Ask Murder, She Wrote

[Arata]

The Sector Ranger's ship rocked violently as it dipped below a wreath of clouds into Ord Mantell's lower atmosphere. Peering out the viewport, Arata laid eyes on a city for the first time. There were no cities on Keelia. None on Yavin IV, either. Arata had heard of them, of course, and seen holos of them on the HoloNet. But to see one up close defied expectations.

He marveled at the architecture, at the way speeders whizzed by them on the way out of the city to the countryside. How could anyone live in such a cramped space, blaring with noise and activity? The very thought of it gave him anxiety, so he pulled away from the viewport.

In the pilot seat of the cockpit was a Ranger named Kanan Marek. The two of them had barely spoken on the flight beyond basic introductions, and while it would be too awkward to break the silence, Arata couldn't help but be curious about the man. He was no Jedi Knight. There were currently none of those who could take Arata on. But Kanan had agreed to teach the Padawan the basics of law-enforcement work. There was much a Padawan could learn from a Sector Ranger about that line of work, and Jedi did need good detective instincts, as well as public relation skills.

Arata wanted to learn more about the Force. He wanted to build his first lightsaber. But every Jedi had to learn patience—or so he was told. So, he was sent here instead. He supposed he better make the best of it.

"What's the mission?" he asked, peaking over Kanan's shoulder as the ship dipped lower towards a starport runway. He tried a smile, but it came off weak. He was still nervous about all this. "I suppose it's not going to far to ask, right?" @llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

The planet of Ord Mantell had a unique reputation, and none of it good. Comparing it to the ecumenopolis of Nar Shaddaa might have been an unfair and harsh assessment of the mountainous planet, but the comparison was not wholly unwarranted.

From the shores of its capital Worlport to the junkyards and mines on the outskirts of civilization, criminals of every class and breed made themselves at home here. The saying "Nothing is ever truly illegal on Ord Mantell" didn't stray far from the mark.

On the surface, its modern cities were chic and glamorous, but Kanan had been a Sector Ranger long enough to know that if you peeled enough layers away all of its appeal would crumble away. Beneath all the bright lights and showmanship beat a city full of crime and villainy that few were exempt from. Casinos were a given, but even the governors of the planet were known to turn a blind eye to the crime that more often than not ran rampant in the city streets.

It wasn't the sort of place for a Jedi Padawan, particularly one so young. Naivety still clung to the boy's features, and Ord Mantell was just the type of planet to strip him of that and stomp on him in the process.

Kanan had to wonder at the Jedi Order for sending the Padawan on a mission like this, and he had to wonder why his superiors had chosen him, of all people, to teach the teenager a thing or two about law enforcement. Were they dumping the Jedi off on him as some sort of punishment? Was it a sign of confidence?

If it was the Sector Ranger's design to improve relations with the Jedi Order, surely another ranger would have been more suitable for the job. The ranger didn't exactly have the reputation of a people person. Kanan glanced over his shoulder at the teenager.

Ah, well. It could have been worse. At least he hadn't talked the whole ride.

"A recent string of murders," Kanan replied, his eyes focused on the starport below. "Local law enforcement have called us in to help."

Slowly, the light freighter touched down, the hydraulics of its landing gear hissing to life. Flipping a few switches, Kanan spun around in his chair to face the Jedi Padawan. "This your first mission?"

@Mockingjay​

 

[Arata]

Regrettably, he thought.

He didn't dare voice the thought aloud. Arata was still young and it would be sometime before he could use the Magina to sense the thoughts and feelings of others, but even he could tell that they were both uncertain about this assignment. And he didn't want to make matters worse by expressing it aloud. Besides, there were multiple truths he could answer with, so he chose the more palatable one.

"First one that doesn't involve me running laps through the jungle," Arata replied. Then, sensing the intent behind the question, added, "I'll do my best to stay invisible and prioritize learning."

Yet, even though the words had barely left his mouth, he pulled out his phone and ran a HoloNet search for Ord Mantel murders. It didn't take him long to find what they were here for. Murder, apparently, wasn't uncommon on Ord Mantell. But this wasn't just crimes of passion. This was a serial killer. The recent influx of refugees from planets attacked by the Sith had gotten someone's attention; but the authorities weren't sure who.

