Everybody Knows War

[Fromikeable]

What a morning. It was all Vance could do to brush himself off as his borrowed speeder zipped through the Nar Shadda skyline. For a man who had just been in a firefight, he looked fairly good, the only real indication being the small sweat he'd worked up and a few noticeable holes in his clothing.

He really needed to make sure he didn't half-ass blocking blaster bolts. The near-misses were expensive to deal with.

But no, small burns or not, he needed to get to work. It was one thing for the Hutts to feel confident to put out a hit on Lidah. They hadn't been that since... well, Vance wasn't sure exactly what had happened, but considering Locke had begun visiting shortly after their activity had dropped dramatically, he would put good money on the Jedi Master having a hand in it all.

He'd get the answer one day, he hoped.

The billowing smoke appearing before him made him hit the breaks, bringing the speeder down as the scene became apparent. A multitude of Exchange security agents were already keeping people clear of what could only be described as a bombsite. The wrecked, flaming husk of a large commercial speeder roasted inside and out with roaring flames, the infrastructure around it telling the tale of a big explosion. The building it sat before, an upscale hotel, bore the scars of the attack, its windows shattered, its entrance in pieces, and its atrium a mess of cinders and debris. Not even the sign, which had formerly been written in bold neon cursive suspended stories above the street, had survived.

As Vance's speeder landed, he sat back to take it all in, popping a black jacket over his shirt to hide his recent history.

"Thel!" An Exchange agent, a male twi'lek of middle age, jogged up to the speeder as it opened. Waving at him, Vance adjusted his new top as his hands came to his hips.

"Laruso. What gives?"

"Fucked if I know!" Flopping his arms in agitation, the twi'lek's voice shook a bit in panic. "I get in this morning and start doing security checks, and the next thing I know, some jackass left his stoner van out front!" Motioning at the burning speeder with an angry wave of his arm, the Twi'lek moaned. "Then the lobby's gone, the receptionist and three guests are on life-support, and, just-" Overwhelming himself, Laruso shook his head. "Tell me you know what's going on!"

"I'm working on it. Just get everything secure and give me some room." Puffing his hair a bit, Vance reached into his pocket for a pair of shades, squinting through the sunlight until they were on. "Call the other managers around, tell 'em what's up."

"Y-yeah, aright!" Storming off, Laruso disappeared with an upset jog, yelling for a comm.

Left to his own devices, Vance idly patted his saber and his belt before walking forward through the forming wall of security. Stepping onto the crime scene, he paused for a moment, sighing. A hit on Lidah and a bombing of one of her properties, and both within a few minutes of each other in terms of time and location, was hardly coincidence.

Somebody was up to something.

[Moonfire]

Nervous ticks, little fidgets of fingers and drags of teeth to lip, fluttered at the edge of Moonfire's consciousness present and wanting but never manifesting. She'd had practice at this now-- if only for a few quick missions for Coruscant Security Forces. Easy information gathering covers had been the bulk of her experience, a bubbly intern, a pleasant caseworker, a secretary. The sort of roles an unassuming young woman could fade easily into, overlooked scenery much like the expensive drapery and rich marble floor her heels clicked quietly across.

Today was different she thought as a hand went to paw the thick braid at her shoulder, short clipped nails catching strands and releasing them just as quickly. The offending hand moved to hoist the mostly empty shoulder bag higher up, where it couldn’t fall into telling old habits. Iris Marth didn’t fuss with her hair when she was nervous, no. Iris wouldn’t be at all frazzled by checking into one of the nicest hotels on Nar Shaddaa.

Turning the key-card end over end she resisted the urge to the check the room number again, 647 emblazoned in mind as she turned one indistinct corridor for another. Oh, bother. She’d taken a wrong turn again, the numbers that had been ascending now tauntingly descending. Cooly, she turned again, scanning the empty hallway with a bored expression before finding where she’d slipped up.

A few quick steps back and she was waving the little keycard across the sensor, doors slipping open to reveal a lavishly decorated room of rich and garish red, plum and gold. Far removed from the sterile lightness of the Republic, the woman couldn’t help but crack as a grin as she kicked off the heels, flopping unceremoniously onto the plush and expansive bed.

“It’s like laying on a cloud…” The young woman mused, stretching out barefoot across the room provided by none-other than by Sebastian Monroe, CEO of Adega Airships, Iris’ employer and man currently in the market for a bit of leverage against a rather irritatingly environmentally friendly core-world Senator. Rumor had it a cartel slicer of some renown had such leverage available for purchase. A cartel agent who had, unfortunately, sliced his way into enough high profile Republic systems to gain the attention and ire of Coruscant Security Forces.

And thus, the feeding of select pieces of information, all mostly untrue and carefully planted to try and narrow down their search, had lead to here. To Moonfire Shae, dressed up like a cut-throat business woman in a sheath-style dress sprawled across the softest bed she’d ever lain in, knowing full well how she needed to get up and start scanning for bugs in the room.

That’s what Iris would do next despite how desperately Moonfire wanted to enjoy the soft, soft bed. The fluid transition from bed to bare feet became a rather sudden tumble to the floor as the building shook and noise, a cavernous and far too close boom rocked the building in a tinkle of the crystal chandelier above her and the knocking of frames from the wall beside her.

Within moments the Jedi was back to her feet, hands reaching at first for the hilt of saber hidden in her bag, only to instead withdraw blaster from her coat, tossing the much smaller purse within up and over her shoulders as hands reached for the pair of far more sensible shoes, tugging them on one handed as she made her way back up and out the door she’d only just entered.

Sweeping her way down flights of stairs, Moonfire resisted the urge to take charge, allowing the scrambling hotel staff to guide them down as smoke filtered lazily with the acrid stank of burnt fuel through the crumbling walls.It didn’t take long for the girl to appraise the situation, joining the gawking and terrified array of exotic rich and debaucherous in the previously silent halls. Whatever had happened, it’d been localized to the front of the hotel.

Ducking past and away from the recommended evacuation route, Moonfire followed the Force, the nagging little pin-pricks of something that guided her to ignore every bit of sense, every bit of herself that needed to blend in with the raucous guests to instead join the emergency personnel rushing about the burnt out insides of what was once a comfortably gaudy lobby. Once more the Force tugged at her, forcing feet forward as medics rushed to the victims, the receptionist being hover-lifted out the blackened hole as more worked at the three other found women, a trio of sisters undoubtedly on a weekend away.

Blaster found it’s holster as the niggling guidance of the Force pulled the young woman towards an overturned statuette, obscured some by debris-- broken glasses and the scattered remains of what might have been a tree some twenty minutes before, and beneath that a rather well polished men’s shoe.

Connected, oddly enough, to a well-dressed Zeltron passed out and half-buried in the lobby wreckage. Letting loose a small gasp Moonfire, with little thought to appearances and the rather uncomfortable dress she currently wore, went to work uncovering the man with a call over her shoulder. “There’s someone over here! Call for another stretcher!”

Moments later she stumbled forward, flats still a poor choice of disaster footwear but miles better than heels, gentleman half slung over her shoulder as she relished the smoggy, but slightly fresher air of the outside world. This was going to be a long day.

