“And when your dreams are on a train to trainwreck town
Then I ask you now, “What’s a girl to do?”
-Bat for Lashes
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
Kinsa Cavanaugh is not typically a woman someone keeps waiting.
However, her lawyer is late. She had to rely on agency resources since there is no Kaytt. Gone are both a fantastic friendship and the resplendent representation that came with it. Until relatively recently, she never really needed it but she sure as shit needs it now. Kinsa sighs, pacing in what she fancies a smart outfit; tactful neutrals, nothing too fancy, a downplayed aesthetic for a cosmopolitan woman. There is a reason for this mania. The RSB ominously/officially summoned her and she thought it best not to go in alone, especially when there are pieces she cannot put together for them.
Or herself.
Counselor Kezlan Roan, a tall and snappily dressed Bothan-hybrid, finally appears through the doors of the obscenely lit RSB headquarters lobby. His polished hooves are pronounced and amplified through the space, drawing in the attention he seems to embrace. The it-boy of entertainment lawyers, or so they claimed when she asked about legal options. Best in the biz, etc., etc. Definitely someone she wants in her corner. Roan, on the other hand, glances her over and sighs. This one is high maintenance all the way but she is officially his client so he dives right in.
“Miss Cavanaugh. What is it then? Drunk and-or disorderly? Reckless endangerment? Groped by a high-ranking Republic official?”
“What? No. Well, yes, like once or whatever but that is not what this is about.”
“Color me vaguely intrigued and please continue.”
“Soooo, that is kinda the thing. I am not…really sure what they want. I mean, I have an idea of the subject. Janessa Kain, of course. My friend and well, former Republic liaison to the Corporate Sector. Former in general, actually. Okay, yeah, it is the same one who people are saying blew up the President and stuff but I swear I knew nothing about that!”
“Oh, this is going to be real fun.”
“Ugh,” she huffs, crossing her arms. “You sound like a public defender!”
“Hardly. The agency has me on retainer for a reason. Now: breathe, take it from the top, and we will sort this out.”
In a quiet corner, she frantically runs him through a, uh, strategically edited version of the past few months: murder, mayhem, and now an alleged terrorist bombing they somehow think Janessa clued her in on over their last round of drinks. There may have been an insinuation, one she provided to The Concealed because she thought she could stop it. Turns out she was likely a bit late and now it has all gone to bloody hell. She reaches for tears that are never too far away these days.
“What a bunch of assholes. Two of my friends just died and the RSB will not even let me grieve.”
“Right,” Roan says, running a finger through the stubbled cleft in his chin, “That is…a lot.”
“Obviously. I want them to leave me alone! Is that so much to ask?”
“No, but we need to get to the root of what they think you know. The quicker we can dispel any theories they have, the quicker we can get them off your back. You do not have to say anything you are not comfortable with so let me lead there if they start trying to paint you into one of their little corners. The RSB has a reputation for that. Anything else you want to tell me before we go in?”
Kinsa flicks away a tear and flips her hair, “Not really, no.”
“That does not sound entirely promising but let us see how it goes.”
They check in with reception and are escorted to a private room in which they wait for nearly half an hour. She surveys the surroundings and frowns.
“Who decorated this place? It’s so drab.”
“Style is not really a strong suit with the bureau. Neither is integrity these days if we are being candid.”
“Quite the quip, Counselor. You are not nearly as dour as I was expecting.”
“Call me Kez.”
Kinsa raises a shoulder and flashes a smile, feeling herself tilt toward flirty even though the thought of Selene’s body against her still races through her mind. Her friends are all super dead so why is she suddenly getting hot and bothered? The horror acts as some sort of morbid aphrodisiac which is not an unpleasant distraction. But the reality is; Janessa drugged her, presumably destroying evidence that the Empire is playing it fast and loose with the tenants of the truce, there are giant blank spots in her memory, Kaytt is gone, and now the President is dead with Janessa primed as the seemingly perfect perpetrator. A lot? This is more than a lot. This is literally insane.
The door hisses open and the pair of agents stroll in.
“Thank you for coming so promptly,” Ollo growls with a twinge of forced pleasantry.
Kinsa scoffs, “Well, we have been here for a while. Waiting. For you.”
“Our apologies,” Vrent interjects evenly, attempting to dispel the tension with a tight smile. “Something to drink?”
She knows better than that and keeps her hands to herself, “No, thank you.”
Roan throws her a look and she eases down into the chair through the sheer force of his gaze. He turns to the agents across from them.
“My client would appreciate some transparency around the nature of your inquiry.”
“Of course. Miss Cavanaugh, we spoke briefly the other day about the last time you saw Janessa Kain.”
“Yes, and I told you. Surely you confirmed this.”
