Star Wars Noir Episode I (22/02/12)

[Jidai Geki]

The title of this possible one-shot pretty much says it all: this is a noir-themed take on Star Wars. I've been planning this for a while, but it's hard to take some of the themes encountered in Star Wars and put them in a cynical, hardboiled setting. Anyways, check it out and let me know what you think.

 

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Naboo. Some call it the Garden City, all rolling parks and clear rivers and glossy buildings, but it's a smokescreen: perfume on a corpse, make-up on a cancer patient, the smile of a sociopath. Among its pretty estates and pristine buildings, all curves and old-world gravitas, the same spice dealers push glitterstim and death sticks. Twi'lek girls still get smacked around by their Twi'lek pimps, not sparing a second thought to whoring out their own women for a quick cred. Kids get bought up like subprime real estate and get put to work in factories or worse, turned out. The rich and famous live it up, sipping Tatooine sunburns and eating prime nerf medallions off imported Mustafarian obsidian, while two blocks away some poor working stiff hacks her lungs into the 'fresher after an eighteen-hour shift.

 

None of this matters a bent decicred to me; me, I just got a job to do. I go where the Agency tells me to go, and I pick up a check at the end of it, no matter how much I gotta turn a blind eye to. I tell myself I can't fix the world; I tell myself you gotta pick your battles, and when you can't pick 'em: well, hell, make sure you get paid for 'em at least. All of this psychic snake-oil I pour on my guilty consicence makes me feel a little better.

 

For the rest, there's creds.

 

"How we playing this one, chief?" says the kid, all earnest blue eyes and badly hidden enthusiasm. I glance at him.

 

The kid's been with me around a year now, learning the ropes from a grizzled, burned out old mook like me best as I can teach 'em. He's still got a bad habit of trying to play it hard, sticking out his chin like a baby Gundark playing at being daddy. Obie- that's him name, and one of the stupidest I ever heard- wants it all now: the cynicism, the world-weariness, the don't-give-a-damn attitude. I keep tellin' him it's time to quit once you see things that way; he always asks me why I haven't quit, then.

 

I still don't have an answer for him.

 

"We talk to the Unionists," I say, feeling for the gun stashed under my coat. "Make 'em see things our way."

 

"Never thought we'd be strike-breakin'," says the kid, copying me and checking his own gun with what he thinks is devil-may-care cool. It ain't. "Ain't we s'posed to be the good guys, Kyoo-Gee?"

 

"Ain't no such creature, kid," I say. "'Sides, I'm not sure strike-breakin' makes us the bad guys."

 

We hit the city limits; I drive a couple blocks 'til I see a payphone, pull over.

 

"Stay here," I say, getting out and giving the street a quick one-two. It's quiet; neon streetlights cast islands of white in the black of the early morning. Nobody's around, which is how I mostly like things. I cross over to the payphone, drop a cred, dial the number the Wise Men gave me.

 

A click. "Yeah."

 

"I got a meeting with Gunray. Need to set up a time."

 

"You got a name, friend?"

 

I pause for effect. "I'm with the JayDee."

 

It's time for the mook on the other end of the line to pause. "You guys don't operate in this town," he says, keeping the nervousness from his voice enough to fool most. It doesn't fool a JD.

 

"We operate wherever we're sent, pal. You know that."

 

"Uh... I'm gonna hafta check with Mister Gunray. Call back in the morning."

 

It's difficult to pick up on tells over the phone. It's even more difficult to mind-trick, but it ain't impossible.

 

"You should probably check with him now," I reply, every tone weighted in such a way that the guy gets the impression that saying 'no' to me is the worst possible thing he could do.

 

He pauses again. I can feel him wavering on the other end of the line, without him saying a word. He's heard about us, heard what we can make a man do. And that's without a gun.

 

"Yeah... ok. Yeah, I'll check with him now." A clunk as he puts the receiver down and walks off.

 

A couple of minutes passes.

 

"Mister Gunray can see you right now," says the guy, coming back on the line. "You know where we are?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"And your name?" he asks again, more hopeful than anything.

 

"You got who I'm with?"

 

"Ye- yeah."

 

"That's all you need," I say, and hang up.

Edited February 22, 2012 by Guest

[NavyGal]

Oh I really like how you've started this. I do sense the cynicism in there as well.