[Fromikeable]

With the security forming a solid perimeter and the hotel staff funneling people out of the now-decrepit lobby, Vance moved through the street past the perimeter with a nod. Within the ring of agents, the crime scene had more or less been left empty, the speeder at its center blazing as bits of the building's front still crumbled and snapped.

A fresher site of bombing, there had never been.

The speeder was the first point of investigation, of course, but considering the flames billowing out of it, Vance could only look from a distance. Murals composed of outrageous colors and characters seemed to adorn the now charred sides, with no apparent company logos, symbols, or identifications apparent. Inching a little closer, Vance frowned as he could feel the power cells within the craft fueling the fire.

The security was already responding, a quartet of men with extinguishers and a hose jogging out into the street. Catching one of the by the shoulder, Vance yelled lightly over the noise of the combustion. "Come get me when you're done! Try to save as much as you can!" With a few affirmative nods, he gave the van one last look before stepping into the lobby.

The inside of the building looked worse than the outside, if that was even possible. The entire lobby was ground-zero; the entire front wall was missing, the reception desk was a collection of splinters, the furniture in pieces or otherwise formerly on fire, and every floor tile and ceiling ornament a cracked mess. The only thing that had survived with its original shape looked to be the central staircase, and judging by how many of its support beams were showing, that could only be chalked up to the building's architecture. This bomb hadn't been to hit something outside; the blast seemed to have been directed straight at the lobby.

With his overview complete, Vance peeled off his shades as he closed his eyes, concentrating. His presence spread out into the lobby, licking over everything he could reach. The receptionist was faint indeed, her shallow breathing reflected in the weak pulses of her being. The trio of sisters only fared a little better, their bonds apparent even as they lay in rough shape on their stretchers. A man seemed to be stuck under quite the collection of debris, damn near dead as-

Vance's head snapped toward the woman digging him out. In contrast to the wild, subconscious movements of every other presence in the room, hers moved... with awareness. With a degree of control the others didn't. Not like it was trained, per se, not like it was actively trying to do anything, but...

She's sensitive, at least. What was more, she wasn't in nearly as much of a panic as the rest of the customers. She fit the bill, given the expensive outfit, but judging by the full holster tucked within her jacket, the speed with which she'd just saved that Zeltron's life, and the fact that she'd stopped to notice him at all, she wasn't just another customer. She was a walking mystery.

One that needed to be solved up front. Depending on who she was, she was a prime suspect.

Jogging over to intercept her, Vance hollered at a passing medic, who in turn hollered at a few more. In moments, the lot of them were swarming on her, everyone involved trying to move the very broken Zeltron man onto a stretcher as quickly and softly as they could. As soon as he was strapped on, the medics were practically sprinting in the direction of a waiting speeder, other medics within ushering them forward.

"Good eye." Giving her a hard stare for a moment, Vance weighed his options. She was either a sensitive born beyond the reaches of testing infants, or she was a trained user that, intentionally or otherwise, was missing the mark on concealing their presence. On the one hand, she was another innocent bystander who had genuinely wanted to do something humanitarian. On the other hand, she was with one of the orders or even with some part of the underworld that was here with some sort of agenda.

Was the latter option paranoid? Sure. But if working with Lidah all these years had taught Vance anything, it was that paranoia was a life skill on Nar Shadda.

"Could I get your name for the record?" Brushing his presence against hers, Vance made it clear that he was trained, watching close to see if he could get any sort of response.

[Moonfire]

Spending your youth traveling the galaxy in a cramped space ship with a reptilian diplomat and his collection of angsty teenagers gave one a rather privileged set of experiences. Droid brawls on Umghal, museums on Zeltros, camping on Felucia… Yet nothing in all her years had ever been quite like this, the chatter of emergency personnel and the harried maelstrom of emotions from the victims whirling through the force, a feeling a long slow breath stamped down into something smaller-- something manageable.

It reminded her in some small way of Coruscant after the invasion, flickers of debris and lines of wounded in cramped med-bays sat heavy in mind as steady hands carefully were relieved of her charge. Straightening some a practiced hand moved to adjust her skirt and jacket in faux vanity, blue eyes skirting up to meet the man addressing her. Iris wouldn’t dare to be seen as anything but perfectly put together, blood smeared across her sleeves or not.

Stifling a ‘Thank you,’ The dark haired woman nodded with a tilt of her head to the stranger, slim coker of pearls about her neck moving with the force of her gulp. Extending a hand, one not precariously covered in blood to the man. Tall and with weary eyesthe color of crushed glass beneath the squint of appraisal she allowed a cool gaze to study his features. The force flowed off of him in waves, a cool wind that raised skin to gooseflesh. Relief tinged with fear? Fulfilment tainted by resent? Moonfire couldn’t quite place the feelings the man evoked, but it was far from any Sith she’d had the misfortune of finding and allowed her surprise to play across her face in a few carefully selected tells.

Slanted eyes blinked away from the eye contact, head giving the subtlest of shakes as she tried to brush away the feelings. Superstition. A gut feeling. That was Iris’ experience with the Force, and any untrained force sensitive would feel the same prickle knock them ever so askew. To hide it or embrace it would only complicate things further.

“Iris Marth-- Adega Airships, room six-fourty-seven.” The woman tilted her head towards the ruined entrance, voice plainly Coruscanti with a formal cut. “I heard the explosion from my room, came down as part of the evac.” Arms wrapped slightly about her middle, eyes skirting the scene more closely now, the mural across the ruined van’s side now blackened ghosts splashed in soot and dust across the concrete in the smoggy, yellowed light of day.

“I’d make a quip about getting a refund on my room, but…” Her eyes flicked back to the stretchers, lips tilting up in chagrin before regarding Vance once more with a look of mild, yet controlled shame. “Are you in charge here?”

[Fromikeable]

Vance stared hard at her eyes as they met his own, his polite tone doing little to hide the scrutinizing look. He hardly saw the blood; between the attack this morning and now this, he was a dusty, bloody, disheveled mess, his jacket uneven and crumpled, the shirt beneath riddled with tears. All in all, he looked like he felt; like he'd had a rough half hour.

The inquisition wasn't limited to her eyes. His presence scanned her like a machine, watching every flicker, tracking every pattern. She was nervous. Maybe a smidge frightened, but not quite out of her element. Hopeful, but realistic? Or perhaps, shaken, but not quite stirred. Whoever she was, this wasn't the first time she'd had to face the horrible and unexpected, not by a long shot.

The real clue was in the surprise that made its way into her expressions. That sort've called it, now didn't it?

"You could say that." Leaning back on his rear foot, Vance crossed his arms. His body language settled somewhere between courteous and tensed, his shoulders clearly held a tight while his hand waved lazily atop his arm, as if making idle chitchat. He only broke his eyes from her to look over the lobby again, catching the sight of the Zeltron man she'd saved finally being loaded into a medical speeder. As it zoomed into the sky above them, he hummed lightly.

Either she was playing an overtly complicated alibi, or she was exactly the innocent bystander she claimed to be. The latter might prove more helpful than he knew.

"Adega Airships, though... I can't say that I'm familiar. Is it a Republic company?" He turned his head a bit, giving her a fair degree of side-eye. As if to accent the hidden question, he nudged his saber on his belt with the Force, causing it to swing a bit.

