Level 1267 Coruscant
“No matter who was in charge, Noir suspected, the cramped, dreary streets of Coruscant’s lower levels never changed. Homeless begging for morsels, drug dealers in every nook and cranny, and the only kids that could be seen were mere distractions for their pickpocketing friends.” The Cathar strode through the streets, weaving amidst the masses, ever wary of his surroundings.
Slipping off the main road into a nearby alley, Noir made his way to a side entrance to the local pub and thumbed the door activation stud. “Psh-ksh.” Entering the building, he quickly made his way to meet his contact, the bartender. “Clients?” Noir asked slipping credit chips across the counter. The bartender set a tumbler on the counter, swiping the credits in the process. “A local and two unknowns, wait in the second booth on the left, they’ll arrive shortly.” the bartender said as he finished making a Kyyyalstaad Fizz and poured it into the tumbler. Noir grasped his drink and made his way over to the booth. “The detective sat down sideways, one arm resting on the table. His gloved hand gently holding his drink, his eyes scanning the entrances, as he waited for his clientele to arrive.”
With crates and hovercarts strewn along the edges of what was barely large enough to be considered passable by anything other than foot traffic, crowds had to part aside to allow a speeder to pass. They shifted now without missing a beat, carrying on with haggling prices and focusing on their own business. A bulky figure several heads taller than the average joe and as wide as a passenger transport lumbered through the proffered opening.
The Herglic tugged at the hood of his oversized cloak with a a dark grey hand, keeping the brim pulled down just above his eyes. Paumgon Lfin looked over at the bent durasteel sign creaking outside of one storefront. A cantina. Halting outside the main entrance, he glanced to his side and uttered in a low, rumbling tone, “Here. Should be waiting inside. Supposed to be good, if a bit eccentric – whatever that means.”
The older mercenary pushed the door in and waited for the two smaller humanoids to enter first before ducking down and angling his shoulder to squeeze in after. Above their heads, he locked eyes with the bartender who nodded and resumed polishing a glass for the fifteenth time. Paum gestured towards the agreed upon booth where the lone Cathar sat.
Ignatius knew the meeting point well, a bar of some sort that he’d used before during his old snuggling days whenever he was unlucky enough to be sent to the lower levels of Coruscant.
As he followed the Herglic along the streets Ignatius couldn’t stop himself from shifting his eyes around, excepting someone to pounce on him. It wasn’t too long ago that he’d had an encounter with his brother, a fellow smuggler, who he’d not parted with on good terms.
Ignatius mentally slapped himself, knowing how suspicious he must look “get it together” he thought.
As the older mercenary pushed the door open, Ignatius saw the lone Cathar and with the nod of the bartender he made his way to the booth.
Edit: fixed grammatical errors
Level 1389 Coruscant
Not long ago she would have been observing this interaction as but a dot on a screen. A mote of flickering hololight projected in a cool command center on Ol’val with a mug of lukewarm caf beside her and the faint scent of ozone from the atmoscrubbers in her nose. Now it was all far more—tangible.
The air reeked of oil and durasteel, laced with the faint patina of biological refuse—the signature scent of Coruscant’s unwashed underbelly. The people were less numerous here than the surface, there simply wasn’t enough room to be otherwise, and yet the press of bodies was cloyingly visceral. She should have been used to that by now, but somehow the faceless hostility of the former capital world, a ecumenopolis of untold billions, bred its own distinct flavor of detachment in its inhabitants she found hard to ignore.
“Ze-nutta da woppa!” a stocky Dwuni spat in broken Hutteese as they passed, using the sharp edges of a storage crate to carve a path forward. Tali pressed herself against the corridor wall to let them through, inhaling sharply to narrowly avoid a cut across her belly, and shivered at the sensation of the slick-yet-tacky durasteel against her lekku.* Give me the tunnels of Ol’val over this any day.*
The thought that these were still the ‘civilized’ levels, and their true target was likely a few hundred further down, made her frown. Gravity and filth tended to have a rather inexorable symbiosis. Pulling her cloak around her in a flimsy barrier against her surroundings, she pressed on and headed for the turbolifts, the after-image of a premonition still seared into the back of her mind: Four bloody ones painted on slick durasteel.
Level 1267 Coruscant
“Eccentric, huh?” Behind the Herglic, a scarlet-skinned Zabrak stood in black robes and an armorweave cloak. She stood with an air of confidence that drew glances, but with a darkness that caused them to look away just as quickly. Her yellow eyes narrowed as she looked to the Cathar, then back to her friend. She thought to ask what he meant by ‘eccentric’, but assumed that she would learn quickly in the conversation with this contact.
She slid into the booth seat across from the Cathar and pulled back her hood. “You Noir?” she asked, getting straight to business.
