Friends in High Places (open)

[Janus]

First things first: I got no problem with cops, okay?

Now, I don't like 'em or anything. That'd be pretty retarded, growing up in the Old District and all, 'cause you see a lot of them and they aren't exactly all that friendly when they come-a-slumming down here. But there're decent ones out there. The nicer guys even kind of try and steer the Old kids in some kind of positive direction, for all the good it does. I know a few okay dudes, kinda watched me grow up and went easy on me when I was younger, while they could. So I don't raise much of a fuss when they get me fair and square 'cause honestly, they usually don't either. A few nights up at the precinct and then I'm out on my feet again, usually with a couple creds to go get something to eat.

So I got no problem with cops. Usually.

Once in a while you get stuck with a rookie. Officers trying to prove a point, thinking they can intimidate you, nail a petty thief and the Chief's respect all in one pretty package. And let me tell you, it's the chicks that are the worst. It's like some paranoid need to prove they're better than the guys that makes 'em act like a frelling bounty hunter on a stim binge. When you get caught by a newb, it means you've got a long day ahead of you. Processing alone can take hours.

The day had started out great. I'm one of the luckier boys down in Olds. I've got a place to stay, and I usually manage to scrape up a meal or two every day. Anyways, it was a little after nine when I woke up and Ovid and Berken, the two guys who hole up in the room with me, were just back from their corner. They're a couple of glitbiters but they're an okay sort and we've palled around for a few years.

"I'm hungry." Ovid is just about the only fat streetkid I know. I mean, the guy can practically pass for a Hutt, which makes things difficult in our small quarters. He's always hungry and half of our jaunts are motivated by his need to refuel.

I rolled my eyes and sat up, kicking the grungy sheet off my legs and looking around for my shirt. I'd thrown it off sometime in the night and it was lost in the sea of dirty laundry and trash that covered the floor. "What else is new?" From the heap in the corner I found a pullover that was only mostly dirty, and slipped it on. "You got any creds?"

Ovid shook his head. Berken had already taken my place on the bed, had probably been up all night trying to make a profit with death sticks, and was sound asleep. "Naw, you?"

"No. Wanna go up to Sah'c? Maybe do a couple B and E's, catch a 'cab over to CoCo Town afterwards." Ovid shrugged, which I took to mean yes, and so we left, Berken's snores following us. After about five minutes of walking Ovid was huffing and wanted to stop. I shoved him. "Jeepers, Ovie, get it together." He closed his mouth then and wouldn't talk to me the rest of the way--not that he could've if he'd wanted to, he was sweatin' the hike so much. By the time we made it up to CoCo I felt bad for him. "Listen, why don't you just chill here and wait for me, alright?"

"Good idea, Jan. It'd be kind of suspicious if you an' me both went." He sat down on a bench, wiping his forhead with his sleeve. I shook my head and clapped his meaty shoulder. Ovie was alright.

I never actually got to the whole robbery end of the plan. In fact, I'd barely gone two blocks before this rookie cop stopped me, searched me--which, by the way, was totally unfair--and came up with my last two deathsticks. Now, as a rule, I don't use; I'm not stupid. There's just a lot of creds to be made with dealing and so once in a while I dabble in sales. You do what you gotta do to survive. I'm not a big player in the market and so I've never had any trouble from it. Until today.

Which is why now, six hours later, I'm sitting in this really frellin' uncomfortable chair, with this really frellin' uppity guy, getting really frellin' fuming.

"Listen guy, there're people here who know me. I help a lotta your people out with names and bust info and junk."

The cop ignores me completely. Which really ticks me off. So I speak a little louder. "Man, I'm telling you, I'm not someone you should be wasting your time on! I'm small fish!"

"Settle down, kid." He says, and he's got this smirkish look on his face that makes my fists ball up. I want to smack the lips right off the guy. I'm hungry, I'm stiff, and I'm getting sick of this louse's power trip. I stand up and he gets all tense.

"Don't call me kid. I'm not a kid. This is enough, dude, you've had your jollies and shown everyone that you're a real tough guy and all but I'm about ready to--"

"You need to sit down. Now."

I ignore him. "No. I've been sitting for hours. I'm numb. Just ask around for anyone who knows Janus. I'm going to get a caf from the machine and when I get back we'll sort this out because it's ridiculous." I know where the vending machines are, I've fed a lot of creds to them, and I turn to head down the corridor. Out of the corner of my eye I see the man go to grab my shoulder and on instinct I bat his hand away, annoyed. In a split second the moron tackles me, shoving my head against the wall so hard I think my nose is liable to break. He's yelling and twisting my arm back and I'm breathing in white-hot gasps and getting ready to just completely lose it. "Try attack me you scum punk brat, huh? Huh?"