[Moonfire]

An eyebrow cocked at the question, the sudden presentation of a cylinder at the man’s hip being thrust forward in another tug of the force begging her attention. Hesitant to break the contact Moonfire weighed out her own suspicions and possibilities before letting watery eyes slip down to the much taller figure’s belt. Before her was a man, undoubtedly a trained Force User, who wanted her to know it.

Was it some sort of invitation? A warning? His aura spoke of a man of complicated history and ambiguous morality, a dangerous thing. Perhaps more so than the distinct distaste of the darkside. Her own replied in kind, a trill of all too real fear being quickly stamped down by iron will.

Briefly Moonfire wondered what Locke would do? He’d played the mercenary and grey jedi angle time and time again, knew how to conceal his presence in the force with far more refinement and care than her own. Dark brows furrowed further, brushing away her own nervous thoughts for something more solid. Steady. What mattered was the loss of life and the smoldering wreckage beside them, none of which was being effectively handled by two innocent yet blatantly suspicious parties leering at one another amongst the rubble. Moonfire’s whirling insecurity didn’t matter here.

What mattered right now was Iris. And Iris Marth would take none of this. “Corellian, to be specific-- Don’t believe I’ve caught your name, Mister…?” Her eyes met his again, not in challenge but in cool and open appraisal, skimming down scruffy tattered clothes and disheveled posture as she moved to hold herself a bit straighter in what she’d hoped would come off as clear compensation-- Perhaps a tad too on the nose, that.

[Fromikeable]

Her presence flickered, her face contorting into a look of consideration. The message had gotten across clearly, and by the looks of things, Vance guessed that she was debating her answer. He was patient as she put it together, not moving a muscle, his saber coming back to a rest. The paranoia in him screamed to get ready, to take a step back, to hold his saber, to prepare for a fight, to signal the security around to train guns on her. This was Nar Shadda; no one, not even the Jedi, came here to do things that were "good". It didn't matter if she was the patron saint of some religion; if she was here, she was up to something!

No. No, he wouldn't do any of that. Damnit all, Vance refused to let what faith he had left die.

Then came her answer. "Corellia..." For a moment, Vance remained unchanged, clearly taking a moment himself to process. When he was sure that they were playing the same game, that she'd answered his question...

The effect was immediate. The tension in his shoulders evaporated in an instant as he slumped, smiling lightly. His presence shifted from terse and investigative to relaxed and welcoming, radiating the relief sweeping through him. He still had no idea why she was here on the moon, what her business was, but...

Even the worst business of the Jedi Order couldn't compete with what he could imagine.

"Thelonious Arkandri." Extending a hand, Vance looked downright cordial, his expression far more relaxed. Her confident, almost challenging gaze was met with curiosity, the grey Jedi examining his would-be peer with a far more lighthearted inquisiton than before. He no longer needed to know what she was; now he wanted to. "Most people just call me 'Thel'."

"I'm a consultant for the hotel." A fancy way of saying that the hotel was run by a group, and he worked for that group. Hopefully that would make his actual job title fairly clear without saying too much. "They typically only call me when something awful happens, and, well..." Looking around, he sighed lightly. These sorts of things had bothered him at the start, but as time had gone on, he'd become accustomed to how the underworld worked. Nowadays, it was less the events that bothered him and more his developed apathy.

"I don't suppose you've ever worked with law enforcement or security companies, have you?" She was a Jedi Knight incognito on the underworld capital of the galaxy. She must have had some experience with this sort of thing, right?

[Moonfire]

Tension rippled in the air like electricity, snapping and crackling between the two force users in measured rumbles. The purse at her shoulder felt heavy, weighed down by hilt within, as blue eyes forced themselves to peer direct and ready for any change in his aura. Short fingers held still, statute like as the all the suspicion and distrust seemed to melt away.

The relief was palpable, a wash-- no a wave of release that slipped from shoulders head to toe as every tight muscle relaxed into something nearly friendly. In a momentary lapse Moonfire beamed, small straight teeth visible as the professional expression burst into girlish glee.

And all at once Iris returned, fingers moving to brush a stray bit of dark hair from her face back behind her ear as a little shake of her head took rookie jedi back to experienced and well-put together. Arms crossed lightly beneath her chest as she took in the refreshingly casual pleasantries of the consultant.

“Pleasure meeting you, Thel.” Her own tone remained that crisp Coruscanti formality despite their new understanding-- At least, she rather hoped they were on the same page. It was always hard to tell when one communicated the truth predominantly in lies and flickers of an unseen emotionally charged mysticism. His question about her prior work experience brought another grin to her face, quickly stamped down into what might be in certain lights more a smirk.

Reaching into jacket pocket Moonfire withdrew a single small, silvered case. Popping it open, nearly dropping it in the process, the young woman withdrew a rather flash business card-- featuring not only a small holo of a blaster that spun lazily across the surface, but incredibly clean minimalist design. It read in small, but easy to read aurabesh--

Iris Marth. Corporate Security Officer. Adega Airships

“If you give it a little shake, it’ll show you my comm info and a picture of me.” Moonfire babbled despite herself as she quickly shut the little business card case she’d purchased exactly for these sort of operations. Sure, it was a little extra but the devaronian was in the details.

[Fromikeable]

Vance was happier than he would say to see the woman's genuine reaction of relief. Regardless of where she was from or what she was doing, that tore it; she wasn't a murderous psychopath. Just someone with Force training and the desire to use it for the common good.

He would admire that, if only he had any idea as to anything beyond her intentions.

Taking the business card, Vance wiggled it in the sunlight, watching the holographic printing shine as it switched between her credentials and a professional headshot. His brows raised for a moment, smiling a bit as he seemed to genuinely enjoy the design. "Swanky. I'm a fan of the color scheme." Lingering on it for another moment, Vance finally blinked, his expression going neutral as the sounds of extinguishers and a hose being turned off caught his attention.

His face seemed to harden a little then, reminded of the reality that brought them together today. Pocketing her card, he cleared his throat a little. "In that case, give me a hand?" Waving a hand at her as signal to follow, "Thel" made his way out of the lobby to the now-extinguished husk of the van speeder, security personal around it beginning to put away fire-fighting equipment. As such, the van was a hot, wet, foam-covered mess, still smoking from the inferno that had consumed it.

"This pulled up before the explosion." Pointing at the blown-out side, he rolled his finger. "Obviously it had a bomb inside, but beyond that, no one's told me a thing." Experimentally touching the wall of the speeder, Vance's fingers quickly recoiled from the heat, causing him to suck in some air and shake out his hand. Carefully placing his foot inside, he made sure not to bring his skin into contact with the ruined vehicle again as he peered in.

The van contained little that had survived. A formerly chic interior had been blown to pieces before being burnt to a crisp, small splotches of incinerated shag carpeting and wooden wall panels only remaining glued to their spots by extinguishing foam. The remnants of the bomb (scarp metal and singe marks, really) could be seen emanating from the center, and at the rear near the back door, black bones laid scattered...

... including an absolutely ruined hand melted into the handle of the back door. Trying it as quick as he could, Vance hummed.

