Coruscant's Underworld

"I am going to ask you some questions to establish your mental state and alterness. Do you know what day it is?"
"Uh, standard mid-week?" Easy question. Even the droid at the bar knew that one.
"Do you know who is the current emperor?"
A bit more tricky. "Emperor Augustine?" At least that's what the droid said at the bar.
"Uh huh." The doctor nodded, his suspicions confirmed. "Have you had any other symptoms of head trauma?"
"Like what?"
"Confusion, nasea, dizziness, blurry vision, hallucinations, unable to orient to time and place, missing time, emotional outbursts, siezures, tremors?"
"Sounds like a good time!" Icarus laughed. "If I seem him, I'll let him know you're looking for him."
Looking for? Found is more like it. The Sullustian pulled a scope from his breast pocket and took a closer look at Icarus' eye. "Yeah. You're skull might be cracked. It seems like the nerve is still functional, and the rest of your eye too. You might just have had a head wound." He picked up one of the formerly sterile instruments off the floor and used it to scrape at the clot. "In fact, your eye might be fine, and just..."
A big piece of scab came off and Icarus blinked both his eyes, his left, suddenly squinting in the clinic lights.
"...stuck shut and covered by the scab."
"That's amazing Doc! I can see!" Icarus blinked and brushed away bits of scab that were stuck in his eyelashes.
"Careful!"
Icarus broke a piece of scab that was covering his head wound above his left eyebrow. Blood started running down his face again.
"Dammit." Doctor Zwooiam grabbed a bacta patch off the floor, and pealed it open. "Hold still. You're bleeding!"
"Huh?" Icarus looked down and saw blood on his hand. "AH! I'm bleeding!"
Before Icarus could react further, the doctor slapped the Bacta patch right on the gash in his forehead. "That will hold the bleeding but it won't fix your broken cranium."
"Psht. I've broken my cranium plenty of times. I'll be fine." He confabulated. "Say Doc, you don't suppose that you could give me something for the pain, could ya?" He was solicitous.

Out in the street again, Icarus felt the credit chits clinking in his jacket. He patted his pocket. They were burning a hole in his pocket. He wanted to go to the docks... but them doses. That sweet medical syrup... powder... whatever it was-. The docks weren't going anywhere... Perhaps he should secure his doses now. You know, before the evening rush. It would be a shame to delay and discover that his dealer didn't even have 11 doses. Yeah. He should make sure there were no problems. I mean, what if the dealer tripped in the next few hours and dropped or lost a couple doses?

At the thought of potentially dropped doses of drugs, he carefully scanned the garbage around him in the street. They didn't seem to be concealing any hidden or lost drugs. But how could he be sure? There was only one way to find out. He held his breath and dove into a pile of garbage waiting for collection.

Overturning empty packages and bent metal, Icarus searched excessively for the hint of potentially lost or discarded drugs. It had been a while since he last had a dose. His skin crawled. His hands shivered and shook. His body started to ache and burn. His dry eyes itched and then started to burn immediately after he rubbed them with his filthy hands. He was, in all probability, dying. He felt like it. He had no idea when the last time he had eaten. He felt the fires of thirst begin to rise. Food and drink were apparitions that paled in comparison to his driving need for a hit, but his belly started to ache, along with his broken head as he dug through piles of garbage.

Through his pain and watery eyes, he continued his search. He moved to the next pile and dug. Nothing. He found a half empty bottle of YumYum, a sweet beverage. He swilled it down, discovering that it had fermented. It burned his dry throat. His dry mouth started to crack and bleed as the liquid began to revive the sensitive tissues. He had forgotten how nice it was to have a drink even though the ethanol stung.

In the piles of refuse, he found an old tin of CHAMP canned meat ("It satisfies!"). The tin was rusted and the meat did not look organic anymore. Icarus shoved the mush in his mouth and started chewing anyway. Anything to fill his belly for a moment so he could get back to looking for doses.
Chew.
Chew.
It. Was. Awful.
Chew. Maybe he needed to give it time?
Swallow. Nope. Probably a mistake. No, definitely a mistake!
He immediately started dry heaving. He would have thrown up (he tried to) but his body seemed to cling to the meager nutrients that he had managed to consume. Instead he had a coughing fit.