All they knew was that the murderer was targeting Twi'lek dancers. Whoever the killer was, they had killed eleven so far. Understandably, the city was tense. Its Twi'lek residents were living in fear. Arata's stomach twisted imagining their terror, but also at the idea that his first mission was to hunt down a serial killer. He supposed there was no room for weak stomachs in the Jedi Order. Eventually, he would have to fight Sith, after all; and they weren't exactly known for their peaceful methods.

Even so...

Arata sucked in a breath. The Magina was there to calm his nerves. It wasn't a perfect remedy, but it would have to do for now. He bent down to tighten the laces on his boots, then rose and nodded at Kanan. For better or worse, he was ready.

"Got any ideas what you want me to be doing?" he asked as they disembarked. "LIke I said, I don't want to get in the way. But maybe there's something I can do? So I'm not entirely worthless?" @llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

The Jedi Order and Sector Rangers truly had thrown Arata in the deep end of the pool and expected him to swim. Either they had an inordinate amount of faith in the teenager or he was eager to prove his worth. Perhaps both.

In the face of Sith invasions and entire planets getting glassed, a serial killer must have seemed disproportionately inconsequential for the Jedi Order, but Arata was not the Jedi Order. He was a teenage boy. The majority of teenage boys were focused on girls or where they were going to attend university, not on serial killers and dead Twi'leks.

Clearly, Arata was not like other teenagers. Even if he did sit on his phone more than Kanan thought necessary. The Jedi Order expected greatness from the teenager, otherwise they would not have sent him on this mission so early into his training. Hopefully, he wouldn't disappoint.

"Do you have a weapon?" Kanan hadn't seen the teenager bring any on board amongst his belongings, nor did the ranger see any on him now.

Arata possessed the Force, in and of itself a great and powerful weapon, but Kanan would feel a lot better if he knew the Jedi carried something a little more tangible too, as an added precaution. They were on the trail of a murderer, after all. Ord Mantell did not deal kindly with those not equipped to defense themselves.

"Here." He tossed the Jedi Padawan a spare blaster lying around the cockpit collecting dust. "Just in case. I don't want you dying on my watch," he added, smirking so the teenager would know he was joking. Mostly. Mostly joking.

"Just keep your eyes and ears open, utilize your force abilities when possible." The Sector Ranger wondered if he would live to regret his next words, but he would speak them regardless of his own doubts. Solving the case was what mattered, not all of the inconveniences along the way. "Don't be afraid to speak up if you have something to say."

At the other end of the landing pad stood a thin Zygerrian male, his gaze never straying from the pair as they descended the boarding ramp.

"Our eleventh victim was discovered just last night, so our first stop will be the morgue. We'll examine the body, see if we can discover any fresh leads."

The Zygerrian stepped forward as the pair drew closer, extending a hand to each of them in turn. "Jedi Arata, Ranger Marek. I'm Detective Inor Vidal with Worlport Security Force."

@Mockingjay​

​

​

 

[Arata]

Arata barely caught the blaster before it smacked him in the face. The weapon was a lot heavier than he expected, which made him wonder what a lightsaber would feel like when he finally got his. It would have been nice for the Council to let him have one for such a crucial mission. Unfortunately, a lightsaber required a kyber crystal, which don't grow on Yavin IV. And there weren't any Knights exactly hopping at the opportunity to take the new Padawans out on a Gathering. So, now Arata was stuck using a gun.

So uncivilized.

He mumbled a "thank you" and shoved the weapon into a holster on his hip. Walking out onto the landing strip made him feel like a marshal on some desolate Outer Rim world. Not a Jedi Knight. But he supposed that was the point. He'd been sent to learn law enforcement, detective skills, all that. Maybe if he passed this test some Knight or Master would take enough interest in him to train him in what he was supposed to be.

Arata let Kanan do most of the talking at first, but when Inor Vidal mentioned the morgue and the eleventh victim, he took the "speak up if you feel like it" card Kanan gave him and ran with it. "What do we know about the victim?" he asked.

That sounded law-enforcement-y, right?