Vrent’s expression tightens further, “We are not certain that was the whole story. The cams at Legis Lounge did confirm that interaction but you failed to mention you encountered one another after that. The evening of the Wenstyn party.”
Translation; the night before the bombing.
“Except we didn’t,” Kinsa counters quickly, trying to keep the edge out of her tone.
*
Janessa Kain wanders home after a long day to meet up with an anxious Kier at her flat. The boy has talents, that is for sure, but the role does not fit him. He is trying way too hard but she can appreciate the effort. In all the best ways. As she passes an ally, she hears a whisper. Faint but firm. A phrase that feels ancient yet familiar. She stiffens, slows her step, and veers sharply into the haze beyond. An obstructed figure moves beyond, lying in wait.
Kinsa emerges from between two tendrils of steam, an angelic outfit beneath an expressionless face.
*
Ollo and Vrent exchange worrisome glances then turn their attention back to her.
“Think carefully, miss Cavanaugh. Did you see Janessa Kain the night of the Wenstyn party?”
Roan leans forward, “Are you accusing my client of something?”
“It is simply a question we need to be answered.”
“She answered it. Unless you have something that would indicate otherwise, I suggest we move on.”
Ollo keys up the small holoprojector where a series of stills from the Wenstyn party float between them. Kinsa marvels at the perfection of her costume, noting how cute she looks.
“This is you on the night in question. Correct?”
“Yes.”
Another still of her on the streets of Ambaril alone.
“And this?”
“Yes.”
The last is of her entering the lobby of her building, a tipsy half-smile as she approaches the lift.
“This?”
“Still yes.”
“Do you notice the difference between the last two stills?” Vrent asks carefully, toggling between them.
Roan spots it immediately but Kinsa lags, confused by where they are going with this. The agents focus on her neckline which she thinks is kind of sketchy until she notices what is and is not in each shot. Still, she says nothing.
“Perhaps you can compare to this.”
Vrent brings up a still of Janessa Kain nearly half an hour later, elsewhere in the city, wearing what appears to be the same necklace. A necklace she is no longer wearing in the still from her lobby. The next still is of Janessa Kain the following morning beyond the security checkpoint in the official offices with Inganarre smiling as he greets their group. She is also wearing the necklace.
Her lips part as realization sets in but she keeps the gasp from escaping and looks to Roan for help.
As the hologram fades and the lights come back up, he takes a moment before he begins.
“Friends with complimentary stylistic choices is hardly noteworthy. We understand how that may appear but I would ask how you know it is, in fact, the same necklace and not one that looks similar?”
“More than similar. Identical.”
“Not something you can prove conclusively with security photage and you know that. Fashion is, after all, inspired by trends. Chunky necklaces are in right now. Even a casual glance at the adverts right outside this building will tell you that. For the sake of argument, and my personal curiosity, what is it you believe happened here?”
Ollo does not flinch, “Miss Cavanaugh left it somewhere the Ambassador could easily retrieve.”
Implying premeditation of some kind. Acting in concert together like a bunch of fashionable hooligans. Kinsa has a terrible, sinking feeling. The black spot in her memory that immediately followed the party widens to become an event horizon and significant liability. Oh, no. What did she do?
“We are not here to speculate, agent Ollo. What does this even have to do with Janessa Kain or the bombing?”
“We think the bomb may have been triggered.”
The accusation lands exactly as expected. Kinsa blinks rapidly but Roan is having none of it.
“Are you contending that my client gave her friend an accessory with a trigger in it that she then used to assassinate the President of the Republic?”
*
Kinsa’s fingers slide to the back of her necklace, undoing the clasp with one of her nails, “This will be perfect for your meeting.”
“You think?”
“Of course. Nothing like the right statement piece.”
*
“That is…a theory, yes.”
“For one,” Roan says pointedly, “Public speculation aside, I do not recall seeing any formal charges leveled at the late Ambassador Kain. And that really is all it is at this point – speculation. Second, you have not produced anything that would tie my client to a crime. There is no photage of the alleged exchange or evidence of alleged motive. You do not even know if there was a trigger. That bomb could have detonated any number of ways. What we have here is circumstantial at best and unfounded conspiracy at worst. You are trying to find someone to punish for these heinous crimes, we understand that, but you cannot further victimize my client to satisfy your lack of progress in this case.”
Vrent objects, “No one is trying to victimize any-”
He rises quickly and Kinsa, taking this cue, does the same.
“But that is exactly what this line of questioning is doing. You have nothing to charge or hold my client with and I will not allow you to further subject her to undue scrutiny. I say undue because, as your own office has suggested, this has alleged ties to the Jedi which make my client a long way off the mark.”
“Quit grandstanding, counselor. This is not a courtroom. May I remind you that Janessa Kain was influenced by a Force user and made to murder a colleague of ours?”
“She was also acquitted of those charges, if I may remind you.”