[Amidala Skywalker]

This is great, Geki! I really loved the feel and the tone. I'd love to see you continue this, especially because it doesn't seem complete. I want to know what happens in the meeting, what their mission is, and who this man is. I'm very intruiged! Great stuff.

[Jidai Geki]

Glad you like it, guys. I'm gonna keep going with this, see how it turns out. I'm kinda intrigued to see what I can do with some of the other characters, and taking the Jedi and putting them in this setting has been something of a challenge: the oriental-influenced mysticism surrounding the Jedi doesn't fit so well in this setting. Anyways...

 

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I almost feel the cop before I hear the clunk of his door opening. I turn slowly and look at him questioningly, putting my hands in my pockets.

 

“Evening, officer.”

 

“Evening. You got some ID there, fella?”

 

“Is there a problem?”

 

“The only problem I got is some punk back-talking me when I ask him to do what I tell him,” replies the cop, resting his knuckles on his ample waist. Behind him, his partner gets out of the car slowly, making a show of slotting his nightstick onto his belt.

 

“Just making a phone call, officer,” I say quietly, reaching inside my pocket. He spooks, hand racing for his gun.

 

“Keep your damn hands where I can see ‘em,” he snarls, popping the strap on his holster.

 

“Easy, friend,” I say, freezing. “ID, remember?”

 

“Oh. Right,” he says, mollified a little. “Let’s be seeing it, then.” His hand stays on the butt of his gun; he’s not so mollified that he hasn’t completely given up on the idea of introducing a little lead into my diet.

 

I hand him my PI licence, stumbling as I do over a carelessly laid flagstone and bumping into him. The cop pushes me back, a pugnacious look on his face as I apologise, and he scowls at me.

 

A stony-faced mugshot of me deadpans in miniature next to the credentials: “QG Jinn, licensed private investigator.” Below that: “Janos Dynz-Tonn Detective Agency”.

 

“You’re a, whatyecallit, Dynz-tonn boy,” he observes, with all the mental acuity of a man wondering whether his fourth donut of the night should be jelly or chocolate. “One of them Jay-Dee fellas.”

 

“That’s me,” I say quietly, moving to take the ID back. He pulls it out of my reach like a schoolyard bully teasing a chess-club kid.

 

“You, uh, gonna show us a magic trick, then?” he leers, glancing at his partner with a grin.

 

“Sikes, maybe we should just let this geek go-“

 

“Ah come on,” he says, his smile getting wider. “Mister Jay-Dee can show us a trick here ‘fore he goes. Ain’t that right, Mister Jay-Dee?”

 

“Officer,” I say quietly, avoiding eye contact, “I just wanna get my ID and be on my way-“

 

“Just one,” he says, the bully’s grin still plastered on his thick-lipped, oh-so sluggable pudgy face. “You guys can, uh, read minds and shit, I heard. Make a guy do exactly what you tell him to, even if he don’t wanna.”

 

“Alright,” I sigh, looking him over. In ten seconds, I got everything I need to make this fat piece of shit take a long ride and forget he ever saw me.

 

“You’re married, but that doesn’t stop you from stopping off and screwing your hooker girlfriend while you’re supposed to be working. You’re also not averse to a slug of the hard stuff on the job every now and then.”

 

“What are you-“ he stammers, but I cut him off like a bottle-a-night barfly.

 

“You take bribes, but the chief doesn’t know about it. You lie to your partner there,” I say, nodding towards the other man, “about how much you take so you can give him a smaller cut.”

 

He scowls now, visibly pissed off at what, if he’s real slow in the head, might seem like magic to him.

 

“You keep your damn mouth shut, you little punk-“

 

“No,” I say quietly. “I don’t know about making you do something you don’t wanna do, Sergeant, but here’s something you do wanna do:” I lean in, and he flinches slightly. “You wanna give me that ID back, and then you wanna haul your fat ass into that car. Then you wanna drive as fast as you can, and hope I don’t call Captain Antilles and have a chat with him about some of his beat cops and their less than savory extra-curricular activities.” He pales even more at the mention of his captain’s name; I can see the cogs turning as he tries to figure out how I know all this. “We clear, Sergeant?”