“It was only a short wait before the door to the cantina opened. A large, dark grey hand held open the door as two individuals entered followed by another that dwarfed the two previous.” Noir took note. “The first to enter was a Human male, bearded but neatly groomed. Average height. His eyes scanned the environment with practiced ease before nodding to the bartender and making his way over to the booth. His companion slid in after and pulled her hood back revealing a Zabrak redder than the lava fields of Mustafar. Behind them came the giant. Noir had once seen a Herglic hurl a Bothan 6 meters with one hand, still… this one seemed to loom even larger than the one Noir had met.”
Noir tapped the rim of his glass with a claw as he straightened up in his seat. Noir’s one orange eye locked onto the Zabrak’s own golden pair. “Indeed. Noir Khan, professional private investigator at your service. I trust my rates were satisfactory to you?” The Cathar spoke with a slight rumble.
“I assume so, as I’m here talking to you.” Vreva narrowed her eyes with a quizzical look, then slid across the table a credit chit with a pre-arranged amount on it. She wasn’t in charge of the wallet that produced it. She was just the one to hand it over. She assumed he was well worth the money. “Hear you might know where to find a certain Trandoshan that’s disappeared himself into these levels.”
Paum fell in behind Vreva’s shoulder, blocking out some of the overhead lighting and casting a shadow over the table. He opted to stand and loom over the meeting with his arms crossed. The scene painted around this booth could be taken as a handful of thugs intimidating one feline, a perception he was willing to handle if needed. There was no way he was fitting into those seats. The Herglic kept an eye on the cantina and what few patrons it hosted right now.
“Hrumpth,” the grunt of air through his blowhole atop his head was a chuff as the older man paused hearing the Cathar’s narration. His lip twitched, sure he was mistaken, maybe there was a comm piece lodged in those furry ears.
Lfin unfurled his arms and unclipped a datapad shapped device from his built. He reached over and around the crimson Zabrak and set it down beside the credit chit. His thumb compressed the power button on the ID scanner, which flared alight and started displaying a scroll of information. The reptilian face had a name in bold beside it.
Bhoc Vedmat.
“A new face in the area causing a bit of trouble, raising hell down here with his squad. Rumored to be on level a thousand, hundred and thirty-eight,” Paum rumbled.
Igantius looked at the face on the screen. Taking note of what Paum had just said. He took a mental note of the appearance of the datapad, his time in his former career had taught him to be wary of any device he didn’t personally touch. It didn’t seem to have been tampered with but he wasn’t in a hurry to grab it any time soon.
Noir leaned forward slightly to read the additional information on the ID scanner before sitting back in his seat to share. “Level 1138 is accurate. Vedmat was operating between floors 1100 and 1200. However, his movements have been restricted lately because he killed someone Larfulda, a local wookiee gang leader, had a life debt to. Vedmat’s made a deal with one of Larfulda’s rivals, a Rodian named Cyris. Normally, we could take the portal down to level 1138, but it is under heavy watch by those working for Cyris and Vedmat. If you want to get down, your best bet is to go up. There are a series of shafts and cargo lifts between 1111 and 1138 that have been mostly out of use. While I am certain Vedmat has not left floor 1138, where he is there, I have not yet locked down.” Noir finished what remained of his drink before continuing, “I don’t leave jobs unfinished. Once there I will help you finish tracking Vedmat down.”
Vreva glanced at Paum at the mention of the shafts. “You sure we can all take this route? Big guy’s kinda… big. But if so, lead the way.” She trusted the locals to navigate these levels. It was all a maze to her.
Level 1143
“Vhat do you mean it’s blockedt?”
The diminutive Jawa warbled a high-pitched reply, punctuated by an exasperated raising of its arms. It continued to explain in broken Hutteese that some local gangs had enforced curfews and check points along the way. The reason remained nebulous, but inter-gang scuffles weren’t uncommon. Tali pushed past the creature as it continued to veer off on a vaguely political tirade about how gangs were inherently bad for business, and that all disputes would be solved by implementing universal scavenger’s rights.
The floor she was on did not look much different than the previous, though due to the blockage in traffic, the press of people was somehow even greater than before. The weight of bodies shuffling around was making the normally unpleasant air almost unbreathable and tempers seemed to rise alongside the temperature. For a moment, she considered using that to her advantage, creating a diversion to clear some of the checkpoints to sneak through. But even though she owed no allegiances to Coruscant or its people, abusing the locals for a quick felt questionable. Not to mention, the gangers likely weren’t trained in non-lethal crowd control.
As she wrestled with these thoughts, she found herself drawn almost unconsciously to a spot among the crowd where the heat of life forms was slightly lesser. Feeling a faint coolness grazing her lekku, she craned her neck to spot a vent bleeding out refreshing air. The structure was ancient, and likely infested with the sorts of life one couldn’t reason with, but a simple glance at its direction in relation to the floor above and below told her one crucial thing—the vent passed between levels.
With great difficulty, she navigated the throng of people to find a spot outside immediate view and pulled out her lightsaber. Pressing its emitter against the cool durasteel of a vent grate, she pressed the activation stud and drew a swift square, the hum and sparks masked by her cape.
