Join Date: Jan 2006
Location: White City
Current Game: Homeworld: Deserts of Kharak
Inner Darkness Chronicles
The Middle City is a very interesting place. Lots of different and intriguing people. When it comes to residential areas, Coruscant is divided into three sections: the Upper City, with all its glamour – politicians, corporates and the rest of the capital's ''elite'' and, of course, who could forget the righteous Jedi; the Lower City is a complete opposite, down there you can find the poorest of the poor and the worst of the scum, beggars, thieves, smugglers and pretty much everyone who has less than enough credits, or a beef with the law. Black and white. This is why I find the Middle City so interesting. It represents a border between the two. A gray area where the opposites melt together.
Indeed, you can see pretty much everyone here. A representative from absolutely every layer of this great society. And they all mingle together. I swear, I've seen the most unbelievable of combinations. Politicians and smugglers, beggars and thieves, assassins and... pretty much everyone. This is why I love the place so much. It shows the truth to me. Keeps me sharp. Careful.
The Middle City marketplace is probably my favorite part of the place. Everything can be bought here, from the most expensive deathsticks, to the latest in clothing, or transportation and to the most sophisticated weapons. Heck, there are people here who sell things as obscene as dead rats. Strangely enough, there are just as much people who actually buy those things. So why do I love this place so much? Most of the people here are criminals, the place is dark, you can see all sorts of disgusting things here and, on top of it all, the place smells like grilled gizka. Oh, yes. One of the finest delicacies here. Personally, I never found that particular food appealing.
The reason I love the marketplace so much is the purpose I use it for. The mixture of people from every part of Coruscant makes it a great hiding place. From who, you would ask. Well, from the Jedi, of course. You see, the good old benevolent Jedi don't like it very much when one of their own decides to give them the finger, so they send out patrols to find the person in question and bring them back for a cup of conversation with the Jedi Council. It's been more than a century since the last great Sith threat was defeated and yet they still live in fear of the Dark Side. Or so they say. I've heard of a few cases during my own stay at the Jedi Temple, cases similar to my own in the way that they decided to leave the Order without saying goodbye. After their enlightening talk with the Council, the persons in question were either stripped of their powers and let go; sent to the Jedi's own psychiatric ward, which I doubt practiced anything related to psychiatry; or they would suddenly ''see the light'' and return to the Order.
None of the offered options seems very appealing to me, which is why I'm here. The Jedi's untrained senses are blinded by the energy mixture of the Middle City, while my own senses feed off that same energy, they sharpen themselves almost with no effort from me and point out the patrols in the crowd easily. Yes, the Jedi are portrayed to me in a very unique image. And it's not very pretty. Unfortunately, after almost three months of failing to find me, the number of Jedi patrols has increased significantly. They are nothing, if not persistent.
This brings me to the second reason of my today's visit to the Middle City marketplace. As I have mentioned before, this place offers a variety of the most sophisticated and most elegant weaponry. Yes, yes, I know, I don't need a weapon, I have my lightsaber, right? Wrong! In order to sever all ties to the hypocritical Jedi I got rid of everything that came from them. The clothes and their famed weapon. I threw it all into the huge garbage refining section that occupies the very surface of the planet. Everything, except for the credits. What can I say, I need the money.
Now, let's get back to the business at hand. Weapons. Probably the most demanded commodity on the gray market. And it comes in so many sizes, shapes, even colors. Long ranged, short ranged, melee, or weapons of mass destruction, believe it or not, it's all here, for the right price. But, blades are what I'm looking for. I guess, it's logical, considering I've been trained most of my life to use a blade in combat. However, I always like to try new things, which is why, out of all the beautiful and elegant energy and vibroswords, a pair of knives has caught my eye.
Oooooo, how elegant they are. Their bronze handles, each with a small dark blue diamond at the bottom and beautiful carvings all over the rest of them. Blades out of pure silver with double, razor-sharp edges and even more stunning markings grow out of the handles and show their slightly curved shape, widening by a few milimetres halfway through and then joining in a pointy peak. Of course, both daggers have been processed with that brand new transparent cortosis liquid solution, making them extra strong and enabling them to keep that luxurious appearance. They are perfect.
Unfortunately, the same can most definitely not be said for the salesman. Ordinary people would see him as a sweaty, unshaved and overweight, middle aged human, wearing clothes that look like they've been stolen from a senator's trash can. They'd describe this person as a typical slimy dealer. I, on the other hand, have a very different view on the world. My description of this guy would be much, much worse. Thanks to my little gift of seeing through the surface, this guy appears to my eyes as a rotting, charred demon with a rodent's face and glass-like red eyes. Oh yes, my vision has evolved, courtesy of the time spent in the streets and little to no alone time. The rest of his body appears to me no differently than any other person's – dead flesh, with an open rib cage, showing the man's heart. This is still the crucial distinction – the aura around the heart. It shows to me as glowing smoke and with this person it's gray. Fitting to the spirit of the Middle City.
The rodent-faced salesman names his enormous price for the weapon I desire. Not even a double amount of the credits I currently possess would be enough to satisfy his greed. Luckily, I still use those tricks I learned from the Jedi. And I must say I do enjoy toying with the minds of this kind of people. It's pretty much the only pass time I can afford. After a minute, or two Rodent Face is suddenly willing to generously give me the daggers. I, of course, accept his kind offer, take the weapons and leave. And none too soon, for two Jedi patrols have decided to sweep the marketplace. I see them clearly, their hearts glow with purple smoke. No doubt this represents their aim to hide the seed of darkness within them.
The Middle City favors me once again and allows me to lose myself in the crowd before the patrols spot me. Now that the shopping's done and the pursuers evaded I can at last go to my charming new home and get some desired alone time.