"GET THE FRELL OFF ME YOU FRELLING--Mmph!" My mouth is mashed against the wall. I slam my head back as hard as I can and jerk around, shoving the guy in his chest as hard as I can. He only goes back a few inches but it's enough room for me to get ready to haul off and clock the guy. My fist goes back. "DON'T FRELLING TOUCH ME!" I'm about to punch him, which I know is just about the dumbest thing I can do, when a vice grip fits itself around my wrist and I'm literally hauled off my feet and yanked into an office.

A real recognizable one.

It's weird, feeling relief and dread at the exact same time. My shoulders relax a little, but I drop my gaze because there's no way I'm gonna make eye contact with this familiar figure. That'd be suicide. "Oh. Hey."

[Kajeela Tarruurri]

"Hejy...?" Kajeela's eyes narrow in annoyance and Janus can tell without looking that her tail is twitching slightly. More than anything, the Cizerack hates (and she hates alot of things - cold coffee, woolley jumpers, ants and the like) but more than anything, Kajeela hates lazy non-words from street punks that pass off as a greeting or acknowledgement of some kind.

"Hejy..?"

Yep, the tail was definitely twitching, Janus could hear the faint swoosh it made as it brushed the dented metal filing cabinet behind her. The self-same filing cabinet that held a thousand and one details on a thousand and one lowlife individuals that crawled on their thin lowlife bellies through the precinct door every day. Kajeela probably hated all them, too.

The steel grip around Janus' wrist releases the moment his rump finds the dubious stability of a rackety wooden chair that has to be atleast 6 decades old by the groans it makes underneath his meagre weight.

The officer from whom Janus has just been delivered is lingering in the doorway - cheated from what (he is sure) would have been a very satisfying head-staving, he briefly entertains crossing inside. This would be a mistake. He knows it. They all know it.

"Don't be an jidjiot, Thamesss" she warns, clearly intimating that she already thought him just such an idiot.

Thames smiled at Janus, a smile of promise that there will be other days and would have said something, only the door shutting in his face forstalled him.

Kajeela, already turned away and locking those green-grey eyes back onto Janus, returns to her "hey-ing."

"Yjou arrre ljike that bad crrredit chjit...alwajysss turrrnjing up. jI made jit clearrr to jyou last time that jyou werrre not to be ssseeen jin herrre agajin, djidn't jI?"

[Janus]

The thing about the chair is, it's all part of the intimidation process. It makes you feel like you have no ground, like you have to keep shifting or else it--and then everything else--will fall apart. It leaves you tense and annoyed and gives whoever isn't sitting in it the advantage. This chair used to scare the crap out of me when I was, like, twelve. But that was before I found out that this chair can take an awful frelling lot.

I know this because, more than once, I've been hurled onto it with enough force to blindside a bantha.

I'm still squirming though, 'cos I've long since realized that it isn't what I get tossed onto in this office that I should worry about, but who does the tossing: Kajeela.

My eyes are glued to the tile because I've never bought that 'look your death in the face' bravery BS. With Kajeela it's best to be cowed.

Frell I wish her tail would stop twitching.

"Yjou arrre ljike that bad crrredit chjit...alwajysss turrrnjing up. jI made jit clearrr to jyou last time that jyou werrre not to be ssseeen jin herrre agajin, djidn't jI?"

Before I can stop myself I snort, which makes me wince because my nose bloody kills. "Yeah well Wondercop didn't get the memo. What kind of psychos are you grinding out nowadays?"

[Kajeela Tarruurri]

The kid had a point, of sorts. Seemed these days all the Distric was getting recruited were juiced-up-vigilante types who wanted a uniform to go along with the skullcracking baton's the Force were handing out. Or, the dumb-as-a-post types who failed the Military screening exam and were pidgeonholed into law enforcement as a close second. Thames oscilated between these two poles on any given day. It was, sadly, a new Coruscant City Roulette that Kajeela and her old-school departmental peers were increasingly having to accommodate.

But she wasn't about to tell the kid that.

"And jI sssuppossse jyou werrre jussst mjindjing jyourrr own busssjinesss, wjith no thoughtsss of crjimjinal actjivjitjisss jin jyourrr head? Asss jinnocent asss the dajy jis long."

There was an abrupt knock at the door, and Tarruurri opened it briskly, took the profferred manila folder with a "grummph" and shut it with a crisp, cold snap.

