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2008-05-06 - Visiting Hours Awry

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"Ain't got one." Anneke says, pausing for a moment. "Well, sorta. Ain't very good though." She picks up the water and sips it, holding the cup between both hands. "Got stabbed by a ganger. Got away and hid in Treasure Ship, that's where they found me." The man narrows his eyes, takes in a deep breath, and then leans back as he raises a brow. "Let's try this again," he begins, resting his hands within his lap, fingers interlacing. "I don't care if you want to be quick or concise, but let's hear it with more accuracy towards events and timings. Specifics." "Come quietly," he advises.

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2008-05-06

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CorSec Officer, Anneke, Rem Dolor , Obi-Wan Kenobi, Wilhuff Tarkin

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Visiting Hours Awry

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Rem is captured, again.

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Dash, Rem

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Paying a visit to her homeworld to do some good deeds, the Black Imperium's new Lady Admiral finds herself at a lightsaber's end.

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Corellia: Coronet Casualty Center - Treatment Room

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"Ain't got one." Anneke says, pausing for a moment. "Well, sorta. Ain't very good though." She picks up the water and sips it, holding the cup between both hands. "Got stabbed by a ganger. Got away and hid in Treasure Ship, that's where they found me." The man narrows his eyes, takes in a deep breath, and then leans back as he raises a brow. "Let's try this again," he begins, resting his hands within his lap, fingers interlacing. "I don't care if you want to be quick or concise, but let's hear it with more accuracy towards events and timings. Specifics." "I run with other beggars." Anneke says, "I was staying in an abandoned warehouse, and the Blue Knives didn't take too kindly to it this morning." A small time group at best, probably in control of a block or two. "One of 'em used to be in the orphanage, used to be a friend. But I wouldn't be his girlfriend, and... so one of the others tried to stab me as an example. There's a hole in one of the fences, I'm small, I fit through it, the blokes in their gang couldn't follow me." "Then perhaps you should consider stepping back onto the road of responsibility, and accountability. Do something for yourself. That is a foolish lifestyle," says the sergant. He stands, clasps his hands behind his back, and shakes his head. "Stay in contact with us. Our new administration, beneath the L'hnnar government, is doing a lot to help everyone. Especially those like yourself, in similar situations." "That's easier to say than do." Anneke says. "I ain't really got anything I could do. The streets are all I know." She looks down into the glass. "No one ever adopted me, so ain't like I had a chance. Treasure ship was the furthest I've ever been from the slums." A soft click of shoes, and a blonde woman enters the treatment room, looking rather lost, or perhaps nostalgic. Hard to tell behind the dark glasses that hide a good portion of her face. "Oh." Cara's mouth forms a little 'o' of surprise as she spots an officer in the area. "I.. didn't know anyone was here." She gives the girl a concerned frown, noting her attire and state. At the moment, Anneke's probably in a hospital gown. At least she got cleaned up while being here! She looks between the soldier and Cara." Um, hello." She says, as surprised by the awkwardness as Cara must be. Again, the sergant shakes his head. "Like I said, times are changing. If you want to change too, then you at least have to set that foot forward and launch yourself. It isn't just going to happen." A pause. "You're right, it is easier said than done, but it's far from impossible, or even 'bad odds'. The option is there for you." The CorSec officer brings his neutral gaze to the newly arrived woman, brow raising once more. "Then why would you come back here?" asks the man, holding a hand towards the teenager -- palm outward -- as he begins to move to intercept. Cara blanches slightly, then regains her composure and squares her shoulders. "Curious, is all. Is it a crime to enter hospitals now?" she asks defensively. Anneke