"Not much except that he fits the bill for one of our killer's victims. Young. Slightly older than you, though; Twi'lek, and—"

"Wait, he?" Arata shot Kanan a look, then back at Detective Vidal. "I thought all the victims were dancers."

"They are," Vidal grumbled. "We have as many male Twi'lek dancers in this city as female. They cater to beings of all taste."

Arata's stomach twisted into a knot. So, the killer didn't have a gender bias, but he certainly seemed to have a racial one. Arata didn't like the way Vidal had described them either. Catering to beings of all taste. As if someone's body was a commodity for the unwashed sickos in the galaxy to use at their whim.

He said nothing more as they climbed into the speeder that was to take them to the morgue. He would let Kanan take the lead here. He needed to steel himself for whatever he was about to see in that morgue. @llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Kanan was already beginning to regret his suggestion to "speak up if you have anything to say," but what was done was done. At least the teenager was taking an interest in the case, which was more than Kanan had expected from him. When he'd first laid eyes on the sixteen year old boy, he'd half expected him to spend the whole investigation with his nose in his phone.

Already Arata had exceeded his expectations. They were low expectations, but still. Credit where credit was due.

Detective Vidol led the pair over to his waiting hovercraft, and the three men piled in. "Any hunches?" Kanan asked the detective.

Personal experience had taught the Sector Ranger that Ord Mantell's Security Forces were not to be trusted. Credits and corruption had crept into every level of government on this planet, and the local casinos held more sway over public officials than anyone cared to admit. Still, it never hurt to ask for a man's opinion. That's all it was. An opinion.

Vidal shook his head, frowning. "Afraid not. Not much that ties the victims together apart from their race and their profession."

​

The rest of the ride passed in silence, with only the occasional horn of an angry driver to draw attention to the hustle and bustle of the city. At the morgue, Detective Vidal led the Jedi and Sector Ranger down a set of stairs, opting not to use the lift.

"It's always out of order," he sighed in the way of explanation.

Rows of cold lockers lined the wall opposite the trio, desks with paperwork and medical equipment on both sides. At the center of the room stood a single table with the body of a dead male Twi'lek lying supine. A white sheet had been draped across his mid-section, a blinking identification bracelet attached to his wrist.

"We have a positive identification?" Kanan asked, approaching the body.

"Tuddosa. Or at least that's the name he gave at his job. Nineteen years old," a silk voice rang out from the other side of the room. A bespectacled female Devaronian in a white coat appeared, a datapad in hand.

"Ah. Hanna D'romask, our lead forensic pathologist," Detective Vidal introduced.

Hanna D'romask was not interested in introductions, diving right into the details instead, which suited Kanan just fine. None of them were here to make friends. "Discovered by a co-worker in the alleyway behind the Sarlacc Dive where he'd been working for the past six months."

"Is the manner of death consistent with the other killings?" Kanan asked, scratching his beard as he stared at the corpse on the table.

Hannah D'romask's eyes twinkled. "Yes. Throat slit, almost from ear to ear."

@Mockingjay​

 

[Arata]

Arata winced.

Back on Keelia, the sages in his village taught him that death was part of the natural cycle that fed the Magina—just as it then fed all life. They taught him to respect death, embrace it even. The Jedi were no different. Those who died transformed into the Force. No more pain. No more suffering. He hoped now more than ever that it was true. Still, there was nothing natural about this death. This Twi'lek, Tuddosa, had been stollen from life and had it stollen from him.

He looked away. The basic drills he'd been put through back on Yavin IV came rushing back to him. Breath. Just breath. Then, reach out. The Magina flowed in like a cold river. Not the comforting warmth he'd felt back on Yavin or Keelia. This was the frigid touch of murder, of a soul that had not let go just yet.

Arata swallowed the bile rising in his throat and focused on Detective Vidal. He needed to distract himself with the investigation. "You said you didn't have a hunch about the killer's identity except for the race and profession of his victims. That can be telling on its own, right?" He glanced between the detective and Kanan. "Is there anyone you can think of that harbors strong anti-Twi'lek sentiments? Or maybe someone who really hates dancers?"

Vidal's face twisted disapprovingly. "Kid, there are over a million beings living in this city. There's no way to know the racial prejudices of everyone. Besides, dancers get murdered all the time. Someone hires them for a night, decides they don't want to pay or the alcoholic haze lifts and they realize what they've done, and, well, you can fill in the rest."

