Tabloid Hyperlane Herald Loses Supporters!

[The Storyteller]

Billions of subscribers and viewers across the galaxy are boycotting or dropping Hyperlane Herald as their source of media following the accusations of Hutt corruption. The Core Worlds, which already have a strong stance against the Hutt Cartel, are experiencing citizen protestors taking to Holonet or other platforms to decry Hyperlane Herald’s constant glorifying of Hutts and repeated and targeted attacks against the Empire.

“They constantly undermine the Empire by refusing to address Altair Din by his correct title,” An Imperial citizen was quoted, “They keep calling him Warmaster to discredit a figure that has been doing everything possible to keep us stable after everything we’ve been through.”

“Brushing aside the Imperial victory on Raxus and focusing on the Hutts and their might was a blatant and disgusting display of bias,” A Core World citizen was quoted, “The Hutts and their failings in attempting to corrupt and take over Imperial space was completely overshadowed in place of demonizing a single individual. What happens when the Hutts strike a blow on a Core World? We’ll have to listen to the Hyperlane Herald praising the Hutt might and shaming the victims or attacking our Senator. Disgusting.”

“The Hyperlane Herald condemns heroes and glorifies villains!”

"If it comes between the people that killed off Darth Raze and Darth Andruil or slave-driving Hutts, I'm gonna believe the former. Screw you Hyperlane Herald!"

While the Outer Rim territories remain neutral, Imperial space and the Core Worlds are fraught with countless citizens calling for Voren Dhur’s resignation. The Hyperlane Herald, a significantly large and galactically influential media agency, has always held the position as a respectable and reputable source of information and truth. The recently alleged slander against the Empire and simultaneous veneration of the Hutt Cartel have cast a spotlight on both Voren Dhur and Hyperlane Herald as a whole. If Hyperlane Herald hopes to keep its viewers and credibility, it will need to do some serious damage control.

 

[Voren Dhur]

Voren slouched in his worn-out chair, surrounded by a haze of smoke and the faint scent of stale liquor. His eyes scanned the damning headline put out by one of his rival outlets.

Billions of subscribers?

It was nice to have that many to lose. He doubted the claim's authenticity, but it didn't make for pleasant reading. Voren was not one to be beaten up by negative coverage - he'd been in the game for too long.

A twisted grin spread across his lips.

"Boycotts? Protests? Calls for resignation?" he scoffed, punctuating each word with a puff of smoke. "Sounds like I'm making a splash."

His fingers, stained with the residue of countless tabac sticks, flicked through the accusations with disdain. "Hutt corruption? Is Empire's fragile ego getting bruised? Please, spare me the melodrama."

Voren was not in this job to be liked.

Leaning forward, his voice dripped with sarcasm as he launched into a tirade. "Oh, the Empire is upset because we won't kiss their boots and sing their praises? Cry me a river. Last time I checked, it was the Empire that brought tyranny and oppression to every corner of the galaxy."

He grabbed a half-empty bottle of Corellian whiskey, taking a long swig before continuing. "And let's talk about heroes, shall we? The same heroes who bring death and destruction wherever they go, all in the name of maintaining their stranglehold on power."

Voren's words were laced with venom as he railed against the hypocrisy of those who dared to condemn him. "You want to talk about villains? Look no further than the Empire, with its puppet leaders and soulless enforcers. They're the real villains here, not some slimy Hutts."

Entirely unsure of just who he was trying to convince, he stubbed out his tabac stim and poured another drink. "Go ahead, boycott us, protest us, call for my resignation. It won't change a damn thing. The truth is the truth, whether they like it or not, and I'll be damned if I let them silence me."

He took a swing of the drink, finished it off and headed right back to the bottle...

---

...the next morning.

The harsh glow of the morning sun pierced through the cracks in the broken blinds, assaulting Voren's bleary eyes as he groaned and lifted his head from the cluttered desk he had clearly fallen asleep on.

His head throbbed with the rhythm of last night's indulgences, a testament to the excesses of his life.

Dragging himself upright, Voren stumbled across the cluttered room, knocking over a stack of datapads with a curse. The clash of a wide assortment of bottles kicked across the room accompanied him.

His throat felt like sandpaper, his tongue heavy with the taste of cheap whiskey and regret.

With a grunt, he reached for the half-empty bottle of Corellian whiskey on his nightstand, contemplating the wisdom of another drink to dull the pain. But even in his foggy state, a voice nagged at the back of his mind, urging him to push through the haze and face the day ahead.

"Time to get moving, Voren," he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse from disuse. "No rest for the wicked."

Shuffling into the tiny refresher, he splashed cold water on his face, wincing as the shock of the chill sent a jolt through his system. The reflection in the mirror was a stark contrast to the 'dashing journalist' he liked to imagine himself as - bloodshot eyes, a bald head with the faint shadow of hair trying to grow, and the pallor of someone who hadn't seen a decent night's sleep in years.

But there was work to be done, stories to uncover, and truths to reveal.

Despite the pounding in his head and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Voren's unwavering commitment to his craft refused to be deterred.

With a deep breath and a muttered curse, he reached for his trusty DTX-1480 Informaster, the vessel through which he spread his word. As he powered up the device, the familiar hum of its circuits seemed to echo with the promise of adventure and danger, a siren call that Voren couldn't resist.

"Time to shake off the cobwebs and hit the streets," Voren declared to no one in particular, a crooked grin spreading across his face despite the ache in his bones. "Let's get on with it."