"What are you doing?" A small voice asked from behind him.

"So where are your parents?" He thought back to his dream about the purple and blue Twileks. "They aren't a pair of twileks are they?" He was still trying to fathom how he knew the child and had no memory of her. His brain didn't grasp the absurdity of his question to the pale human standing in front of him.
"I'm HUMAN!" She waved her scrawny arms at the back of her head to show off that she didn't have head-tails.

"Do you know my name?" Icarus asked, raising an eyebrow. It was worth asking again. Maybe Mr. Ancklyt got it wrong?
"Icarus. But I call you Icky."
Icarus nodded, relieved. He was glad that his name was Icarus. He felt rather fond of it now. The fact that she knew his name and had a nickname made him wonder if he had been sowing oats... "I'm, uh. I'm not your... your... par... parent, right?" he gulped.
"No. I don't have parents." She put her hands down her pants to scratch an itch. "Last time, you said you weren't sure if you liked the name but wasn't sure that it fit you. You said you felt more like a Horatio. Do you still feel like a Horatio?"
The hobo thought about it. "No. I feel like an Icarus." He winked at her. "I am pleased to be Icarus. You can call me Icky."
"But I already do call you icky!" She laughed. "You're funny and kind."
"Well, not always nice." he had a nagging feeling on the edge of his brain. "Why did I give you food?" He still couldn't figure out 1) why he had food and 2) why he would give it away instead of trying to sell the food for drug money.
"Well, you had a Golgi Apfel and you offered to sell it to me for 20 credits."
20 credits? Didn't sound like him. "You had 20 credits?" He interrupted. Was the mystery solved? "Do you have 30 credits now?" He briefly contemplated conning the kid out of any credits she had.
"I didn't have any. I still don't have any credits." She looked disappointed. In turn, Icarus looked disappointed. "That's a shame."
"Yeah. Anyway I didn't have credits but I did have a bag of dust and-"
"Dust?" Icarus interrupted again.
"Yeah. You said it was Dragon's dust. Hapan hyperspace engine lubricant. I got it from a dead smuggler that fell down a ventilation shaft. Me and some of the other kids found him and split his belongings and the dust was my share." Whoma waited for Icarus to interrupt her again, but he didn't. "You took the dust and pawned it for me and took 30 credits as your "brokering fee." Whoma made air quotes with her fingers. "You gave me the remaining 10 credits and the Apfel."
Icarus stoically listened to Whoma's description of how he had cheated her. "Do you have anything you want me to pawn for you?" He asked, wondering if could get another brokering fee.
"No. But I am hungry. You look hungry too."
"I do?" Icarus asked and looked down at himself. His billowy stained shirt and pants were loose-- he looked down the neck of his shirt and could see his own ribs. "I always look like this." He seemed to be losing interest in Whoma as he inspected his prized find and turned his attention to the test tube.
"No, you're thinner and more pale now. Other kids that look like you starve to death. I think you're going to die." She was earnest. Bless the blunt frankness of a child.
"Psht. No I'm not!" He put his finger in the test tube and motioned to himself with it like it was an extension of his finger. 
"If you were that thin when we met, you wouldn't have got stuck in the ventilation shaft."
"Come again?" Icarus pursed his lips. "How did we meet?" It was odd; them meeting at all. Like he thought before, adults of all species could be very unkind to street children in the lower levels.
"I was climbing up an air duct, and then you suddenly came sliding down the duct. You were screaming 'Caw Caw!' "
Icarus raised his eyebrows. "Caw Caw?" Icarus put the test tubbed finger to his chin.
"Yeah. But you did it, like, alot. You said it a bunch of times. You said you were a bird." She flapped her arms.
"That doesn't sound like me." He tried to pull off the test tube and realized it was stuck. 