"It's locked." Walking up to the driver door and passenger doors, he peered at their indicators, wiping soot off each.

"So are the doors up front." Peering back at the hand, he squatted for a moment, his brow knitting in thought.

"We're looking at either a suicide bomber or some poor idiot that didn't know what job they were signing up for." Could the speeder have been locked remotely? Or was it a case of incompetence? Nothing ruled out the suicide angle, technically, but...

"Nar Shadda's a dark place, don't get me wrong, but..." Turning around, Vance started looking under the console of the speeder for... anything. A transmitter. A communicator. Even just an errant wire.

"Even the underworld frowns on extremism." The Exchange and the Hutts hadn't gotten as powerful as they had by terrorizing everyone.

[Moonfire]

“Thank you!” Moonfire replied perhaps a tad too loudly. Pulling a fist to her lips the young woman coughed twice, brushing away the more excitable aspects of her personality before devoting herself to the scene much like Thel had. It was time to be serious after all, crimes had been committed.

”In that case, give me a hand?”

Nodding twice in response the Jedi followed the short, yet welcoming tilts of his head and hands. The man had an air of experience to him, something she found admirable as she trailed after singed and tattered jacket. Thel’s manner, easy going and matter of fact, led her believe he wasn’t your average consultant. If anything he reminded her of Locke, all facial scruff and familiar hand gestures. His abilities with the force were still suspect, but he at least seemed on the right side of this incident. Some semblance of charm didn't hurt his case either.

"We're looking at either a suicide bomber or some poor idiot that didn't know what job they were signing up for."

“His hand’s still clinging to the handle. A man that knows he’s going to die usually isn’t desperate for escape...I don’t think he knew at all.” Pulling out her datapad Moonfire scanned the area, the click of a camera’s shutter capturing the blackened wreckage in still photos as she followed the dark haired man to the van itself. It stank sickly sweet and acrid, the noxious stench of explosive death churned at stomach. “Brutal.”

Like Coruscant after the invasion, that lingering taste of mortality brought bile to sit in the back of your throat. Swallowing down the wretched feelings Moonfire brushed away her panicked and dramatic thoughts. She wasn't some junior detective, she was handling an emergency situation. She had training and know how.

“Do you have access to the hotel’s security footage?” Moonfire asked between snaps of her camera, eyes picking out the tell-tale gleam of a lens. One. Two. Maybe three? Two had been clearly in the blast radius of whatever poor soul was melted into the speeder’s back, but at least one had to have seen something.

Quirking an eyebrow at his comment about extremism Moonfire gave an agreeable nod, eyes catching his disheveled again before posing her next question. “So you think this was a personal hit? Some sort of gang warfare or an isolated incident?”

[Fromikeable]

”Yeah, we can go check it…” Pausing mid-sentence, Vance’s face contorted into an expression of focus as his hand went diving into a hole on the console. Rooting around the interior by touch, he was silent for a minute before his expression lit up, seemingly finding what he was looking for. Sure enough, his hand emerged holding a tiny radio beacon, the wire that it connected too a charred mess.

”Right now.” She was right, though. Suicide bombers didn’t claw at the walls of their bomb with their dying breaths. This poor sap, whoever they had been, clearly hadn’t gotten the memo that they weren’t supposed to survive their trip to the hotel.

The question then became, of course, who killed this person and why.

”I don’t know if it was personal. A lot of gang activity around here isn’t. Bad for business, in the long run.” The Exchange didn’t typically run on personal grudges and vendettas, electing instead to operate more as a giant business. Vance could think of a few people Lidah personally loathed that she’d made numerous deals with. It was a good marker between organizations that could expand past little corners of cities and galactic crime syndicates.

With that said, there was always at least one person only in the game to settle some score.

”I’d also bet it wasn’t isolated.” His eyes flicked down at the bullet holes in his shirt, which made it sort of hard to believe that this was a coincidence.

Hopping out of the van, Vance led Mooney to the smoking remains of the welcome desk. Moving through a door behind it, the two dove through some offices until coming to a door marked “SECURITY” in big bold letters. As Vance swung it open, a few Exchange security personnel greeted them by reaching for their guns, stopping once they saw “Thel’s” face. Their hands hesitated until a motion from Vance indicated that “Iris” was with him.

From there, they were sitting before a cadre of monitors, Vance typing in the day’s date and the time to be around 30 minutes ago. Finding the proper file (and doing his best to avoid the more sensitive ones), he hit play and watched.

The van pulled up around 5 minutes before the explosion. A Duro woman drove it, her shirt offensively neon green. Beside it, a Zeltron woman walked up, her skin a light shade of pink, a backpack sported across one shoulder. Patting a hand on the driver-side window, she seemed to say something to the driver, who smiled and waved her off. As the Zeltron disappeared off-frame, the Duro woman disappeared into the back of the van.

A minute later, the speeder lost power, dropping like a stone to the ground. The Duro woman came rushing back up to the front seat, scurrying at the doors. With every passing second, she seemed to become more terrified, abandoning both of the front doors 2 minutes before the explosion. As people began to gather at the sight of her distress, the last image the camera caught was the beginning of the explosion, the would-be good samaritans in various states of engulfment by the flames.

Sighing lightly, Vance rested his chin on his hand. Moving the footage back to the Zeltron woman and the Duro woman talking, he pointed at the screen. ”So we have an accomplice…” He held up the radio transmitter. ”... and we have a radio signal.”

[Moonfire]

Tucking a stray strand of dark hair back into place Moonfire followed him, skimming across the various corridors and offices that read Employee’s Only. There was something sort of queer about perusing off-limits areas, even in something as mundane as a Nar Shaddaa hotel. Industrial, functional spaces lacking the grandeur of the former lobby.

Large laundry service rooms stacked with white, bright linens. Tearful, whispered conversations between employees. Waves of negative emotions filtered through the air palpable and thick making it all feel oddly intimate. Like they were intruders somewhere private.

In all reality, she probably was. The wave of security’s guns reminding her resolutely of that. With Thel’s blessing of course, Moonfire slipped right in before the wall of monitors, standing stiffly before them as blue eyes settled on each one in turn, comparing the angles to her own limited view from the van. Live feeds streamed more than just the hotel itself, but the entirety of the block the hotel stood on.

In the distance curlicues of smoke rose up above the buildings. The streets still teemed with people, bustling too and fro if a tad more frantic and off-kilter than Moonfire’s previous visits to the Smuggler’s Moon. Eyes narrowing to the settling commotion in the neighborhood’s restaurant district the woman tapped a short-clipped nail to the screen. “Forgive any rudeness on my part, Mr. Akandri, but am I wrong in suspecting you had something to do with whatever that is?”

The state of his clothing and casual demeanor gave her fairly good idea that whatever happened was most definitely not an isolated incident. Hopefully he trusted her enough to tell her whether those fresh blaster burns in his shirt were related or not.

Looming closer to the screen’s Moonfire watched the scene play out. Air-van arrives, one decidedly not of the Adega Airship’s line, two women casually chat before getting to work. The Zeltron wanders off screen just in time to leave the Duros woman to her death. It all made Moonfire’s stomach sink. Such cruel efficiency.