 

He looks at me for a long moment, pudgy mouth the shape of a donut-O as he tries to think of something to say. In the end, he fails, and hands the ID back limply.

 

“Just, uh-“

 

“Just go about my business,” I suggest, patting him on the shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah, just go about your business, mis- sir. Have a good evening, now.”

 

He flips me my ID back and almost falls over himself getting back in the car, tipping his hat at me the whole time. His partner looks at me briefly- he already bought into the JD myths way before his partner decided to tangle with one- and it almost looks as if there’s a hint of admiration on his face. If only he knew.

 

The cruiser screeches away, leaving black streaks of rubber on the asphalt as it peels off, and I hear the fat cop’s partner start in on him about holding out before the car’s out of earshot. I smile ruefully, watch until they’re just taillights in the distance, and walk back to the car.

 

“Ok,” says the kid, raising his hand and beginning to tick things off his inner checklist. “The lipstick on his ear told you he was screwing around, the fact that she was willing to nibble his lobe like that told you it was more personal than a one-off cred-job, so a girlfriend. And only a hooker would wear that shade of pink. Booze on the breath, I’m guessing, gave away the on-the-job nipping. A quick check on the ‘net told you the names of all the law enforcement movers and shakers before we got here, so you knew the name of this district’s captain before you even saw these cops.”

I nod.

 

“I gotta be honest though, Kyoo-Gee: what I can’t figure out is how you knew he was keeping his chief in the dark or that he was ripping his partner off.”

 

I hold up the copper’s wallet, and the kid’s eyes light up.

 

“He’s got more in here than a beat cop makes in a month. Just looking at the guy told me he’s the kind of greedy schmuck would sooner risk taking a fall than cutting in his boss or giving his partner a fair shake. Had to give his partner something, though; no way the other guy couldn’t have known about his skimming.”

 

“So,” says the kid, puzzling it over, “you just guessed.”

 

“When you put it like that, kid,” I say, letting a faint smile creep over my face, “it kinda takes the magic out of it.”

 

“Ain’t nothing takes the magic outta the world faster than learnin’ to be a JayDee,” observed the kid drily.

 

“The price we pay for what we do,” I reply, putting the car in gear. “Let’s go see a guy about a strike.”

Edited February 22, 2012 by Guest

[Amidala Skywalker]

Another great installment! I'm glad you decided to continue with this for a while. It has so much potential. I loved the interaction between Kyoo-Gee and the cop. I could totally picture the cop in my mind, the sterotypical fat pushy cop that comes into these kinds of stories.

 

Very nice little side interation, and I loved the convo at the end where Obie demystified what Kyoo-Gee had done.

 

Excellent stuff and I'm looking forward to more!

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

This is golden, Geki. You had me at ”œNaboo.”

[Bad karma]

*peeks into fanfic when no one is looking*

 

*Thumbs up!* Keep writing this!

[DarthBrendo]

THat was very good Lee. I really lov the way you 'show' us a Jedi "mind trick" but then have the kid break it down as simple detective deductions. Really enjoying this.

 

Don't forget your other fic though

[Jidai Geki]

As if I would, Brendan. Here's another shot of this, though, I'm in the initial writing spree stages with this one...

 

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The Trade Union- every industrialist, magnate and rugged individualist's worst nightmare at the minute, and the boogeyman on the lips and hearts of every g-man in a hundred city-states.

 

The guy calling the shots in the Naboo strikes is one Nute Gunray, originally of Neimoidia. The fact that he's Nemoidian is enough to set conservative alarm bells ringing right away, with his slick etiquette and too-small Oriental eyes, and this is compounded by him heading up the largest union on the planet- millions of pissed-off blue-collars all uniting under one banner, threatening to bring every factory in places like Naboo to a grinding halt until their petty demands are met- y'know, meaningless crap like better working conditions, a minimum wage, guaranteed holidays. Annoying at best, and millions of creds in lost profits for the city's best and brightest.

 

The Union has Naboo right where it wants it at the moment- sixty-five percent of the city's blue-collar workers are card-carrying members, and two days ago at nine a.m. they all put down their tools, walked out of their factories, and pitched tents outside. It's the Red Scare the higher-uppers have been fearing for years, and it's right in our backyard.