looks between the two for a moment, finishing that glass of water. "Just... don't know how. I'm not anything but." She says, quietly, pulling her legs up to her chest. She still seems scared, and deathly uncertain of herself. "No. But this is the treatment wing, and if you expected it to be empty... Step free of your horse; you know where I am coming from, and were you in my position, would be following the same line of questioning." The man pauses for another short moment, eyeing the older of the two humen females before he looks towards the teenager. "This obviously isn't the best place for it, but like I said, stay in contact. We have several offices across Corellia, and are always willing to help." "What's this? Have you been tormenting this poor child?" Cara puts a hand on her hip and marches right over. "Have you CorSec officers no shame? Well, I can see why Corsica's had its share of protests." Nose in the air, with quite the determination, the woman pokes the man in the chest with her right hand. "Has he been bothering you, dear?" she asks over her shoulder. The man easily dismisses the woman's poke with his left hand, pushing the other's down and away. "I would greatly suggest you not do that again." He looks to the girl, letting her answer for herself, and then brings his attention to Cara once more. "I cannot remember the last one of those. I'm not here to argue politics with you, though," he stops, and, once more, looks at the teenage girl. "Thank you for your statement." He then turns to leave. "Just asking about what happened." Anneke says, "And trying to offer options." She takes a deep breath and pulls her blanket up to her chin as she sits there with her knees pulled to her chest. "I can't believe I got a bed here." She muses, to herself as much as anything. "Thank you, sir." She says as the man begins to leave. Cara snorts, watching the officer leave. "Oh, what is Corellia coming to, when children are hurt like this, in Coronet." Rather overdramatically, the woman puts the same hand she'd been poking with to her forehead. "What happened, dear?" she turns her full attentions to the girl. "Ain't so uncommon as you'd think." Anneke says, "It's just the way it is in the slums. What's age got to do with it?" Her tone somber, but quite matter of fact and accepting of it too. "Just sucks for us down there." "Don't I know it." Cara says cooly, a more reserved, rough voice, once the officer is long out of sight. "From Corsica, then?" "Yeah." The teenager says. "I'll probably have to stowaway back there when things blow over. The Knives'll probably stop caring about me in a couple weeks." She says. "Seems harder to make my way here though." "He's right, even if stiff." Cara says with a wry smile. "The slums are very much a cage, especially if you're poor." The older woman sighs. "At least.. it's getting better." She pauses for a moment, then reaches into her skirts with her right hand and draws out a credit chip. "Here," she hands it to the girl. "Use it wisely. If there's anything left after medical bills, use it to find your way." Soft, her voice is, now. Anneke blinks a few times as that is offered to her, she holds out her hand and shakes her head emphatically. "I'm a beggar, but I couldn't accept this. This is way too much." Somehow, she looks more pale than she did before. "I think someone paid for it anyways." Cara raises her hand firmly. "Someone gave me the same chance, in my youth. Keep it, and use it wisely." Then, the hand goes up to her glasses, which she lowers just enough to show that she's winking (her left eye), before snapping them back into place. "Just don't mix spice and lum," sagely advice with a mischievous grin. A blast door opens and someone walks inside, drenched in rain water. The person looks around through a hood, which drips onto the clean floor, as the blast doors close behind him with a snap. Standing in front of the door, the person continues to look around. Anneke's mouth opens and shuts a few times. She's probably never seen this much money at once. "I.. how can I.." Then she just breaks into tears. "I'm worried I'd lose it. More gangers, or other beggars..." Currently, she's in one of the treatment rooms, on a hospital bed. Probably quite far from the entrance. Cara lays the hand on the girl's shoulder, small and comforting. "Put it in the bank," a lame suggestion. "Fretting it over too much is too much trouble." Rather quiet in the treatment room, the snap of the blast