"You only said you were a bird that first time." She tried to be responsive to Icarus, but also tell the story as she saw it. "But you were falling and I couldn't get out of the way in time, and we dropped like, 20 levels-"
"How did we not die?"  He tried to aggressively pull off the test tube again ignoring that he needed to be careful with glass.
"You got stuck in the tunnel and grabbed me before I fell further. And then I..." Whoma decided to leave out the part where she cried alot. "Then you climbed down to a side vent and you threw me through it.
"Sounds... improbable?"  The test tube shot off his finger and he had to juggle it to keep from dropping it. 
"That's how you got those scars." Whoma pointed to the healed patches of scar tissue on his elbows. "Your shoulders, and knees were also bleeding."
Icarus checked those areas to find corresponding patches of scars. They were out of the way, so he wasn't surprised that he didn't notice them sooner.

"Well room and board, lets see. They were 30 credits a night for three nights, and then food was 30 credits for the three days..." Icarus continued his accounting with the empty test tube in one hand and his finger extended in the other, careful not to touch anything with the finger he used to check for residue.

As the price to reimburse the hobo continued to rise, the man seemed less and less enthusiastic about his prospective purchase, his smile sagging.

Without using his hands, Icarus contorted his body until he was crouching and then stood up. "And then there was the cost of entertainment, medical care..."
"Entertainment?" The man scoffed, "Medical care?" The man scrutinized Whoma, attempting to see if there was anything wrong with her.
Icarus continued talking as he walked around the man. "But we're friends, aren't we? I'll cut you a deal on her medical care, say 300 credits?"
"300??" The man had clearly expected an easier time getting Whoma and was starting to get louder and more agitated.
Whoma had backed away from Icarus and the would-be kidnapper, until she was standing in the garbage pile Icarus had been sifting through, with her back against the wall, trying to look as small as possible.
"300." Icarus repeated. "Unless, as a father, you think I deserve more for caring for your precious..."
The man looked angry at that price.
Icarus stared back and repeated himself. "Only the best for your precious...?" Icarus motioned to Whoma, while maintaining eye contact with the "father," to prompt him to say Whoma's name.
"What?" The man sneered.
"The name of your daughter. Your precious...?" Icarus motioned to Whoma again, like a salesman showing her off.

The man looked at Icarus blankly before he realized that the smelly hobo wanted him to guess the girl's name. "I don't have time for this! Just give me the girl, and I'll give you your reward. Simple as that."
"Your daughter, you mean." Icarus corrected him.
"Just take the money and I'll take my daughter."
"Well, all said and done, with the discount on her medical bills," Icarus tapped his chin with the test tube as he worked on the math in his head. "500 credits."
"500?! You said 300!"
"No, 300 was just what I said her medical bills cost. She's very sickly. I mean, look at her!" Icarus motioned to her.
Whoma looked back and forth between Icarus and the stranger as they bartered over her price.
"You're trying to cheat me!" The man looked around to see if anyone had taken notice of their discussion. "Take the 300 credits," The man produced three 100 credit chits and reached for Whoma. "And I'll take the girl."

The "father" felt a tap on his shoulder. 
"Excuse me dude." Icarus was feeling groovy and going with the flooooooooow.  He continued tapping the man's shoulder.
"Fuck off you fucking druggie hobo." The man was too busy with the struggling child and didn't bother turning around. He pulled a pair of binders from his pocket.

Seeing the binders only made her more fearful. "Leave me alone!" All she could think about was how she didn't want to go where ever it was the man wanted to take her. "Stop!"
Perhaps the man didn't understand Whoma's request? Icarus tried again. "Last chance duuuude. She hired me to-"
The man whirled on Icarus and slapped the test tube and 300 credits out of Icarus' hands. "I said fuck off!"

Icarus didn't blink. With a white-hot flash of murderous rage on his face, Icarus instantly reacted and punched the man in the throat.

Whoma barely saw it, it was so fast. And then, the murderous rage was gone from Icarus' face. It took longer for the man to crumple to the ground than for Icarus to immediately drop and start looking for the lost test tube and the credit chits.

Whoma saw one of the hundred-credit chits slide under a dumpster. She retrieved it while Icarus wasn't looking and dropped it down the waistband of her pants. She silently glared at him while he continued to search. She looked down at the motionless man, and kicked him in the head with her small feet. She heard a crack. She must have broken his nose... but no blood was coming out. Or rather it oozed, not flowed.
"That can't be good." She looked back at Icarus. She looked down at the man, who still had not moved. She looked closer at him and saw the dent in his neck. She also couldn't tell if his chest was rising or falling.