“May I see that transmitter?” Pulling back out her datapad Moonfire, quickly withdrawing an info-chit to place with little fanfare into the security console. Within moments she’d copied the footage, uploading it to her datapad with another quick insertion of the chit, her face stoney as she settled down before the little work-station. A quick inspection brought a small, sly smile to the young woman’s face. “I think with a couple of repairs I might be able to trace the signal. Why don’t we see where our accomplice ended up?”

Opening up her shoulder bag Moonfire withdrew a small, but sleekly stylish cyber-technician on-the-go kit, popping open the clasp with a brush of her thumb. A few multi-tool zaps and key-strokes across her datapad later she’d repaired the transmitter, fried partly from the explosion, enough to latch onto it’s original signal, a little blip appearing on her datapad’s map of the over-city.

“There we are… Might not be the Zeltron, but I’m willing to bet whoever set off the bomb and killed the van’s power knows something about her.” The girl turned, mouth set in a wide grin. Good job, kid. You’re not completely useless.

[Fromikeable]

The tapping nail on the screen made Vance's eyes shift to the side for a second, his mind clearly racing to come up with an answer. It was damning evidence; the frozen video was showing the a series of explosions in the distant sky, a small smudge of pixels moving downward toward the skyline. From the image alone, it was hard to deduce, but Vance could still practically hear that starfighter crashing into the street.

"Like I said, this probably wasn't isolated." Rolling his shoulders, he cleared his throat lightly. "It's been an interesting morning." That was as much as he was willing to say to someone he'd just met. This "Iris" seemed a good sort, but without knowing exactly what her motivations were, loose lips could prove a dangerous thing indeed.

At her request, Vance held up the transmitter. He opened his mouth to say that he could fix it with a few minutes of work, but by the time the first word formed, it was already gone, the woman setting to work with her own personal tools. Who exactly was she? On the one hand, she seemed to fit the bill her business card had written; cool, calm, collected, and totally prepared to swing from relaxing in her hotel room to crawling through a bombed-out van at a moment's notice. On the other hand, she wasn't that simple. Between her defensiveness earlier, the look of zeal she'd had on her face when he'd liked her card, and now this almost proud grin as she held out the fixed transmitter, she had a passion for what she was doing, confident in the face of the unknown, the horrible, and the ugly. It almost reminded Vance of Lidah, of that strange, unflappable drive to progress regardless of personal emotion.

Vance caught himself staring at her face, blinking his way back into conscious thought. "Uh... nicely done." Looking at her datapad, he read the map for a moment, drawing a line with his finger from the hotel to the location. Sure enough, his suspicions were confirmed. "Looks like they didn't have much range. This is only a few blocks over." Getting up from his chair, he produced his comm, linking it to the security terminal and saving the footage before nodding.

"I'll take that bet. Let's go see how this deals out." Cringing a little at his own pun, Vance chuckled, waving at her to follow again. Exiting the way they'd came, the crime scene was already being cleaned by rather heavily-armed "hotel staff", the lot of them working to stabilize structures and clear debris. As the moved toward the street, the same man from earlier, Laruso, came pacing over.

"Wounded are in medical care, hotel's secured, but the radio's still blaring." Eyeing "Iris", the hotel's security manager seemed to freeze up a bit, suddenly not so forthcoming. "What's our plan?"

"You guys get on damage control and keep your ears peeled. Ms. Marth and I are going to get to the bottom of this." About to continue on, Vance stopped short. "Oh, by the way, do you guys have an emerald wine in stock?"

Laruso blinked. "Uh... I don't think so?"

"Call me if you do." Leaving the Twi'lek with a perplexed expression, Vance strode back over to his borrowed speeder, unlocking it and sliding into the driver's seat. As soon as his companion was in, he fired their ride up, the radio humming to life with idle funk tunes as they rose into the air.

"Are they moving?" Vance nodded at the holopad. Smart bombers would be bugging out regardless of how they thought things went. But given the simultaneous attack, maybe their targets were feeling cocky.

[Moonfire]

“Thanks!” Ruddy pinkness touched the woman’s cheeks at the praise, face nearly glowing in response before turning almost stiffly back away. Too many years desperate for the approval and recognition of her peers and mentor left her a bit too eager to show off, something even a year into knighthood she found difficult to brush off. Heart shaped face turned back to the datapad, the little blip of the radio signal accompanied by a steady little beep. The signal wasn’t particularly strong here, but still within range. Certainly close enough for them to set off the bomb from a safe distance, despite the disorder in the Nar Shaddaa streets earlier.

"I'll take that bet. Let's go see how this deals out."

“After you,” Packing away her tools, Moonfire slung the bag back up and over her shoulders pleased to see Thel intended to include her on the next leg of their investigation. She didn’t question how easily the consultant, who she suspected to be working for the Cart-Change-Suns or some such, agreed to her presence in whatever inter-gang Nar Shaddaa politics was playing here. She’d thus far proven some level of altruism and a nosiness supplemented by being vaguely useful. The Jedi Corporate Security Officer didn’t argue or press the point either way as she followed him down to his quick meeting with the various staffers already cleaning up the remains of the van and clearing out the hotel lobby.

Her eyes wandered in that time, inspecting the various blaster burns and debris still clinging to the jacket. Thel had clearly been involved in whatever shenanigans went on earlier that morning-- starfighters falling from the sky? Perfectly average sort of thing on Nar Shaddaa, Moonfire had been reassured. Hopefully he’d feel like sharing what exactly they were dealing with in the car.

Sliding easily in beside him Moonfire whipped out the datapad, the little blip on her map having shifted, if only a few blocks. That wasn’t terribly surprising, all the damage to the city no-doubt was having an effect on traffic patterns-- Not that the people of Nar Shaddaa kept much stock in neat and orderly skylanes.

“They’re heading north pretty slowly…” A single finger outstretched away from the smoking wreckage of the restaurant district. “Double or nothing, they’re trying to blend in with the crowds leaving the neighborhood.”

Lifting her head up to beam a wide grin at the man beside her Moonfire’s short-clipped nails tapped along the edge of her datapad. This was all terribly exciting. Chasing bad guys! Explosions! Maybe her mission on Nar Shaddaa wouldn’t be so bad after all? “Wanna try and cut them off?”

[Fromikeable]

Glancing over at Mooney's holopad every few seconds, Vance was generous with the accelerator, their vehicle quickly zipping through the air with a telltale screech. That they were so close was suspicious; anyone with a few bucks could pick up a transmitter that could communicate between different ends of the galaxy. Even if they wanted to stick to low latency, untraceable sources, why not go with a longer range basic radio?

No, there was more going on here than an amateurish bombing.

As they came upon the signal, however, Vance mulled his answer to Mooney’s expanded bet with a hum. Opening the windows, he leaned his head out, a line of scrambling, barely-organized, traffic-jammed speeders below them slowly inched away from the moon’s two newest warzones.

”It’d be their safest bet." Glancing at the tracker on the datapad, Vance made a few trading glances between the traffic jam and the screen, trying to pinpoint exactly which speeder they were after. Narrowing it down to a small group, he finally nodded. "Let's see what happens..." Maneuvering their ride down toward the slow procession, Vance did his best to angle them for the group in question. Some speeders stopped entirely, some attempted to make room for them to merge, and others suddenly sported angry drivers leaning out windows and yelling profanities, clearly angry at the idea of them entering the pattern at all.