Anger flashed in Arata. How could people be so cruel? How was a Jedi supposed to maintain their peace in a galaxy where this type of crime was probably a commonality on all major urban worlds? He was about to follow that dark line of thought down a mental rabbit hole when Dr. D'romask spoke up.

"I can tell you this," she said. "Whoever killed these people had surgical precision. The cuts aren't jagged like an amateur or a crime of passion. They're clean, patient. Tells me whoever did it was a professional and probably captured the victim before killing them."

The Magina flared up like a lightbulb in Arata's head. He whirled to face Kanan. "A surgeon?" @llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Doctor D'romask signaled her agreement with Arata by nodding her head a few times. "Yes, a surgeon would possess the anatomical knowledge necessary to inflict this type of mutilation."

Briefly, Kanan's brown eyes met those of the teenager's. The Sector Ranger said nothing, but the subtle upturn of his lips implied "Nice work, kid."

With one hand the ranger would pull the white sheet away until it revealed the victim's abdomen. Tuddosa's stomach had been cut open, blue skin now stained crimson. Another clean incision.

"One of his kidneys is missing," Kanan would mutter after a few seconds.

"It was found a few feet away from the body," Doctor D'romask replied, her nails clicking away on her datapad. "I've been authorized to release my reports to you. I've forwarded you a copy, but in the meantime..." She pushed the datapad across the table for Kanan and Arata to have a look.

"You're sure all eleven victims are the work of the same person?"

"I'd bet my reputation on it. The circumstances might be different, but their manner of death is the same. The mutilation ranges, but... Yes. I believe it's one killer."

"Has anyone positively identified the body?"

This question Detective Vidal answered. "Other than coworkers— no. He has no identification card, and his finger prints aren't in our system. No family or friends have come forward to claim the body, so all we know is what he told his employers." He frowned. "Which wasn't much."

Kanan nodded, covering the Twi'lek with the white sheet. Tuddosa (if that was his real name) was most likely a refugee, a misfortunate soul who'd escaped Sith expanion or the spreading AMS just to be murdered in a back alleyway on a Free Worlds planet.

"We can't rule anything out just yet. Anyone with some degree of surgical knowledge could have done this, but..." He nodded toward Arata. "It's a good lead."

@Mockingjay​

 

[Arata]

Arata continued to examine the Twi'lek while the adults speculated behind him. Kanan had pointed out the missing kidney, so maybe there was something else they were missing. But he couldn't see any other large incisions. Nothing that would suggest another missing organ, until...

Blood. Dried blood, to be specific. There two spots of it, right beneath the victim's nose, as if he had suffered a nosebleed before he died—or even after. The detail was too mundane to bring to the adults. Not yet. So, he tucked it away in the back of his mind. Perhaps further investigation would reveal its importance, or render it a useless observation. There were, after all, bigger fish to fry. He turned back to face the adults.

"Can one of you forward the locations the victims were found to my phone?" he asked, glancing between Kanan and Vidal.

The detective once again looked at him perplexed. It was clear the Zygerrian wasn't fond of having a teenager investigating his case; but he reluctantly pulled out a datapad and transmitted the requested data.

Arata pulled out his phone and sat it on the ground. After a few taps, the miniaturized holoprojector up near the phone's camera projected a map of the city with eleven blinking red dots corresponding with the locations of the killer's victims. As expected, the map initially revealed nothing. But that didn't mean there wasn't some clue hidden there.

He shot a look at Dr. D'romask. "Can you point out all the hospitals in the city in relation to this map?"

The Devaronian woman nodded and knelt by the phone, highlighting each building in green. There were at least twenty of them. Now, Arata knelt, tapping a few buttons until the green lights were reduced to just five: each within walking distance of the numerous victim sites.

"I think I get what the kid is onto," Detective Vidal said. "But that's still too many hospitals. Do you know how many surgeons might be on staff?"

"I don't need to," Arata said, still staring at the map. "I just need you to point to me where most of the Twi'lek refugees are staying."