Sauntering behind the seated Janus, who's gaze was unnaturally fixated on the floor tiles, the felinoid detective leafed the few (two, in fact) pages of Thames paperwork so far on the arrest.

She tossed the file on the desk in front of Janus, the folder making a flat pwap sound as it did landed. She bent slightly and found his eyes - the tips of her pointy little canines making the briefest of appearances as she spoke.

"Deathstjicksss.....?"

[Janus]

"Two. My last two. Which, by the way, I wasn't even trying to sell when I got searched." I hold Kajeela's gaze for a second before flicking away to watch a spider crawl along the edge of the baseboard. I can't help but thank the gods that Ovie wasn't with me because Ovie would flat out fall apart at this point. He'd think Kajeela was about to rip out his throat or something.

My stomach is really started to rumble and I look around for a bowl of nuts or something. Come up empty. "C'mon Kajeela, you know I ain't dealing. All the good neighborhoods are taken already anyways." I shift, causing a chorus of squelching noises from the chair to erupt, and sigh. I reach forward and pull the file off her desk, flipping it open and scanning it with mild interest.

... Young male looked extremely suspicious...

... Alarmingly violent...

... then attacked me with no provocation...

"Buddy can really write. You better lock me up, I'm a frelling mass murder waiting to happen." The file is tossed back onto her desk, papers sticking out in an unruly fashion. "Look, I was just goin' to try and rip some credits so I could catch a meal. That's it."

[Kajeela Tarruurri]

Janus felt the throes of vertigo rise violent and sudden, the flipping sensation in the base of his belly made his hands and feet tingle as they flailed instinctively to rebalance his suddenly upturned center of gravity. Tarrurri had yanked the back of Janus' chair, tilting it so that it, and he, teetered precariously on the creaking ancient legs. Her one hand closed, in what the detective would term as "sssnug" about his throat, pinning him in place. The grey streaked surface of the precinct's ceiling swung into his line of vision, and then, in closer dimensional proximity to his own face, drifted Kajeela's triangular features.

"Who arrre jyou trrryjing to kjid?"

Bright little eyes narrowed to slits.

She could do the kid a favor, she guessed. Throw him into the system into some sort of remand center. At least he would get three squares a day and have a place to sleep at night. But it would only be a bandaid to the crap-shoot his life really was. Just a delaying of the inevitable. Inside, Janus would be fast tracked on the criminal expressway, and Kajeela knew it. He could make all sorts of contacts with those who, on the outside, probably wouldn't give him the time of day -- punk that he was. He would have to work so much harder to get them to even acknowledge him.

Lock up was not the answer.

Neither was having his sorry butt landing in her decrepit wooden chair every other week, costing the ICPD time, money and frelling paper work. Tarrurri growled with the frustration of it all.

She threw her arm and the chair re-righted with an alarming shudder.

"Sssso.....what do jyou sssuggessst we do wjith jyou?"

[Janus]

"Hghu--what?--hghuc," I'm hacking away because my trachea has just been flattened like a piece of rubber tubing and she askes me a loaded question like that? There's no right answer to something like that. I don't even know if she really wants me to answer or if she's just pausing for dramatic effect.

I massage my throat, which is throbbing in a cute little tandem with my schnoz, and try again. "What? What're you asking me for?"

[Kajeela Tarruurri]

Why was she asking him for? What did she care?

Kajeela was no bleeding heart, anyone could tell you that. But she did feel a responsability to her city. Imperial City. And to its citizens. She'd sworn an oath to protect and uphold justice. She was willing to lay down her life to fulfil her duty, such was her dedication.

It just seemed wrong to stamp some file, sign some release and wish the kid a 'cheerio' as she tossed him back out on the streets.


Did he have no hopes of a future? To have a life lived with meaning and purpose? What was it with these huumans and their lack of drive? If the male was in her society, at least he would be able to live the honorable life of a housemale of some kind. Maybe a chauffer or garment maker.

Tarruurri strolled over to the coffee pot sitting on its hotpad and poured herself a good strong cup. She came back, steaming mug in hand, and perched herself on the corner of her desk.

Her ears twizzled in opposing semi-circles which gave her a decidedly odd look. It was a moment or two before she spoke.

"What jif jI could fjind sssomethjing forrr jyou to do -- would jyou do the rrrjight thjing? Trjy to ljive wjithjin the law?"

[Janus]

I blink. This has come so far out of left field that it's impossible to formulate any other response. What is she talking about? And who is this?