Rolling down the windows, Vance leaned out, scouring the faces of their fellow travelers. His presence focused in, beginning to scan the occupants of each speeder with quick, if not precise, scrutiny. Figuring out which had their woman would only tak-

A purple speeder suddenly lurched up and out of the traffic jam, skyrocketing toward them. It was all Vance could do to veer them to the side, the incoming speeder graving the driver-side door as it tried to gain some distance. Hitting the accelerator, Vance gave chase, their quarry zipping over the skyline for a moment before ducking back into the streets, clearly trying to lose them.

”It’s her!” Locking onto hers, Vance flew almost more by sense than by sight, failing to lose the purple speeder as it tried to curve around corners and across skyways. Their speeder screeched with effort as it gave chase, both of the vehicles kicking up dust and wind below them. Even with this chaos, it was easy to identify the Zeltron woman. Her presence flickered wildly with excitement, borderline jubilation, like she was thrilled to be found and chased.

”An adrenaline junkie! Wonderful!” Making sure the windows were still down, he subdued the urge to point out the windshield, not daring to take either hand off the controls right now. ”When you’ve got a clear shot, try for her engine!”

[Moonfire]

Nar Shaddaa’s traffic patterns were rather orderly despite the excitement of the day, starfighters falling from the sky, goon invasions, mandalorian rains and hotel explosions did little to sway the Smuggler’s Moon’s residents from their usual routines-- Save the slightest bit of traffic, people were behaving rather business as usual. It was almost admirable. Moonfire was half considering how terribly convenient it’d be to mount her datapad on the inside of the speeder while Vance was driving-- Hadn’t she seen a late night infomerical for that?-- to help aid their little scavenger hunt. Shuffling the tablet in hand she watched with great interest as they slowed to shift through the consciousness here.

While Moonfire kept a careful reign on her own force presence, she could feel the way he brushed himself against the spirit of the traffic jam, a slightly invasive but all together not unsettling thing. Flares of emotions flickered like candle-light, a mother with her children-- And sudden, wild, unrestrained joy.

Moonfire hardly had time to process what was happened before their skycar swerved hard to avoid the ramming of the purple speeder, Vance’s declaration ringing in her ears as the datapad threatened to slip from her small hands. Scrambling to look at the blip on her holomap, the insistent almost screechy beep of the tracer honing in on the signal’s source, she had only just confirmed it was her when the loud scrap of metal to metal mid-air jostled the pair with a yelp of surprise from the petite jedi as she knocked into the door with a hard thwack of her shoulder and fresh wave of nerves.

Oh my Force, that woman was trying to kill them.

I mean, obviously she was going to try to kill them. She’d locked someone in a van before bombing a civilian hotel, obviously slamming her speeder into her pursuers wasn’t far up the totem pole there, but still-- You rarely saw this in the white collar criminals on Coruscant. Fresh waves of jittering tingles vibrated in the dark-haired woman’s ears as hand moved for her blaster, steady and practiced. “On it!”

Gripping a hand to the inside edge of the door, Moonfire worked her way out of the window, long braid beginning to whip in the highspeed winds as every jerking twist and turn of the speeder threatened to toss her out. A twisting grip of the Force, one very perceptible no doubt to her companion, worked to hold her steady. Legs planting hard against the sloped flooring as faux expertise forced her blaster forward.

Damn good thing you left the heels in the room, Mooney.

“Get me a little closer!” The first few shots blasted darkened marks against the shiny ostentatious hull of the speeder, sizzling but not quite piercing the steel there. The more delicate engines proving to be just out of range as the Zeltron swerved to avoid them, nearly entering another lane of traffic in maniacal glee. Moonfire’s next shot struck just above the engine, missing it by the narrowest of margins. “Almost--”

Shifting more the young woman practically hung from the window, hand and the Force clamped tight like a seatbelt as she strained to fire twice. Striking the engine once, the purple speeder swerved hard, slamming the back end into the very nose of their own speeder before jettisoning off through a series of haphazard barriers. Another yelp of surprise and fresh wave of nerves was choked down by duty and adrenaline, nails threatening to break as iron grip kept her from tumbling out of the moving vehicle.

“She’s gunning for the restaurant district!” Moonfire shouted, arm moving against the wind and the hard wild turn of Vance’s driving to steady her aim. The purple speeder, bobbing unsteadily now but unlikely deccelerate, proved too difficult a target for a half-baked Jedi in a moving vehicle. Tossing the blaster back into the abandoned seat blue eyes met for only the briefest moment before Moonfire twisted back through the window and reached an empty hand out into the air.

“I’ve got it-- I’ve got it-- I’ve got it.” For the first time in their afternoon together, Moonfire’s presence in the Force unfolded itself fully. If there had been any doubt in Vance’s mind before now to her alignment and affiliation, it would be washed away in a breath of fresh pure air. A grip worked it’s way through the Force, mirroring some her hold on the inside of the speeder before wrapping purposefully about the internal workings of the speeder’s craggy engine.

With a single hard close of her fist and wrench backward the engine burst in a shower of sparks.

[Fromikeable]

The Zeltron woman drove like a bat out of hell, literally crashing through streets and sky ways like they were made of styrofoam. It was all Vance could to keep from following her lead as she drifted into speeders, crashed through signs, poles, and advertisements, and even took a shortcut through a small corner store to make her turn a little tighter.

She's insane. The woman clearly didn't have a single iota of care for the world around her. Vance could think of a big stone temple on a desert planet where she'd fit right in.

Bolts flying forward caught his intention, glancing to the side to see "Iris" hanging out of the window and doing her damnedest to shoot. At her command, he floored the accelerator harder than he had been, running a gambit in trying to get them closer. It was hard going without taking the same "routes" as the madwoman, but second by second, they crept closer, their range shrinking from hundreds of meters to dozens. The purple speeder seemed none too thrilled as a shot nailed it just above the engines, its finer movements becoming jerky and erratic. It slowed almost immediately, rear-ending them even as Vance was veering to avoid before trying to regain its distance. Vance wouldn't let-

"She’s gunning for the restaurant district!” Tossing her gun back in, Vance caught Mooney's eyes as he yelled back. "This will get ugly with that many pedestrians around!" If the woman's behavior was putting people in danger now, then with that many people on sidewalks and in storefronts, with that many families and groups around...

Mooney already seemed to get that. Vance could feel her presence finally come out as her hand reached out, watching as it directed the flow of the Force toward the engines. He couldn't help but smile a little as the flow suddenly compressed, the speeder lurching drastically as sparks flew out of it like rain.

That was more like it.

The smile was gone as soon as it appeared as Vance slammed the airbreaks, their speeder lurching as their target sank toward the ground like a rock dropped from a cliff. As the crashing Zeltron threatened to collide with a storefront, Vance's own hand came up to push a small pocket of clutched air from one side to the other, the speeder immediately redirecting as if it had bounced off an invisible wall. A clutch of his fingers made the vehicle lurch one last time as it came upon the ground, slowing tremendously, almost to a stop. It landed with a slam instead of a fireball, as it dropped from only a few meters up in the air instead of the skylane.