Vidal's eyes widened in shock, but he didn't say anything yet. Not until he had added his own information to Arata's map. Now, there was just one more thing to do. With a few taps, the map was complete. Only one hospital was highlighted, within walking distance of most of the bodies and near the Twi'lek refugee sector. Surely most of the Twi'leks would use that medical center if they needed it, or walk by it on the way to their jobs. It was the best place for a killer to pick his victims. But their works was still far from over.

The sector on the map was still large. Lots of ground to cover. Arata shrugged. "That's about the most I can do." He glanced at Kanan. "I hope you know what's next, 'cause I sure as hell don't"

He had never caught a killer before; but he had a feeling he was about to learn how. @llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Kanan stood back and watched Arata, silent as the Jedi Padawan did his own thing. The teenager's confidence and the ease with which he handled a difficult situation made it hard to believe that this was his first mission, and yet it was.

Doctor D'romask arched an eyebrow as she stared at the holoprojector. She stood and smoothed her skirt, remarking, "Maybe we should have called help in a long time ago."

Detective Vidal was no fool and picked up on her thinly veiled comment, abruptly clearing his throat to call attention away from the implication of incompitance in his department. "If that's everything, we should probably be going."

"Do you have a vehicle we could borrow?" Kanan asked.

"I'd be happy to drive you myself," Detective Vidal offered with his best smile.

Kanan didn't bother to return the pleasantry. "The kid and I would prefer to hoof it alone."

The Sector Ranger did not preemptively judge the detective and his department, but he liked working alone. Already he'd been paired up with the Jedi. He had no intention of adding to the party.

Vidal appeared to be taken back but quickly recovered, offering no further objections. "Of course. I'll have one brought around front for the two of you."

The Detective disappeared up the stairs, and Kanan turned toward the Devaronian doctor. "I'm sure we'll be in touch."

She sighed, pushing her glasses further up her nose. "I'm sure. Hopefully under happier circumstances next time."

Outside of the morgue, a commuter gravsled stood waiting for the Jedi Padawan and Sector Ranger. Kanan circled the repulsorcraft, shaking his head. He hadn't seen one of these in years. Faded, dented, and scratched, to call it a junker was appraisal too high. One good kick would probably have reduced it to a pile of scrap metal.

"I wonder what abandoned warehouse they drug this out of?" he mumbled, climbing into the driver's seat.

Flipping a few switches, he turned toward Arata to finally answer the teenager's question. "We'll stop by the Sarlacc Dive, see if anyone there saw anything or knows something they didn't tell the local police. Tuddosa's murder is still fresh, so we need to maximize any leads while we still can. After that, we'll head over to the Twi'lek refugee sector."

As the repulsorcraft sped away from the morgue, Kanan added, "You have a head for this line of work. Ever consider joining the rangers?"

It wasn't small talk, and the ranger didn't particularly care what Arata did with his life, but if they were going to be working together they might as well be on good terms.

@Mockingjay​

 

[Arata]

Arata wilted under Kanan's praise. It was the first bit of positive reinforcement he had received since joining the Jedi; and, oddly enough, it hadn't come from a Jedi. "Truthfully?" he said. "No. I wasn't given many choices. On Keelia, if you can feel the Magina, you train to become a sage. But my powers were too strong for the sages. They didn't think they could train me properly, so they gave me to the Jedi." Here, Arata snorted derisively. "And the Jedi don't have a lot of Knights on hand who are willing to train me at the moment, so here I am learning to be a Jedi from a Sector Ranger."

He smiled ruefully at Kanan. He knew the Ranger didn't want to have a teenager around on such a grizzly investigation. Truth be told, Arata didn't want to be here either. But he was happy the man was at least kind. The Jedi didn't have many friends in the galaxy at the moment. He could have just as easily gotten a Ranger who hated them and wanted to make Arata's life a living hell.

The rickety speeder soared between tall city spires; but Arata already noticed that the scenery was changing. As they got closer and closer to the Sarlacc Dive, the city became rougher, reminding him briefly of those old holo films he had seen depicting Nar Shaddaa. He would need to be on his guard here. They had come to stop a killer and help people, but that didn't mean there weren't other dangers to consider. Fucking hell he wished he had a lightsaber.

