Helping a Lost Soul (Open to Jedi)

[Kuran]

Aren Nalto was not having a good day.

He had woken up in a hospital bed. That had perhaps set the tone for the rest of the day to come. One simply did not wake up with a hole in his arm and expect the day to get better. It simply didn't work like that. And yet, Aren had decided to make it that little bit worse. Instead of doing what the surgeon had told him and staying in bed, he had checked himself out of Coruscant General, getting a sling for his arm in the process.

Grabbing a taxi outside of the hospital, he had paid the driver with a credit chip from his coat, and promptly fallen asleep in the back. He'd been woken up an hour later, with the driver, a distinctly frazzled Nautolan, insisting that he get out.

The man, just touching twenty-five, had stumbled out, and the taxi had soared off almost as soon as the door had closed. Aren stumbled his way up the steps in front of him, head bowed in pain, ignoring the fact that he was ascending the steps of the Jedi Temple. The man, dressed in a long grey, almost military cut, full length coat with his hand peeking out of the side due to the sling, waited until he heard the footsteps of someone close by before raising his head.

"I..." He coughed violently, hand coming away from his mouth with a drop of blood on it. "I need to see a Jedi...."

 

[Fyston]

And so this is the Coruscant Jedi Temple, thought Fyston as the building filled his eyes, the monument reflecting in pupils that were pinpricks in the midday sun. Fyston had missed the reopening of the Jedi Temple due to his duties on Tython and had just recently been able to travel to Triple Zero. His ship, the Dangerous Revenge, sat behind him on the duracrete landing pad. The Knight had wanted to first enter the Temple through the front, walking through millennia of history, rather than through the private landing pads that were available to him. Due to this, he had quite the trek before him in order to make it to the Temple, though such a walk was nothing more than extra time to gather his thoughts.

It was nearly thirty minutes later before he rounded the last corner and the shadow of the Jedi Temple replaced the shadow cast by the large buildings surrounding it. Fyston took in a deep breath, centering himself in the Force, before beginning the last stretch of his walk.

Until, of course, he noticed the taxi rapidly descending from the automated skylane. He couldn't quite tell the species of the pilot, though his or her flying certainly wasn't the best. Fyston watched as, less than 15 meters from him, the taxi came to a stop and a single man stepped out. Hmm, thought Fyston. I wonder what brought him here.

Fyston watched the man with interest, following silently behind him. In his experience, few came to the Jedi Temple on accident. He either needed something, which was most likely, or he came to people watch. There were, of course, other possibilities, though Fyston didn't know them. All that mattered was that he was here now.

Fyston closed the distance, hoping to satiate his curiosity and, if he could, help the man. He watched as the man spasmed and eyed the blood on his hand with curiosity. "Interesting," he mused out loud. "I'm a Jedi, though you could tell that by the robes. I daresay you need to see a doctor, though by the look of the sling you have already seen one. How may I help?"

 

[Kuran]

Aren cast his gaze upwards, observing what he had assumed to be a jedi, pleased to find that he was. He struggled to stand a bit taller, ever hoping to make the good impression. "My...my name is Aren..." He reached with his good hand into his coat, coming out with a badge/ID, which he presented to the Jedi. "I'm a detective with CSF."

Over his several years, he had dealt with Jedi rather infrequently, but had gained something of an understanding about them. Simply put, they generally preferred to be left alone. This, however, was unexplored territory. He had little idea of how the Jedi in general would react to what he had to say, let alone this particular one.

"Two days ago, I was part of a team that raided a drug den. I took a round to the arm, as you can see. I....well..." It still sounded ridiculous, even to him. "I threw the one who shot me across the room. Broke his neck. I killed him. But...I didn't do anything." He shook his head. "I mean, I didn't touch him. He was ten feet away when it happened."

Suddenly feeling tired, he turned, sitting down on one of the steps. "None of the officers...none of my friends, even my father," He left out the fact that his father was in fact his uncle, that could come later. "They won't understand. I don't know what else to do, so...here I am. I don't know much about this 'force' you all use, but...I don't know how else I could have done it."

 

[Fyston]

Fyston smiled reassuringly to Aren as he introduced himself, his eyes kind and understanding. So the man was a detective, though Fyston thought that everyone was a detective at some point in their lives. Some people decided to make a career out of it, as Aren did, while others simply tracked down mistresses or escaped slaves or any other assortment of problems. Fyston had once been such a detective for Druga the Hutt, though now he was a Jedi. The differences between the two were monumental, as if one compared a butterfly to a Star Destroyer. Simply put, he now had access to better resources, namely the Force.

The Knight waited patiently, taking in Aren's story and waiting until he was done to respond. It wasn't that uncommon, actually. In both his experience and what he'd read over the years in the Archives, Fyston knew that Force Sensitive beings could harness the Force in times of need without the slightest bit of training. Even he had used it to survive, utilizing the Force to steal food or get out of trouble.