Turning to "Iris" to announce their success, he blinked at the sight of only her legs and the inside of her skirt. By the time she was back in the cab of the speeder, she would find him particularly focused on the matter of parking, his cheeks red as he declared a strangely staunch, "Yep, you got it." Their speeder landed seconds later, prompting him to eject himself and return to the matter at hand, donning his sunglasses anew.

Settling at an angle in the middle of the street, the purple speeder smoked idly as if parked by a haphazard arsonist. Within, hands could be seen beating against tinted windows, the doors clearly inoperable. Focusing in, Vance could practically see the woman through the car. When she set to scramble for something in the center console as they drew near, he could already tell what it was, her presence flashing with rage and panic.

Holding up an open palm, the object in question came crashing out of the driverside window; a small stowaway blaster, no doubt including two bolts with their names on them. Shaking his head, he got his first good look at their perpetrator; a borderline violet Zeltron woman wearing something between a bewildered grin and a terrified scowl, her chest rising and falling a thousand times a minute with raw adrenaline. She scowled at them both scornfully, but her smile almost made it seemed like she'd only lost a game, that she was already trying to plan out how she'd win the next round.

Looking at his partner through his shades, Vance idly shook the blaster. With her presence free, his felt bold enough to tap it and relay a short, courteous mental message, clearly trying not to offend what was clearly prone to hiding.

Good cop, bad cop? They certainly already looked the part. Here he was in a shot-up shirt and a black jacket while she stood there in professional attire fit for a boardroom. The Zeltron woman seemed to want to gloat and yell at the same time; between the two of them, she'd get to do both, and let slip everything she had to say.

[Moonfire]

The slightest knock reverberated in Moonfire’s skull, a little tap to alert her of the words of her newfound friend. The ghost of a smile flicked at the corner of her lips as she gave a firm, pleased nod. She’d always wanted to do something like this-- Sure, it was out of her jurisdiction, but she couldn’t help but feel the little thrill of excitement that flushed her cheeks.

Good cop, bad cop.

With affirmation in hand, Vance suppressed a smile of his own, his hand grabbing the handle of the now-crumpled speeder’s driver door. Pulling firmly, the door only opened after a hard clunk and an unhappy screech, warped metal giving way to force. As the door flipped open, the sounds were replaced by laughter.

Mad, almost terrified laughter interspersed with gasps for air. ”You Jedi really know how to show a girl a good time.”

Vance didn’t respond, instead grabbing her by the neck of her shirt and lifting her out of the wreck. Placing her on her feet, he didn’t let go until he was behind her, twisting her arms with a firm grip until she was almost leaning forward from the strain.

”Shut up and walk.” Vance did his best to let his voice go as low in tone as it could. As it turned out, that was fairly low. Without another word, Vance was wrapping her hands together behind her back with a zip tie from his pocket, pushing her toward their speeder. Popping one of the back doors open, he shoved her inside without a care, slamming the door behind her. Returning to the driver’s seat, he offered a wink at Mooney behind his shades.

Unable to see through the darkened glass, Moonfire missed the conspiratorial wink the man offered her, but the energy between them crackled with anticipation as she slipped back into the speeder, straightening her skirt and holstering her blaster once more. This was the most exciting day she’d ever had and a quick check of her chronometer (confirmed by a grumble of her stomach) had confirmed it was only a few minutes past dinner-time.

With a few minutes of travel, they were walking into a room with a single window at the top floor of an Exchange safehouse a few blocks away, the door locking behind them. Giving the Zeltron a final shove, Vance broke out one final zip tie to attach her wrists to the chair she stumbled into, securing her as their prisoner.

With that, he pulled up a chair for himself, sitting in it back-to-front. The dark-haired woman stood for a moment, wondering if she’d look more intimidating at her full, rather unimpressive, height. Deciding that no matter what she did Moonfire would be dwarfed by her companion, she might as well be comfortable. Sitting primly the woman leaned forward, fingers knit together.

“Your name, Miss?”

Whatever adrenaline high the Zeltron had been riding before seemed to lax, the heave of barking mad laughter replaced with a sense of harried impatience. Fingers twitched across the durasteel tabletop, knee bounced at her side as the magenta woman’s wild eyes flicked to Moonfire’s face with a crazed grin. Shifting some the Zeltron rocked forward to the very edge of her seat, appraising her captors before speaking.

“What? No cigarettes or coffee first?” She barked, her voice still holding a husky edge even after she’d calmed. “Not gonna wine and dine me before you Exchange fuckos off me?”

“Would you like coffee or cigarettes, Miss?” Moonfire’s brow arched cleanly, head tilting to the armed guards at the door. A single gesture communicated her thoughts and within moments a less-than-fresh but still warm cup appeared. The cigarette pack came from Moonfire’s own jacket pocket, sterling silver lighter in hand. They were untouched, a detail in Moonfire’s cover she hadn’t quite been able to play out. Damnable lungs. Extending her peaceful offering the woman tilted her head to her companion. “I suppose introductions are in order-- I’m Iris and this is Thel.”

Moonfire avoided the topic of her involvement with Exchange fuckos cleanly. She’d allowed the Zeltron to make any conclusions she wanted to her and Mr. Arkandri’s allegiances. “Cutting to the chase-- Pun unintended-- We’ve recently reviewed some security footage concerning the explosion at Corellian Savoir Inn, we have reason to believe you were directly involved.”

“I know who the fuck Thel is, you though--” The lit cigarette bobbed slightly in the purple-haired maven’s hand, gesturing over the jedi’s figure. “The fuck kinda homeschool ass bull-shit is this? An interrogation? You gonna slap some cuffs on me here soon, or can we just skip to the part where you break my legs because this isn’t some fuckin’ holodrama.”

”Breaking legs? Pft.” With a flick of his wrist, Vance ushered her chair up into the air, hovering her up at just a slow enough pace to induce a bit of vertigo. “Miss” hardly seemed to mind, her feed swaying a bit in their newfound freedom as she huffed a harsh laugh. “I had heard you were one of those types, but I didn’t believe it unti-”

Vance didn’t bother to let to let her finish her sentence, flicking his wrist again. Without warning, the chair was suddenly rushing out the room’s window, which opened just in time to let the furniture and its occupant go soaring out into the air beyond. Screaming could be heard from their newest friend as she plummeted toward the street below, though whether it was joyous or terrified was hard to say. Either way, as she came scant inches from the pavement, she halted to a dead stop, her hair being the only part of her to meet the street.

With another flick of the wrist, she was soaring back up to the window at just the same speed, coming crashing to a stop on a rattling chair. Dazed, the Zeltron’s head lulled a bit as adrenaline dulled her senses, her heart racing too quickly for her to speak.

Vance got up from his chair and finally took off his jacket, revealing the battle-tested shirt from the day’s earlier endeavors. Pocketing his shades, he walked over, grabbing a fistful of the woman’s hair and facing her up at Moonfire.

”Try again.”