 

The Republic panicked, but showed admirable restraint in not just sending in the grunts- instead, they tried a little diplomacy and went to their go-to problem-solvers, the Dynz-Tonn Agency. The guys I work for.

 

The Wise Men put their heads together, decided that less was more, and sent me and the kid in to ”˜negotiate'. For the JD's, ”˜negotiate' is a word loaded with about a thousand meanings covering every possible eventuality. In this instance, the Wise Men have pretty much left it up to me, but the implied order was clear enough: ”˜talk to the guy. If you don't like what you hear, crack heads. But give the talking thing a try first.'

 

The kid don't like the thought of breaking up a strike for guys who just want to get paid a fair wage for spending most of their lives in dirty, dangerous factories so the boss can buy his third home on the Alderaanian Peninsula. Can't say I'm crazy about it myself, but hey. Striking puts a kink in everyone's summer plans, and more often than not just ends up with corporate goons cracking skulls and puttin' some poor guys on the front of Galaxy News for ”˜resisting'. Either that, or the scabs get it instead. Lose-lose.

 

”˜Cept for the guys can afford to holiday on the aforementioned Peninsula, but they always win. Way of the world.

 

Gunray sets up the meeting at the Union's Naboo offices, a refurbished factory used for greasing the axles of the Worker's Revolution now. It's a big, spooky old place: redbrick and half-intact windows gaping like some poor palooka's open mouth in the twelfth. Guards man the security booths at the only aperture in the chain-link fence, all lukewarm stimcafs and drooping eyes. They perk up when they hear my wheels pulling up.

 

”œI'm here to see Gunray,”

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

tl;dr

[Jidai Geki]

Arse-bandit.

[Amidala Skywalker]

BTW....an update would be nice!

[Jidai Geki]

You guys critique, I update! I'm not counting "tl;dr" as an update.

[DarthBrendo]

Really enjoying your take on TPM. A blue collar perspective. Feels nie and gritty and real.

[Tiana Calthye]

Man, what a story... what an example of noir. You've taken the Star Wars universe and twisted it into the dark and gritty always raining feel of the best of the comics, the best of the books, the best of the movies.

 

Your intro is picture perfect and it only gets better from there. The narrating character absolutely oozes character and this is a story that really was tragically abandoned. Star Wars Sin City: characters that are made out of grizzly pasts, and a side of Naboo we'll never see in the movies.

 

I can hear the rain.

 

You have an excellent balance between dialogue and descriptions; descriptions picked out perfectly.

 

The title is misleading. I expected some slapstick parody. Instead I got a Star Wars I could've never imagined.

 

Every chapter begins in a way that strikes it home.

 

The Trade Union- every industrialist, magnate and rugged individualist’s worst nightmare at the minute, and the boogeyman on the lips and hearts of every g-man in a hundred city-states.

 

This is the Prequel Trilogy that WE ALL WANTED but didn't get.

[Jidai Geki]

I've got no intention of abandoning this, actually. It's one of the most fun things to write I've ever done, but I promised myself I'd get the other thing done before I cracked on with anything else. This is ridiculously easy to write without running into any stumbling blocks, though, so I might crank out the next part soon. Half the fun is in figuring ways to subvert the SW universe and make it more noirish.

[Chosen One Ephant Mon]

I was going to read just the first part and comment but I kept wanting to read more so I just went through the whole thing. This is great stuff, Geki. You're fully in command of the tone and have the noir feel down pat, from the narrator's cynical voice to the present tense narration to the noirish descriptions and metaphors.

 

After beginning the story, the most enjoyable part came from seeing you work the Star Wars element; that is, discovering how much you would preserve and how you would rework the common tropes to fit this type of world. Turning the Jedi mind trick into a detective's sharp eye was brilliant, and I loved your take on the "droids."

 

I'm glad you plan on getting back to this, whenever you have the chance. I look forward to reading more.

[jedi_master_gimpy]

Wow... I checked this out for the FFA Awards, and am seriously impressed, Jidai! You have captured that genre perfectly - and cleverly, with how you have carefully tailored Star Wars to fit into your own story. I will definitely be sticking around to see the updates way past when the Awards come and go.

[NavyGal]

Ok, so I've been slack. I don't know how I missed the last update but I really enjoy this take on TPM. Entertaining I love how you the worlds as city states.

