polite conversation. That was something she could appreciate.

“We’ve got time. Whichever version you’d like to tell.” She then gave Ara the floor to speak and leave the story as vague or detailed as she saw fit. For her part, Joza nodded in the right places, watched and listened.

It all seemed quite harmless until she caught the flicker of bloodlust in the other woman’s eyes. It was not unfamiliar, perhaps a bit surprising but altogether it did suit Ara.

“My,” She sat back, sucking in a heavy breath through her teeth before exhaling back out. “It seem as though Doctor Bantam has been quite busy. And he picked such a lovely woman to forge a bond with.” She would have winked had she known Ara better, but for now she settled on a half-smile that would make her intent at a joke clear.

The idea of Force bonding has always skeeved her out, ever since…

She willed the thought away like the dark cloud that it was and wrapped both hands around her glass in thought. “That may shed a little more light onto why he brought you here. Of course I’ll ask for his version as well. Hopefully he’s recovered from this stint, limbs intact.” There was a musing edge to her tone as she tilted her head back to take another sip of water, eyes rolling given how Bantam had jumped from their ship wearing his Mr. Heartbeat sash. He’d always been likable.

“What do you do in the First Order, Ara?” It was a sudden question, but perhaps it wouldn’t seem so out of the blue to her. Joza was no interrogator, not now, so there were no airs to be put on, no threats of putting out her fingernails until she answered or ripping her teeth out. No mental serpents trying to creep their way into her head and tentacle through her mind and glean information.

It was plain curiosity for a massive regime she’d only experience from one side.

[member="Ara Ren"]