With a semi-cognizant expression, the Zeltron smiled like she’d just taken a dose of her favorite time-waster. ”Lynnorri Vale.” Trying to catch her breath, she gagged, threatening to puke on herself as she kept talking. ”Do that again?”

”You only get to stop once.” Lifting her chair up again, the woman seemed to become far more awake at the prospect of a one-way trip, her dazed joy being overridden by sheer survival instinct. As Vance made a long point of lining her up with the window, she seemed to find her tongue’. ”H-hey! Jedi aren't supposed to make threats like that!”

Vance just mocked out a tiny smirk, floating her closer toward the window.

Cool and aloof as ever, Moonfire didn’t betray the twist of her guts watching the panic flicker across Lynnorri’s face. It was a harsh method, but effective. Something she understood, especially in such circumstances, but it never made her feel particularly warm and fuzzy. But for all of Moonfire’s squeamishness-- Iris Marth was chilled. Bored even by such threats. Inspecting her neatly manicured nails the dark-haired woman lifted her head back up, brow quirked.

“Miss Vale, was it? My associate here is, as I’m sure you know, employed by the hotel’s… owners.” Moonfire’s fingers tapped across the tabletop as she shifted. “And you’re right, they’re all for us giving you a one way trip to the citywalk outside-- But, you seem like a reasonable person to me.” An offered hand expressed how this was most certainly untrue, but could be changed in the future. A hand slid back to her datapad, pulling up a freeze-frame from the security footage, the rodian woman about to climb into the back of the van. A nail click-clacked across the screen. “So, why don’t you tell me a little bit her?”

The nail swiped again, flicking once to show the next image. This one lacked the grainy quality of the security port-- Freshly taken from the scene. Dark blackened bone and soot, fused to the handle. Another swiped showed more. One picture after the next of a dozen angles of the zeltron’s victim associate. “She clawed at the door before you blew her up, you know? She spent her last moments terrified, knowing what was going to happen. Can you imagine what that must have been like?”

Moonfire’s presence remained close and tight, the influence of her emotions, the horror of the situation curling and writhing in the pit of her stomach, remained muted. There was no reason to use her abilities, her influence over the Force, to impress the guilt. “What’s her name, Lynnorri?”

The zeltron stared at the pictures with wide eyes, visibly shaking a bit as the chair finally drifted far enough back for the legs to knock against the window frame. Scrambling in the floating seat, the woman finally started to panic, her voice a pitch higher thanks to urgency. ”Urlanda! Urlanda Yatto” As if on cue, the chair immediately stopped moving, halting right up against the open window.

”Why did you kill her?”

”I couldn’t let her squeal to the Hutts! They would’ve killed me!”[/b]

”Then why are you pissing off the Hutts?”

”I can’t s-” The chair leaned back another degree, causing her legs to flail in greater panic. ”It was a set-up! I don’t know why, I was just paid to make it seem like it was them!”

”By?”

”I don’t know!” Vance raised a brow in disbelief, prompting her to speak far quicker. ”I swear to the gods, I don’t have the slightest idea! They contacted me over the holonet, paid me in advance, and programmed their instructions to auto-delete!” Panting lightly, the zeltron woman’s hair swept over her eyes as she tried desperately to think of anything else.

”Memento! They said they worked for Memento! Or-or-or… they were after Memento?” She groaned in frustration, clearly distressed by her own memory. ”I don’t remember, I didn’t think it mattered!”

Blinking back surprise Moonfire tried to conceal her interest, the flash of her blue eyes betraying her inexperience. Memento was behind this? Or at least somewhat involved. Curious and curiouser.

The chair immediately dropped back to the floor, causing its passenger to gasp in relief. Finally dropping his hand, Vance walked forward and closed the window by hand, locking it with a click. Patting the woman’s shoulder, he looked over at Mooney, his brow still raised above his shades.

Doesn’t look like she’s lying. Not so far as I can tell.

Moonfire gave a nod, pulling back some level of aloof detachment again as she slipped her datapad back into her bag, letting Vance finish up rounding up their confession.

”Here’s what’s going to happen then.” Reaching his hand down to the twist ties, Vance undid them both, freeing Lynnorri. As she rubbed her wrists in shock, he leaned forward, peeling off his shades and staring her in the eye.

”You’re going to get off the moon before nightfall. You’re not going to come back.” When she nodded quickly, he replaced his shades, moved over to the door, and opened it. As she looked on in suspicion, Vance nodded at the hallway beyond.

“Leave your comm and datapad.” Moonfire interrupted, tapping the tabletop as she moved to collect her things, watching the wily look in the zeltron’s eye. Lynnorri complied easily, all but throwing the contents of her slim-fit pockets to the tabletop in a heap. Within seconds they were tossed into Moonfire’s own bag, she’d spend the evening prowling through them for her own investigations.

”Maybe get work as a stuntwoman. You’ll live longer.” Lynnorri barely heard him as she sprinted out of the room, seizing her chance to go on living. Moonfire’s neck arched to watch the magenta woman bolt past, watching a flash of purple hair disappear around a corner before turning back to Vance with an unrepressed grin.

“That was so cool! We actually-- Oh, gosh, I’ve never done anything like that before and you-- You! With the out the window thing! Oh, stars, Thel! That was-- That was really, really coo--” The flow of words, more a babble really, was quickly stopped by a cough. But the grin remained. Nope, Iris was going to have to take a back seat for a moment. “Thanks for letting me play.”

”My pleasure.” Rolling his shoulders, Thel finally melted away showing an exhausted Vance. On the one hand, he was glad that they’d gotten through this. Between his morning, the bombing, and the chase, he was absolutely exhausted, and his relief at the day finally being over showed. On the other hand… ugh. Sinking into the same interrogation chair, he slumped visibly. ”Thanks for playing along. This day was long enough already.”

Brushing away anything resembling formality, Moonfire chuckled, sinking back into the chair opposite him. Her feet hurt and her stomach grumbled. Maybe the hotel would still do room service? Or was that insensitive? That was probably insensitive.

“Hard days in the hotel consulting field, huh?” She smiled, tucking a wayward strand behind her ear once more before lifting up her bag. “I really am grateful to have helped out. I’ll be thoroughly checking through these devices, I can forward you anything noteworthy I find.”

“Thanks. And you have no idea.” Vance rubbed his eyes before running his hands through his hair, teasing out all of his curls and trying to wring out what little dust remained. Giving Mooney a warm smile as his eyes reopened, he couldn’t help but chuckle a little. ”I don’t know about you, but I just need a decent lunch by this point. Maybe a thick shake.”

“Oh, mannnnn…” Moonfire laughed, running a hand along her jaw. “I’d kill for a berry-shake and a bantha burger. Do you know anywhere good?” The tinkle of a comm went off, Moonfire slipping the piece from her bag to glance across the screen. “Actually, I might have to take a rain-check, as great as that sounds. Text me, and I’ll get back to you maybe tomorrow?”

”You got it.” Pulling out his comm, he was about to ask her for her number when he blinked, smiling widely. Reaching back into his pocket, he produced her business card in his other hand, wiggling it just enough to watch the holographic image switch between Iris’s name and face.

”You can tell me where I can get some of these made.”

((Co-written with Fromikeable <3 ))