I"m sure that I ought to give this some thought but frak, I'm real distracted by her coffee. It's hot and smells great and I'm hungry. I try to keep my eyes from the mug and I can feel the scrunching in my forehead as my eyebrows draw together. This is the typical expression found on a many a lower-level dweller when they come into contact with anyone on the surface. It says, "How are you going to try and frame me this time?". It says, "Do you think I'm a mynock-brained moron?". It also says, "I have no frelling idea what the frell is going on."

"Whadda you mean, like, 'do you want fries with that?' kinda deal?" I make sure to twist my lips so Kajeela can see how much I'd like that. The truth is it's not like I try to get hauled in all the time. And I coulda got a two-bit nine-to-five job eons before this if I'd wanted to. I mean, how many ghetto corner marts are there on this planet, right? But I can get by day to day doing what I do now, and I don't have to put up with any stuck-up airhead customers. When you're born and raised down below, it's easier to stay there.

[Kajeela Tarruurri]

"jI mean" she said, pursing her lips in momentary hesitation as if weighing the wisdom of her proposal. She decided to dispense with such considering - what will be, will be. "jI mean..jICPD jisss takjing jin new rrrecrrrujitsss. jYourrr rrrap sssheet could be mjisssfjiled.."
A crooked eyebrow invited such a possibility.

[Janus]

I'm, like, speechless or something.

Beyond the fact that this is probably the most absurd convo I've ever had with Kajeelah--keeping mind that 'conversation' usually means I'm keepin' my trap shut while she rips me a new one--this is by far the most absurd thing I've ever heard. Me, a cop. Me. Me who's spent the last twenty-two or so years on the other side of the card.

"Are you frellin' kiddin' me?" I ask, hands hanging motionless at my sides. There are so many lines here, it's hard to pull them all together into some sort of sense. First off, I know a heck of a lot of buddies in the neighborhoods doin' stuff that'd get 'em a lifetime in the old Coruscant Pen that I ain't ever gonna rat on. Me, in a position of authority? Frell, those boys'd have a field day with my support. And another thing, how in the hell is Kajeelah ever gonna convince people that I'd be legit?

... Of course, there is a sort of, y'know, appeal to it. I look at her, waiting. "You're pullin' my leg, right? Like, c'mon."

[Kajeela Tarruurri]

"..No.."

She gave Janus a querrilous look - she only had the mug in her hands, his leg was nowhere near her.

Sometimes the huumans made absolutely no sense in the things they said.

"A ssssmarrrt man would sssee the opporrrtunjity beforrre hjim and take jit wjith grrreedjy handsss" she stated bluntly. "Do jI look ljike a kjidderrr to jyou?" Tarruurri held him fast with her shrewd eyes, her thoughts hidden from him. He could turn out to be one of the good ones, if he'd only have a bit of vision. He had a sense of the streets. An in-built survivors aptitude that would serve him well in life as a cop. He was trrrasjinnik..her mind searched for the word in basic ...savy, that was it.

She broke off her look and moved off the edge of her desk to take her seat behind it. Spinning his file right-way-round with one extended finger. "Not mjuch of a ljife ssstorrrjy ssso farrr, jis jit. Want me to tell jyou how jit endsss?"

[Janus]

"Sure." It's hard to keep the sarcasm from my voice and I don't succeed at my next attempt. "Is this gonna be the part where you scare me?"

[Kajeela Tarruurri]

She shouldn't even have bothered, she knew. You cant change a city by good deeds - how many times had her partner, Remkah, told her that. And how many times had she agreed with him. Yet, this punk had moved her to offer him another road. Why? Who knew. Maybe he'd just hit her on a good day, stars knew those were few and far between. Or maybe this job was finally getting to her.

"Ssshorrrt verrrsjion: jyou get harrrd tjime, orrr you'rrre dead jin sssjix monthsss. Long verrrsjion: jin a yearrr"

Kajeela took a gulp of her coffee. Who cares about this kid, not her. Not him. She pushed the buzzer on her desk, which would call an officer in to take Janus to booking.

"Good luck, then" she said, even meaning it.

What a waste.

[Janus]

"Hold on, I didn't mean like, no." I sit up straighter, attentive. She hasn't scared me but that doesn't mean what she's saying isn't true; it is. In fact I'm pretty amazed with myself that I've managed to live this long.

The fact that this offer was even put on the table is pretty fantastic. Or fantastical. Whichever the frell one means unreal. And I know I'm being an idiot but, y'know, you never know when someone's playin' ya. "So what," I shrug and look to the side, real casual. "I gotta like, train and frak? Wear a uniform?"