As a TIE/vn pilot, everything Celeste knows about spycraft comes from either holovids or novels, and now that she finds herself in the middle of a plot that seems to have been taken from one of the more paranoid thrillers she has seen or read on screens, she supposes that she will have to hope that some of what had served as entertainment just might save her from imprisonment or worse. After she had seen her father, Yaga Minor's Moff Malosi Randd, looking uncomfortable while speaking in hushed voices with a furtive looking group of high ranking military officers, other Moffs and what seemed to be wealthy, influential beings from around the Empire at one of the social gatherings she had attended with him after the late Emperor's death, Celeste had seen a change in her father's behavior; not ever a heavy drinker, Malosi had begun drinking frequently with no discernible enjoyment, taking comms at all hours of the day and night that seemed only to increase the high levels of anxiety which had begun to be evident after the conversation she had witnessed him participating almost reluctantly in, and avoiding her in general when they had always been close.

Not more than an hour ago, Celeste had finally learned the reason for the change in her father, and what she had learned has led her into Coruscant's Underworld to make a desperate attempt to contact her oldest and dearest friend, Roland Ferrum to warn him of the danger he may be in due to the sinister plot her father is a part of to supplant the true Emperor of the First Order, Octavian Delvardus. Whether it had been due to his inebriation, guilt for being a part of the plot, or to a need to unburden himself of his guilty knowledge, her father had revealed his complicity to her after she had spent the morning pleading with to tell her what had caused the changes in him and their relationship, seems unimportant to Celeste, dressed in her most nondescript clothing to better fit in among the denizens of the Underworld, now as she tugs at the hood over her jacket to make sure it's shadows will conceal her face as she heads into a dank, anonymous, darkened and smoke filled cantina, carrying a used, most likely stolen datapad purchased with credits from a street vendor moments ago.

Taking a seat in a corner table that affords her a clear view of the cantina's entrance in case what she has learned from holovids winds up bring the ISB or worse down upon her, Celeste sets the datapad on the sticky, filthy surface of the table, the pounding beat of the Warbat trance music playing loud enough to drown out the whispered or shouted conversations going on all around the cantina only serving to increase her stress induced headache, and looks around surreptitiously for any signs of security cameras in the place even though the fug of cigarra and deathstick smoke drifting lazily in the air throughout the dive would render any footage they might capture of her all but useless. After seeing no sign of cameras and looking around to see if anyone appears interested in her and seeing no evidence of having attracted any undue interest, Celeste tugs the hood of her jacket down further and hunches over to conceal what she is doing as she puts Roland's holonet mail address into the datapad, staring blankly at the blinking cursor as she wonders what message she can send him to alert him of the danger he is almost certainly in that would not attract the interest of any ISB agents monitoring his device. Smiling as she remembers a memorable event from their time together in the Imperial Starfighter Academy that should require only a single word to clue her friend into the danger she has learned he and some of his family members are in, Celeste types Heraxas and sends the message.

Pocketing the datapad, Celeste tosses it into an overflowing dumpster in an alley several blocks from the cantina, and then begins making her way, checking continually to see if she can detect any signs of being followed, back to the upper levels of the city to wait for any sign from Roland that her message was received and understood.

Faina has regained consciousness by the time they make the first halt, but moves and looks as though she is in a daze; fatigue and the shock of the Force Bond between her and Brock being severed so violently and suddenly leaving her feeling hollowed out and numb, and the loss of all the Force Bond bequeathed unto her making her feel as though she has been torn in half, one half gone while the other lingers in world that seems less bright, less vital, less everything in a way that is almost more unbearable that losing Nicademus had been.

Nicolina looks at Faina worriedly as Bedros tells her that his abbreviated exam of the Dowager Empress - involving primarily the use of a medisensor and a few questions that were answered listlessly - had not revealed anything other than the relatively minor wounds she had received in the failed battle to defend the palace. Nicolina has known Faina for a long time, and has seen her down before, but there is something different about the withdrawn, apathetic state that worries Nicolina since she has never known her friend to be so dispirited when there is still a fight to be won, especially with her daughter to rescue from captivity.