“Who is to say both Kain and Cavanaugh are not under the same dark influence?”
Ollo’s tone sends a chill up Roan’s spine, “That feels like a reach, even for the RSB.”
“Does it? I do not think so.”
“I do. Produce something you can hold my client with or we walk.”
Vrent has a feeling as well and wants to pursue the person dressed as a devil at the party but knows the lawyer will rip that to shreds. It could be nothing, sure, but Vrent considers the profile of someone like Kinsa Cavanaugh. Beautiful and famous with access to a vast network of powerful people. Would it make sense to use someone with that level of fame as a mechanism through which to trade information or supplies? They have seen trafficking of all kinds in their line of work. This would be an interesting twist. One no one would expect. The pretty often get a pass but Counselor Roan is right. It does sound like a conspiracy. It is also just crazy enough to be true. Nothing about this adds up and if Kain was under the influence of a force user all this time it is not a stretch to posit others in strategically placed roles may be as well. Playing the long game. As far as plans go, it is better than most they have busted.
Ollo goes a different route.
“There is another way to dispel any concerns. Simply show us the necklace.”
“Hmm?”
“The necklace. If you produce it then we will not pursue this further. We must rule it out, given the severity of the situation. We are certain Counsel can see reason in that.”
Roan leans close to her, “If you want them off your back, I suggest you do it.”
“Of course,” Kinsa says with a pinched grin. “I can bring it by in the next few days.”
“We would feel more comfortable resolving this matter now.”
Roan nods, “We would be amenable to that, right miss Cavanaugh? Best to clear this right up.”
“Absolutely.”
She does not have it, of course, and this would all come crashing down within the hour. Her fabulous little life wrecked because she thought she could do something for the greater good. Kaytt was absolutely right but there was no way she was going to leave her here alone. A fatal mistake for both of them, it seems. The girls. Circe, Kaytt, Janessa. Gone, gone, gone. Kinsa is now the one in this alone so she has to pull it together and think. The smile stays on as she gathers her things and follows Roan through the door. The ride back to her residence tower is frustratingly short. Her resolve holds even though she is not sure what fib she would conjure up when she could inevitably not produce the item.
The doordroid calls after her as they pass and informs them that her sister just arrived.
Wonderful, now there is an even larger audience to witness her downfall.
Outside the flat, Quinn dramatically whirls around and clicks off her commlink, “Holy shit, Kinsa, where have you been? You have not responded to any of my messages.”
“Kinda busy, Quinn. Can this wait?”
The agents come to a stop beside Kinsa and Counselor Roan when a hush falls over the group. It is one thing to see her image in an ad or on the Holo but Quinn Cavanaugh is something to behold in reality. Almost too perfect to be real which is not the worst problem someone in her industry could have. A beauty that is as disarming as it is unsettling. Quinn’s head tilts ever-so-slightly to the left as she twirls a long strand of frosted, silvery hair around her pinky finger.
“What?"
Unsurprisingly, her outfit is also stunning as if she walked straight from runway to doorstep; pointed heels, white pantsuit with severe shoulder accents, and deep-V above which rests her sister's saving grace.
“My necklace.”
Quinn touches it absently, “Oh, this? You let me borrow it for the launch party, duh. It was a whole thing but now we have drinks with some very cool people that kept asking for you. Producers, maybe? Who can ever tell these days anyway? What you are wearing is fine, I guess, but maybe throw on a colorful accent piece just for, you know, fun or something. Nothing too serious.”
“Wait,” she says, finally noticing everyone else. “Who are they?”
The agents look deflated, caught between frustration and relief. Vrent still believes her theory has merit but they would not be able to prove it here. If Cavanaugh is not Kain’s accomplice or the link to a larger network they would need to pivot back to the original trail; following the credits. Anasaii Antiquities is likely just the beginning but first, they need to excuse themselves from this mild embarrassment. Ollo attempts a grumbled apology with Vrent nodding politely.
“We were just leaving.”
As the agents depart, Kezlan Roan lingers for a moment. He has watched this scene play out before. Tropes, like stereotypes, exist for a reason. It would be too ironic if the RSB were on to something yet Kinsa is looking a little too relieved.
“Thanks, Kez.”
“My pleasure,” he says, bidding them goodnight although his curiosity and suspicion have been aroused. “Miss Cavanaugh. Miss Cavanaugh.”
Quinn is confused, “Uh, what was that all about?”
“Long story,” she says and follows her inside.
*
“What kind of statement?” Janessa asks flatly, pulling her dark hair aside as Kinsa fastens it at the top of her spine.
They face each other without the warmth of recognition. They may as well be strangers. Blank stares while speaking in even tones barely above a whisper. Kinsa brushes a finger along Janessa’s cheek, leaning close.
“That the third act has officially begun.”
-TBC