[Jonas T. Remkah]

"Who's wearin' a uniform?" Remkah asked, stepping into the office and adding a knock as he passed through. This was his custom, every day at this time he'd poke his head in on his partner, see if she needed anything from the diner downstairs - donut, pretzel, hotdog - each day was a different offer, and each day, Tarrurri asked for one thing and one thing only. Fried balony sandwich. But Remkah never tired of tempting her to change.

But today, as he stepped in and caught the tail end of Janus' query, the question of the day was forstalled.

Crossing the room in his casual manner, Detective Jonas T. Remkah grabbed the tuft of Janus collar, tilted him back for a look-see at his face and with an unimpressed "huh," released him again.

"What we got here, Jeels?" only Remkah got away with such informality - a long time partner who always had her back, could. "He the new Janitor?"

His fished in his pocket for his cigarettes while studying Tarrurri's guest with cool scrutiny.

[Kajeela Tarruurri]

"Dont ljite that -- Ijm sjinusssjy today" she brusquely tossed to to her partner. Remkah slipped his half-drawn lighter back into the depths of his pocket and plucked the cigarette from his lips to hold it between his fingers and thumb like some holovid prop.

Kajeela continued, addressing Janus who's attention had been distracted with her partner's arrival. The boy cautiously swivelled his eyes back toward her.

"Ssssome trajinjing, yesss. Sssome wrjitten examsss to prrrove jyou arrre not a complete jidjiot and that jyou can atleassst add." She leaned back in her chair, pushing against it so the spine bent making it squeak loudly. She appeared not to notice. "But...." and her eyes narrowed at Janus in emphasis, "jI would be perrrsonalljy jinvolved, fassst trrrackjing jyourrr prrrogrrresss as jI deem necessssssarrrjy. We could bjypassssss alot of the ussssual rrrjigmarrrollle (a huuman word Kajeela was fond of. It basically meant 'crap'). Yjou wjill learrrn morrre from ussss, anjywajy."

She had no idea what Remkah would make of her proposal, but as in most things, that was neither here or there. Kajeela rarely did not get her own way, once her mind was set to a thing. Life was just so much better for it, and for everyone, if she did.

"Yjou sssstjill thjinnnk jI am trrrjickjing jyou?"

[Janus]

"Nah." I reply to Kajeelah, all the while eyein' the jerk-off who just sauntered in and yanked me back, like I'm some frakkin' piece of art here for the frellin' ambiance. Stuff like that can really wind me up, bein' handled just for the sake of bein' handled. Y'know, sure, do what you gotta do if you're tryin' to haul me in for something legit, that I understand. But just 'cause you think I ain't worth the spit of a handshake? Just 'cause you think you got some kind of right? That dren can really wind me up. It's making my hands twitch, just thinking about it, so I shove 'em into my pockets.

I ain't stupid enough to think this is a standin' offer. This is gold. I mean, this kind of arrangement could set me up for the rest of my days if I play it right.

"Yeah. A'right." My head nods even as my eyes narrow at the 'ussss' part. "Whadda you mean, 'us'?"

I jerk my head at the guy with the smokes. "You mean this guy? Who're you, anyway, pal? I ain't never seen you around."

[Kajeela Tarruurri]

Tarruurri cartwheeled the pen between her nimble fingers, a cat smile on her pert little lips. Janus was going to accept her offer. She felt all fuzzy inside. There was hope for the kid, yet. Which translated to Tarruurri as hope for Imperial City in general, if only one was willing to put in the effort.

"Thjiss jis Jonasss" she said warmly, nodding to her partner. "He jis jyourrr new bessst frrrjiend"

[Jonas T. Remkah]

Remkah fixed Janus with a broad grin, which only served to make him look even more the rogue than before.

"Hows it goin?" he said to Janus, not giving a flying mynock how things were going with him.

What the frell was Tarruurri up to now? She cant just offer scumbags a place on the force because of puppy dog eyes and orphan-boy charm. Or, maybe she could -- no one had ever done that before. By why them? Why him? Somebody should knock some sense into that thick Cizerack head of hers. Lord knows, he'd tried. Not literally. Tarruurri could easily overpower him with that freakish felinoid strength of hers. But he'd argued with her on many points, but this - this recruitment, if he was reading this right - took the trophy.

Remkah tilted his head to Kajeela, his smile fixed in place so that his lips barely moved when he spoke.

"Erm....can we talk for a minit..?"