Aren seemed uneasy, as if he didn't believe what had happened, though Fyston didn't blame him in the slightest. "Relax, my friend," stated the Jedi as he sat himself down beside the man. "First of all, I am Fyston Sutsgy. My occupation's a bit obvious, though what you recall is not unusual. Those who are Force Sensitive are able to do such things when in times of great distress. Normally, this shows itself by having more luck than usual or being in the right place at the right time, though this is different from everyone."

Fyston closed his eyes, tapping into the web of connections that was the Force. He calmly found Aren's link and felt him in the Force, examining him without looking at him. He was, indeed, Force Sensitive, and Fyston opened his eyes. "Do not worry, everything happens for a reason. Your friends and family will understand when you tell them that you are attuned to the Force, though the choice is obviously yours to make regarding your Force Sensitivity."

"You are at a crossroads," continued Fyston. "And what happens now is entirely up to you. If you wish to learn, the Jedi will teach you. I'm a little biased, seeing as I am one, but it's the best thing that has happened to me." Fyston, naturally, didn't tell Aren what he had been doing prior to becoming a Jedi, as he hated that aspect about himself and didn't want the information to be public knowledge. "At the very least, even if you leave here today with the knowledge that you are able to use the Force, let me tend to your arm."

 

[Kuran]

He nodded slowly, taking in what the Jedi said. He hadn't had any expectations, had no idea of what would happen, but so far, it seemed to be working rather well. And here was....was it? He couldn't quite tell, even as the Jedi, Fyston, told him.

"I would imagine that i'll be let go from the CSF any day now. People dislike working around Jedi. No offence." He added hurriedly. "So I see no reason not to learn, especially if I am...how did you say it? Sensitive?" He continued on without really thinking. "To be honest, I don't know if I will be charged with the Ryll-head's death or not. So I won't lie, I might bring you all more trouble than I'm worth."

He pulled back the shoulder of his coat, revealing his arm in a sling, covered in bandages. "It's mostly fine, the blaster bolt hit something sensitive. I'll live, but i'm supposed to be resting. Apparently, flying halfway across the city and attempting to climb the steps here didn't fit the doc's definition of resting."

"So," He said, as if snapping out of a dream. "What do I do? Is there some form or something I need to fill out?" Working for a government, Aren had almost come to expect over time that everything required paperwork in copious amounts.

 

[Fyston]

Fyston found it slightly funny that the detective mentioned bringing trouble upon him. Well, between that and his statement of people's dislike for working with Jedi, Fyston had a smile on his face. "Trust me, it's fine. I'm not the type to take offense to what is true. The PR department of the Jedi has needed work so far back that lightsabers hadn't been invented yet." In essence, it was true. People didn't like the Jedi for the trouble they seemed to bring, though the fact that they didn't know much about the Jedi and the Force seemed to also negatively influence public opinion. The Jedi were rarely just out and about and few beings saw a Jedi in their lifetime, though Fyston wished it would change.

"As for charges, you don't need to worry about it. I used to work for a Hutt on Nar Shaddaa. Stowing away was my means of transportation, though I snuck aboard a Jedi vessel and was brought there. They housed me and trained me, and now I'm a Jedi Knight. Before, I was living in nasty sewer water, killing slugs and rats to survive."

Fyston examined Aren's arm without touching it, his eyes peering over the wound as if it were some interesting specimen in a lab or as if it were a mechanism that was intricate and not yet understood. He remembered the man coughing up blood, though didn't think that an arm wound would do such a thing. It was possible that the force of his exertions or excess energy from the blaster bolt caused it, though Fyston was doubtful. Regardless, it would be taken care of inside.

"I think so," commented Fyston as he attempted to remember what he had gone through when joining the Jedi. It was so far ago and so much had happened to him since then that he couldn't remember. "They'll likely ask you some questions and examine you. To be honest, I'm not familiar with the details of the Acquisition Division, so I may have left something out. You may not even remember these forms and tests when you look back on yourself 10 years down the road." Fyston stood, offering the man his hand to help him stand up. "Let's go, we'll get you sorted out regardless."

 

[Kuran]

Aren nodded slowly, watching the Jedi closely as he examined his arm. "It hit a muscle group or something, I don't know what they've done with the blaster....we were raiding the apartment for drugs, and there had been rumors about a new type of rounds that did bad damage, but they were just rumors..."

He managed a small smile, taking the offered hand and raising himself to a stand. "I thought you lot only took young children. Aren't I a bit old?" He pondered what his adoptive uncle would say when he found out. He'd spent most of his life with the weary caution that most officers had of 'the mystic mob'.