[Obi-quiet]

Normally not the biggest fan of mixing styles, but you've done this so well that I can't say I'm not horribly impressed, if a little disturbed. No wonder Ben loves it so much.

 

You know I luv ya, right Ben? ^^;

 

Seriously though, I'm actually wondering how you're doing to convert the rest of the movie.

 

Poor Obie. ^^; I thought he had it bad in the original...it's going to really take him out in this one.

[Jidai Geki]

We’re shown into a swanky conference room, an airy get-up dominated by a long shiny hunk of oak flanked by leather chairs. The guy who showed us in nods at the chairs, a smile never threatening to crack his cheery exterior.

 

“Sit. Mister Gunray will get here when he gets here.”

 

“Yeah, thanks. Can I get a-“ I’m talking to thin air; guy turns around and walks out without so much as a ‘see ya’- “drink?” I sigh. “Never mind.”

 

“Friendly bunch, aren’t they?” observes the kid, slouching into one of the chairs and taking his hat off. “What now?”

 

“I guess we wait. See what this schmoe’s gotta say for himself.”

 

“I ain’t so sure he’s got anything to say, Chief.”

 

“Think you might be right on that one,” I say, taking my own hat off and laying it on the table. “You know the Wise Men, though. Gotta wait for him to make his play.”

 

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“Can I get you boys anything?” lilts the broad, a plastic-pretty automaton with a smile as brilliant as her eyes are dead, and a paisley dress that makes her look like she just walked outta some wholesome all-Corellian cereal commercial. “Drinks? Something to eat?”

 

“Whyren’s. On the rocks,” I say.

 

The smile shifts up a gear. She smiled any harder, the top of her head might have toppled off.

 

“Of course! Please wait one moment, Mister JayDee.”

 

“Don’t recall tellin’ you I was a JayDee, sweetheart,” I say, my face hardening.

 

“Oh!” her smile faltered. “You all dress the same, you know how it is.” She gives a coquettish giggle, trying to offset my sudden shift in mood with some good ol’-fashioned feminine wiles. It doesn’t take.

 

“Not sure I do, sugar. That drink’d be swell round about now.”

 

“Of course.” She totters out on four-inch heels, a broken ankle threatening every step of the way.

 

“They know we’re JayDee,” points out the kid.

 

“Yeah. I called them and told them, remember? It’ll make this easier if they know who they’re dealin’ with.”

 

“Will it? I got a bad feeling about this…”

 

“These guys are morons. Don’t sweat it.”

 

As if to contradict me, the door cracks open a tad and two round, greenish globes hit the floor with a hollow tinkle.

 

The kid’s moving a split-second after me- he’s getting fast- and we throw the table over towards the grenades the droid geeks just threw in.

 

The explosion rocks the air and slams into my ears like a freight train.

 

Everything goes dim and far away for a second, a tinny ringing singing in my ears, and I hear the door go again.

 

The droid clean-up crew is expecting us to be on the ground, dead or dying. They ain’t expecting two pissed-off JD waiting for them, irons in hand and spitting lead at them.

 

They go down easy and fast, all dead or as good as after head and chest shots. The JD don’t screw around when it comes to training their guys up.

 

“Looks like the negotiations are over, Kyoo-Gee,” says the kid breathless, thumbing fresh rounds into his iron.

 

“You kiddin’ me? They just opened,” I reply, reloading my own. “Let’s go see our pal Gunray.”

[Amidala Skywalker]

Glad to see this updated after...what, a year and a half? This story was always really well done. Keep up the good work!

[DarthBrendo]

I was pleasantly surprised to see another update for this after all this time.

 

I really enjoyed this though. It's in character, and I can hear the "gumshoe" voice in my head as I read it.

[Travis]

Yea, you need to keep this goin'. This is great stuff, and something I have never seen done before. I can't imagine that it is easy to write, but it is pretty good. Though Brendo is getting the "gumshoe" feel to it, I am getting the Sin City feel when I read it.

[jedi_master_gimpy]

Wow! I'm so glad that you came back to this, Geki! I can't even there was a year and a half break, you slid smoothly back into the story and style. I especially like the adaptation of the negotiation line. Looking forward to seeing you continue this!