As the speeder dipped towards their destination, Arata thought to make smalltalk himself. He hated long awkward silences. Hated them even more when he was the cause of them. "Do you always work alone?" he asked. "Jedi are typically paired up for missions these days. Surely they don't send you Rangers out on such dangerous missions with just teenagers all the time."

A self-depreciating joke. He had been told those were good icebreakers. @llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

The Sector Ranger couldn't help but laugh to himself. The idea of him teaching a Jedi was an image too humorous to ignore. Kanan didn't know the first thing about the force, let alone about being a Jedi. The Jedi Order must have truly been desperate to hand Arata off to a non force sensitive Sector Ranger with no first-hand experience with the force or with lightsabers.

"They certainly sent you to the wrong place to learn about being a Jedi, didn't they? Maybe you'd make a better ranger anyway. Don't let someone else make all of your decisions for you."

Kanan pitied the kid. The teenager had been passed from his own people to the Jedi Order to a random Sector Ranger he'd never met. He probably didn't want to be here any more than Kanan. Instead of a Jedi Master, he'd been forced to settle for a Sector Ranger for the time being. Together, they'd have to make the best of it.

"I don't always work alone," Kanan replied, answering the teenager's second question. "But I prefer to work alone."

He glanced over at Arata. The kid looked like he needed some building up, like he'd never received a compliment a day in his life. Maybe the Sector Ranger was starting to get soft, or maybe he was simply extending the same curtesy that had been afforded to him many years ago. He had no idea where he would be today if not for the freedom fighters on Arda-1 that had taken him under their wing and helped guide him when he was a young man.

Not bothering to look at Arata, he added, "But uh... you're welcome to work with me anytime you need to."

The pair had arrived at their destination, and Kanan climbed out. Situated between two abandoned shops with busted out windows, the Sarlacc Dive stood waiting. At the end of the street a group of bikers had gathered, loitering beneath the establishment's pink neon sign.

Kanan didn't like the idea of taking the teenager into the Sarlacc Dive, but he didn't want to leave him out on the street either. "Just don't look around too much, alright? Keep your eyes straight ahead."

The doors slid open to reveal the cantina within. In this part of town there were no bouncers stationed at the door to check age and ID. No one cared.

Only neon accent lights lit the establishment, a haze of permanent smoke settling across the room. It was only mid-day, but a dozen patrons were already situated across the cantina. Some were at the bar drowning their sorrows, but the majority were sprawled out in booths or had gathered around a table for a not-so friendly game of pazaak.

Several curious pairs of eyes followed the Jedi and ranger to the bar, where a human bartender stood lazily drying a glass. Kanan showed the bartender his badge but didn't bother with introductions.

"We're here to ask you a few questions."

@Mockingjay​

 

[Arata]

The bartender didn't even look up at them. "I don't talk to cops."

Arata took that as a cue to make his own presence known. He leaned over the bar. "I'm not a cop. I'm a Jedi. Talk to me."

This did get the barkeep's attention. He looked up and gave Arata a once over before returning to cleaning his glass. "Don't talk to Jedi either," he said. "And I certainly don't talk to no brats."

Arata felt the heat touch his cheeks. Anger was an emotion Jedi were not supposed to feel, but it was hard to be constantly belittled for his age at the same time he was supposed to be learning to be a keeper of the peace. But he wasn't entirely without a toolkit. He had received basic training when he arrived a the Jedi temple on Yavin IV, so he knew a few Jedi tricks; and one of them was suited to a situation like this. He momentarily thought against using it; but Kanan had told him to use his Force powers, so he might as well.

With a wave of his fingers, Arata bridged the gap between their minds in the Force and spoke in an even tone. "You will answer our questions," he said.

The barkeep's eyes glazed over momentarily. "I will answer your questions."

"What do you know about this recent spade of Twi'lek killings?" he asked.

"Nothin'. I mind my own business. 'sWhat keeps the clientele around here coming back. I don't ask no questions."

Arata chewed on the inside of his cheek. He should have expected this kind of stonewalling. It's not like a barkeep would be witness to a murder. But that didn't mean his first statement was necessarily true. He could know something without necessarily knowing he knew it. But how to get at that information?