doors brings the woman's head up. Obi-Wan Kenobi pulls back his hood and walks forward towards Cara. He moves slowly, though with some purpose. "I've tracked you for a long time," he explains calmly, "but now you cannot escape. Rem Dolor, you're under arrest for crimes against the Republic, including treachery and murder." He pulls free a metal cylindar from his belt. "Come quietly," he advises. "Thank you.. Thank you again." She says, genuinely, still confused but the words are genuine as she holds the credits carefully, trying to horde them already. Anneke's eyes suddenly go wide as Obi-Wan arrives in the room and she sees him and hears him call for Cara, or is it Rem's, arrest. "What... no... what?" Cara stiffens. "Don't worry," she says softly to the girl and swallows tensely before turning to Obi-Wan. "I'm sorry, you must have me confused with someone else. My name is Cara. Cara Mustard." She procures an ID from her robes and takes a few steps closer to present it. "Cara Mustard," he repeats. "If you would, please, take off your glasses. This Rem Dolor I'm searching for, she has a very distinct marker. I will only need to see beneath your glasses to verify." Anneke pulls her blanket up tightly, watching this with wide, unblinking eyes. She's tense, scared even. Yet she seems ready to react if she needs to. "What? And you'll have me disrobe, next?" Cara questions hotly, raising her voice. "You've some nerve, whoever you are." With a haughty upturn of her nose, the woman steps around the Jedi and makes for the exit, shoes snapping angrily against the durasteel flooring. Obi-Wan lets her pass, then calmly says, "Your shuttle is locked down, and you won't be permitted to get into the Corsica spaceport. I've had it locked down." He turns and begins to follow her. "There are soldiers waiting with orders to kill you on sight. A woman of your exact description. But even with your stealth buckle you won't escape." "Don't make me use force." Anneke continues to sit there on her hospital bed with her blankets tightly held around her, starting to shiver now that the immediate threat of violence is a bit further away from her. But she's by no means lost that tense edge. "You're awfully convinced of yourself, mister." Cara scoffs. "Coming into a hospital, making such a scene." She raises her voice a little to call back to Anneke, "Terribly sorry, dear. Hope you feel better." And with a couple few more angry, determined steps, she's at the door, which opens automatically to the dark downpour outside. "I can't let you leave through that door. You'll be shot." Kenobi raises his hand... COMBAT:: Obi-Wan Kenobi hurls a medical droid toward Cara! COMBAT:: Cara tries to dodge, but Obi-Wan Kenobi's flying debris lightly wounds her. ... and a droid rushes towards her legs. Cara grunts in pain as a droid slams into her legs. Briefly, she stumbles, catching herself awkwardly on the door frame. The left sleeve of her robe flaps uselessly. Turning, she scowls angrily at Kenobi. "The frag? I think I'll take my chances in the rain, you crazy nerf herder." And she promptly pulls herself up, and slips out into the next room. This? This is exactly what she was afraid of... except this whole Jedi thing. Anneke suddenly rolls off of the bed and tries to find something to hid behind, wincing in pain only after that adrenaline fueled attempt. She's eerily silent, though, watching with wide, barely blinking eyes. Obi-Wan follows her out, this time igniting his saber. "I am not joking," he comments. "They will not hesitate, nor will I. Just let me arrest you before I have to do something you will regret." COMBAT:: Obi-Wan Kenobi ignites his blue lightsaber. "... Frag you!" Rem calls back, already in a hasty step outside. Skirts and left sleeve billowing behind her, Cara--Rem makes quick stride to the doors, occasionally casting a weary look over her shoulder. Obi-Wan rushes to the white doors with a sprint and holds his saber up. "I know that you are a warrior, and that you would rather die than be caught, but do not force me to strike you down. This is your last warning, and the soldiers will give you none." He bars her exit. "All you Jedi. All the same." Rem spits angrily. "So ready to jump to arms, to kill." She takes a couple steps back, and lowers a hand to her waist to activate the comlink there. "To protect," he corrects her. His lightsaber lowers a little, buzzing faintly with energy. "Just come quietly. Come quietly and do not force me to do