When Roland ends the brief halt and gets them all moving again Faina sticks close to Nilda, her fellow Imperial Knight simply due to the fact she is the closest member of the ragtag company when they are moving again.

Jin gave a brief goodbye to Yvanie, before they parted ways, but otherwise, followed Roland. Though she glared at anyone who's gaze lingered on her too long. What, had they not seen a woman just back from a fight for her life before? Though she was thankful for the rescue, given what little she knew and depending on what she didn't, Jin wasn't convinced she hadn't traded one prison for another. Especially with the Imperial Knights around. It was no secret how Roland's father felt about the Ren, and she was now the only one present. Well, not that she was technically within the Ren hierarchy, but again, she didn't know how much of a distinction would be drawn.

The young woman took the offered seat on the couch. Had she not still been so tense, she could have probably passed out right then and their, but her guard and training wouldn't allow it in this moment. Her dark eyes met Roland's brilliant green as he spoke. The first sentiment, Jin felt the same one. Definitely would have been good to see him again, and under different circumstances would have called for a celebratory drink. But these weren't normal times. And then his last statement caught Jin like a slap to the face and a punch to the gut at the same time. She could sense though that it was coming from a place of concern and genuine interest from Roland. Clearly he knew as much as she did on current events happening off planet. She leaned forward, her elbows propped on her knees and her head hung low, looking to her hands dangling uselessly between her legs and past them to the floor. I- I don't know. Roland, something bigger than we are seeing is happening out there. The only reason I left Fi's side was to try and stop this shit from happening. She looked back up at Roland. Fear was creeping back into Jin's mind. People were dying in the Deep Core. Staunch allies to the Ren and Fiora. Then Silas and Harnan found evidence that revealed it to be some huge plot perpetrated by your father and Octavian. Before I knew what was happening talk of rebellion and war were being thrown around by the three like it was the only way... I couldn't- I couldn't let war and death be the first option, so I begged and pleaded to go and talk to Octavian and Brock and find out why they had done it, or what I had hoped, to find that they were innocent. She looks down again. But by the time I arrived it was too late, the fighting had already started here, and I was captured shortly after making it to the surface. She shoots up suddenly to standing. There has to be something bigger at play. I mean, Baltasar and Fiora are both raising flags of rebellion at the same time? That's not a coincidence, those things don't just happen! Not without a lot of strings being pulled. She stopped, as if realizing something, or someone was missing. Then her eyes are drawn to the lightsaber hanging from Roland's belt, the one that had produced the Gold blade she would recognize anywhere. She takes a couple steps forward and wraps her arms around Roland in a hug. I'm sorry.

Jin was not above sharing in the crying that took place. She would never judge anyone their grief over loosing a parent. It was one of the greatest pains one could ever know, probably second only to loosing a child. And she knew that Brock was a good man, a principled man who would have given his life a thousand times for his beliefs and ten thousand more times for his loved ones. His sacrifice no doubt saved many who he loved, buying precious time and space for them, his son included. And this provided a good time for her to get her own emotions out in a less destructive way than when she had been incarcerated.

After the hug ended, Jin dried her own eyes on her sleeves, and returned the weak smile, allowing that moment to be full of memories of her and Roland's times together. Bonding over their shared upbringing in the City Slums before being elevated to heights never dreamed of (both figuratively and literally). No need to be sorry, Roland. It's been a hard time for both of- wait... Did you just say weeks?! Plural?! A new wave of anxiety washed over Jin. She and Yvaine must have been kept sedated over longer stents than she had originally realized. Probably another tactic by Myria Horn to keep the pair unbalanced. Then it's too late, Harnan and Silas will definitely have gotten the War started. Probably even using me missing as another reason to go to war... Damn it! Jin pounded her fists into her head in frustration. Idiot! She next tried to take some deep breaths, letting herself calm down. She looked Roland in the eyes as he spoke about the possibility of getting her off planet. And how tempting an offer it was, Jin could be gone, and reunite with Fiora. But this world suffered, her home. People who she cared for deeply were in a fight for their lives here and now. She knew what she had to do. No, I will stay. I hate it, but it's the right thing to do. This planet, you, need me. I'll keep fighting for the right side. Maybe in the end that will mean something, or maybe it wont, but I'll know I did the right thing.