"Okay," Arata said slowly. "What about anything suspicious? Notice anything weird around here recently?"

"Depends on your definition of weird. Those aliens are always complaining about something or another."

"Humor me."

The barkeep huffed. "Fine. One chick a week or so back complained about some guy staring at her out on the street. Thought he meant to force himself on her."

Arata frowned. "A guy? Did she tell you what he looked like?"

The barkeep shrugged. "Tall, scaly skin, and she said he had something growing out of his face. Sounds to me like she was on spice."

Arata didn't think so. In wide galaxy with billions of species, he was sure that description at least fit a couple. But it did nothing to narrow down their possible suspects. He pulled out his phone, sat it on the bar, and hit a button that displayed the holos of their killer's eleven victims. "This girl. She look anything like any of these?"

The barkeep scanned the faces. "Nah, she's not there. She is over there, though." He pointed to a table obscured by the shadows in the corner of the bar. "Talk to her yourself."

Arata thanked him and put away his phone. He had a feeling they would have better luck with the Twi'lek girl. Kanan was a cop, after all, and she had wanted help. Maybe he could convince her to tell him what she knew. @llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Thanks to Arata's Jedi mind tricks, the bartender was helpful and somewhat forthcoming. At least the Jedi Order had taught the Padawan a thing or two before sending him off on his first mission without so much as a weapon.

Together, the unlikely pair approached the corner of the bar where, upon closer inspection, a lone Twi'lek sat. She was no more than twenty-two or twenty-three years old, with deep purple skin and lekkus that draped over her shoulders.

"Mind if we have a seat?" Kanan asked, not waiting for an answer before he slid into the booth across from her.

"You a cop?"

"A Sector Ranger." He looked over at Arata. "And a Jedi," he added, since that seemed to make a difference. "We have a few questions we'd like to ask you if you don't mind."

The Twi'lek let out a long, pained sigh. A bowl of dark gray soup sat in front of her, apparently untouched. Inside the bowl, something was still alive and moving. "Sure. Why not? My lunch is ruined anyway."

"We're looking into the recent Twi'lek murders—"

"And you assume that because I'm a Twi'lek I must be a dancer, right?" She glared and crossed her arms.

Kanan stared at her. "No. The bartender told us that a man tried to force himself on you a week ago. He might be the man responsible for this string of killings."

"Oh." Her shoulders relaxed, her yellow eyes raking over the two men. "I'm surprised Rocky told you that. He's not usually so... talkative. Anyway, it's not the same guy. Trust me, I don't think murder was what he had in mind."

The Sector Ranger decided not to comment on that, instead pushing for more information. "Did you report the incident to the local security officers?"

"The cops?" she scoffed. "Are you serious? Like they'd do anything about it. They don't give two bantha ticks about what happens to us."

"Do you mind telling us exactly what happened?"

The Twi'lek appeared to be surprised that the two of them were actually interested, but she proceeded to answer the question in detail. "I was on my dinner break. I always come here on my break because it's got the cheapest food in the neighborhood."

She stared at the bowl of soup in front of her. "Maybe there's a reason for that... Afterwards, I head outside but feel like I'm being followed. I'm from Nar Shaddaa, and a girl gets a sixth sense for that sort of thing. I turn around, and there's this guy standing there right behind me. Just staring at me."

"Did you see his face?"

"Not really. It was dark, and the street light was out at the time. He was tall though, and all of his clothing was black. Scaly looking fellow with horns. I think he might have had really dark eyes. He called out to me, called me 'darlin,' but I ignored him. Kept walking. He followed, and that's when I really got nervous. I pulled my hold-out—"

Her yellow eyes snapped to the Sector Ranger. "Perfectly legal, mind you... I have a license and everything. I tell him I'm going to blast him if he doesn't back off. That's when Rocky comes moseying out of the bar with the trash. The next thing I know, this fellow's gone. Disappeared like a ghost."

"Would you recognize his voice if you heard it again?"

She considered his question, eventually answering, "Yeah, I think so."

At least that was something. "Could we escort you down to security forces headquarters and help you file a statement?"

"No kriffing way."

Kanan set his jaw, annoyed. "If you'll file a statement, Worlport Security Forces can offer you protection. It's possible that you're our killer's next intended target."