With faint persuasion from the Force, the vent grate separated, allowing the lithe Twi'lek to slip inside.
Immediately her senses were assaulted by the residues clinging to every surface, most prominently the sticky grime sedimented beneath her boots. Scowling, she pulled her cloak around her and pressed ahead in a hunched shuffle, venturing towards a junction that would lead her further down. Trying to suppress the constant awareness of things skittering just beyond her immediate periphery, she reached that gaping maw of blackness from which the cool air emanated. The light of her saber was too shallow to make out its end, meaning the drop must have been at least a few levels. Activating her repulsor belt, she let out a sigh and stepped over the edge.
==
Level 1138
A golden yellow beam of plasma burst through a vent grille, slicing clean through the corroded durasteel in a shower of sparks. A moment later the excised grille departed at speed, propelled across the alleyway by a soiled boot. Tali Sroka climbed out of the vent and into the alley with a spit and a cough. Something best left unnamed had just dripped on her face and the urgent desire to vacate the vents had been made for her. Wiping the worst of the muck off and swearing to get a rebreather the next time she visited Coruscant, the Twi'lek took a moment to center herself.
Unlike the floors above the checkpoint, the streets down here seemed almost vacant by comparison. That wasn’t from a lack of people, though. Her senses expanded to take note of countless sentients around her, but all were sheltering inside as if some foul weather had somehow made its way from the surface all the way down here. Perhaps there was no gale to contend with, but she too could sense the charge of a brewing storm.
The sound of footsteps alerted her to an approaching group, a gaggle of misfits big and small. They seemed unaware of her for now, equally preoccupied with maintaining a low profile. They weren’t gangers, but they were clearly a team of sorts. She contented to observing them a while longer, hoping they would pass without noticing her in return, when suddenly the sound of screaming repulsorlifts approached, punctuated by blaster discharges. A pair of speeders, one crewed by Rodians, the other by haggard Wookiees, barreled down the street at breakneck speed, exchanging frantic shots that missed their targets wildly.
The group she’d observed made a split second decision and darted towards the alley she was in, seeking cover from the oncoming maniacs. Tali swiftly clipped her saber to her hilt and shrouded herself in her cloak, trusting the impromptu grime and accumulated smell from her vent-spelunking might ease to pass her for a local.
Vrrrooosh, vrrrooosh!
A gust of air and repulsor exhaust gushed into the alleyway as the group threw themselves against the buildings in time for the two warring speeders to rush past. The Herglic’s back solidly thwomped against durasteel with a heavy huff, “Hahrumph!”
Paum stared out into the street and watched the retreating gang conflict, his thick skin still crawling whether from adrenaline of clearing the streets or being crowded in repulsorlifts. Gang warfare wasn’t anything he missed. Twisting his shoulders, he shot a look at the group but particularly to his Zabraki companion. “Let’s get this over with, can’t wait to get back to Selen.” He nodded to the Togorian standing by Ignatius, giving him the floor, “Noir.”
Midway through Noir’s self narration and processing, a voice interrupted from deeper into the alleyway.
“Apologies, vouldt you be Arconans?”
Four set of eyes turned to look at a cloaked figure stepping out of the shadows, the hood falling away to reveal a purple twi'lek woman. Her hand touching a metal brooch pinned on her clothes, the shape familiar to the three clanmates in the group. Another Arconan…
Though the Zabrak had narrowed her eyes at the fourth member joining their squad late, Vreva was grateful for all three for leading her through the Coruscant underbelly. This far deep, each level appeared the same to her, just filthier. A maze of trash. But the others navigated it with relative ease while she stumbled her way. She kept close behind Paum, allowing him to part the way for her to trail after.
“When will we get there?” Vreva whispered, tense and alert to any eyes on her. She was here for one task, and it was taking out that Trandoshan.
A huge hand on her shoulder from Paum stopped her, and he gestured towards a building ahead. It looked over the square with a chain fence and razorwire to keep others out. The place was still, dark, but Vreva had a lingering sense that something was happening inside. She caught a glimpse of movement, a scattering of two groups heading separate ways out from the warehouse.
“Let’s follow-” she started to speak, but a loud explosion from the upper floor of the warehouse caused her and the others to duck down. Debris and dust filled the air as other explosions followed in succession. The structure of the warehouse crumbled on one side, and more fled the area in random paths like insects scattering before the light.
“There’s the bastard.” Vreva pointed toward a handful gathering at a nearby lift. A reptilian alien was at their head, likely the Trandoshan they were looking for. They were headed elsewhere, closing the lift before the Brotherhood forces could follow after them.
“You know where that lift leads?” Vreva asked the others. “Assuming further down?” A nod from Paum earned a frustrated growl from the Zabrak. “Alright, let’s get a move on before we miss the party entirely.”