what you know I will." "Lies, Jedi." Rem's frown deepens. "Empty rhetoric, just like the Warlord's." She glances down at the comsystem, and bites her lower lip. An anguised look crosses her features, yet she grits out, "I've the scars of your 'protection'." "Just get on your knees and let me put some cuffs on you before you walk into a death trap, Dolor," Obi-Wan says. "Or before I have to use this," he indicates his lightsaber. He says nothing more. "Cuffs? Cuffs?!" Rem gasps out, quite amused, then lets out a small, cruel chortle. "You don't need those at all." She moves slowly, drawing up her left sleeve with her right hand. It's empty. She chuckles softly through the process. "Come on," he instructs. And, unless she moves to run again, he moves to escort her from the building. "You'll arrest me, maybe. And, then what? I'll die at the hands of your commanders." Rem continues to laugh under her breath, even when grabbed. "Fine, suit yourself, Jedi. If this is what it takes to show the Republic's true colors..." The woman's head rolls to the side, away from the Jedi. "Sweet Euphemia, I'm so sorry for breaking another promise," she whispers sadly. "I'm sure they'll opt to use a prisoner exchange," Obi-Wan says while walking forward, past the door. "Stop acting like a drunken maniac or I'll put in my report that you've lost your marbles." He moves on, out into the rain, clutching her arm tightly. "Drunken maniac?" Rem huffs. "Merely lamenting on my sad fortune." Rain pours out of the night's sky. Two figures, one gripping the other's arm and holding a burning, blue saber, emerge through the blast doors and step into the spaceport. The one holding the other, a man in robes, approaches the Elysian Guard. "Moff Tarkin," Obi-Wan requests. The commander of the Elysian Guard nods his head at two of his subordinates, who assume a flanking position of the Jedi and his prisoner. The commander mutters into his comlink and points at the Empyrean, where Wilhuff Tarkin descends from the boarding ramp. "General Kenobi," he says, clasping his hands together, smiling cordially. "Most excellent. You have done a great service to the Republic." Stumbling after the Jedi is a miserable, wet woman, blonde hair clinging to her face, red robes darkened by rainwater. Drenched, the left sleeve appears depressingly empty, lacking an arm to give it shape. Cara wears a discontent scowl, no doubt attempting to develop latent throat-crushing Force powers with a glare, behind her dark glasses. Obi-wan flicks his lightsaber off with a whoosh, and the steam shimmering off its blade ceases. His hand releases Cara and then he nods to Tarkin. "I apologize for the delay." Water trickles down his chin where some hair has begun to grow. "I will leave her to you, as well as her shuttle and.. something else." He steps forward. "She hasn't been searched. Expect my report in two hours." "This is madness!" Cara protests vehemently. "You've the wrong woman." Her arm free, she pushes her glasses up into her hair.. and reveals that she does, in fact, have two eyes, bright blue in color. She squints to keep the rain out. Tarkin gives Obi-Wan a look, then says, "Very well. Commander, search her. Provide her with a prisoner's jumpsuit and bring her aboard Elysium. Oh, and I want her blindfolded and--cuff that remaining hand to something, won't you?" His eyes linger on a Z-95 Headhunter nearby for a moment, and he shakes his head. "If she causes trouble, shoot her. Set for stun, of course." Obi-Wan Kenobi pulls his hood up and begins to pass through the Elysian Guard, but pauses and turns. "Oh, and Moff Tarkin, if you would be so kind, entertain me over tea tomorrow after next. There are a few things I wish to discuss." "What are you doing?" Cara hisses. "Unhand me, nerf herder! Watch that finger, fragger! Hey, don't touch that!" And a wide other assortment of colorful swears from the deepest parts of the Rim as the woman is searched and, to some extent... cuffed. A collection of interesting toys and weapons spills from her skirts throughout the process. Finally, blindfolded, but hardly silenced, the cold, wet cripple is shoved up after the Moff, spewing curses enough to make a seasoned scoundrel blush. "I will instruct my assistants to look for you," responds Tarkin as the Elysians begin escorting their prisoner aboard the Lancer Cruiser. "The Republic will reward your service." "Until tea, then," Obi-Wan replies. He turns and moves for his ship, then boards a moment later.