She laughed. "I know this killer's type—Twi'lek dancers. I might be a Twi'lek, but I sure ain't no dancer. I gave up that line of work months ago. I've finally carved out a decent life for myself, and I'm no psycho's plaything."

"I must insist that you at least provide us with your name and address of residence." He pushed pen and paper across the table. If she refused protection, the least Kanan could do was make sure Worlport officers swung by her place to check on her every once in a while.

"Whatever. The name's Ivory. I work at the clothing shop two blocks over." She jotted down her address, a two-bit apartment building they had passed on their way over. "I gotta get back to work now. See you boys around."

"At least let us give you a ride."

Ivory shook her head. "Look, mister. I get that you rangers and Jedi are the macho type and get your kicks by saving others, but I'm no damsel, y'hear? I grew up on the streets of Nar Shaddaa. I can take care of myself."

The Sector Ranger watched her walk across the bar and disappear out the front door, frowning as he drummed his fingers against the table.

@Mockingjay​

 

[Arata]

Arata watched her go. It was hard for him to untangle what he was feeling. Back on Keelia, there was no local police force. The men of the village defended their homes, but there simply weren't enough people living there to justify a police presence. So, he'd never really seen the system fail as it had here. But it also meant he wasn't ready to give up on Ivory yet.

"There's something she's not telling us," he said to Kanan. He didn't know how he could tell, but he could feel it. Somehow he just knew this wasn't the first time she had been stalked. "She said something about 'knowing his type.' Sure, she could have been keeping up with the news but I don't think that's it. I think she's seen her stalker a couple of times. Thinks he won't make a move because she's a former dancer."

He weighed their options. They could follow her, of course. That would be the easiest path to take. But tailing her might tip her stalker off. More importantly, if they were caught, she might not trust them to help her when the time came. As much as he didn't want to leave her alone, there had to be a better option.

"Why don't we examine where she reported the stalker?" he suggested. "Maybe he left something behind in the rubbish, or maybe there might be some other clues in that alley that can lead us to him. It's a long shot—" The longest shot, actually "—but trailing her would be fruitless and we don't have any other leads at the moment."

Unless, of course, Kanan had seen something he hadn't. @llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Arata was right. Following Ivory was a risky move that could possibly alert her would-be stalker. Or anyone else on the streets for that matter. There was no telling what kind of dirt she held on the locals, and they wouldn't be happy if they knew she'd been talking to rangers and Jedi.

Checking the alleyway was their next best option, even if it would most likely turn up nothing. Dozens—possibly hundreds of people could have passed through that alleyway in the last week, but if they were lucky the pair would discover some clue that hadn't been compromised.

"It's worth a shot," Kanan agreed, sliding out of the dark booth and slipping out the back door.

Parallel to the Sarlacc Dive stretched a long, slender alleyway. Durasteel dumpsters lined the back-street, piled to the brim with trash. Flies buzzed overhead, and the entire alleyway reeked of alcohol, rotting food scraps, and urine.

"Welcome to Worlport," the ranger muttered to himself. His brown eyes ran the expanse of the alley. On the street corner sat a lamp post, its housing intact. It was a little too convenient that it happened to be out the night Ivory was almost attacked.

Eventually, his gaze fell on the dumpsters again. One of them would need to look through the dumpsters, even if it was just a cursory once over. Kanan could have easily handed over the dirty work to Arata and insisted he do it, but it was the teenager's first investigation. No need to discourage him when he was just starting out. As much as Kanan dreaded the thought of digging through garbage. Again.

Before the ranger reached the dumpsters, he spotted something on the other side of them. Crouching down, he picked up a snuffed out cigarette. It was one half a dozen that covered the stone alleyway, cast to the ground as if someone had been standing there waiting for a long time. They were an expensive brand, not the kind you'd usually find discarded in back alleys. Either someone had expensive taste or they'd been stolen from someone who did.

"Cigarettes," Kanan voiced, placing a few of them in a clear, plastic bag. "They could belong to anyone, but if your hunch about that scaly fellow is right, they could be his. He could've stood behind this dumpster, waiting for Ivory to come out that night. With the lamp post out, no one would have noticed him."

@Mockingjay​