Objections

[Jiro Lawson]

The warehouse used to house hovercars. Hovercars, hoverbikes...it still bore the oil stains, and burn marks where the owners would take them apart and sell parts.

A chop shop, it had once held more than a hundred hovervehicles, all as hot as firecrackers, waiting for the thugs, the mafia members, anyone and everyone who wanted an illegally pumped vehicle knew where to come. It had been shut down years before. Now, it only held the faint sound of the wind blowing outside, and the distant memory of the scent of oil.

But now, the smell of blood masked all that.

The floor was covered in it, the walls spattered with the thick, quick-drying lifeforce. The body: a man, in his early thirties, dressed in a suit, his face no longer recognizable. His head has collapsed. The weapon: a metal pipe, probably pulled off one of the old air ducts that ran through the building and dripping water when it rained. The murderer: No one is to be seen. There is only one possible explaination.

There is a young man still breathing not far from the body. He is covered in blood.

_____________

Jiro Lawson laid in the floor of his new apartment. It had that new apartment smell to it. The smell of being too clean, not being lived in. He was staring up at the ceiling, surrounded by his boxes of things, one blanket thrown over his legs where his brother had tossed it just before he had kissed Jiro and left.

He was alone now, in his own apartment, with all his things. But he was still alone.

Jiro was used to having someone to come home to. For a long time, it had been Orange. And then, it was Ren. And now? It was quiet emptiness. Jiro had always been a person who needed someone he loved near. But ever since he and Ren had broken up--again--Jiro had shut off that need. He wanted to live on his own again, get used to doing things for himself.

Be normal.

The dysfunction in his life had finally overcome him when he had looked around him at the space port, and had been surrounded by family and friends, their respective ex's and on's, some fighting amongst themselves, some with partner's even Jiro hadn't seen coming--Orange and Conner most notably. Jiro was ill to death of the craziness the Lawson's endured. Bounties, drugs, marriages, crazy brothers, bounty hunting sisters, lesbians, long lost mothers, shoot outs, anger issues...

Sitting up, Jiro stared around at all his crap. He grinned. He couldn't wait to get up and get it all unpacked. He actually had a normal job, a normal house, and soon--he hoped--he would have some normal friends.

If Buddha permitted, he was about to start a normal life.

[Bello Vercelli]

The dream was nice, something foreign, unmarked shores that had yet to be touched by the like of alien or man, just him. The salt could be felt collecting on the small hairs on his arms, the window blowing his thick brown hair, the ocean as blue as his electric eyes. It was a wonderful feeling to know that you were alone, in an oasis where it was as pure as heaven itself, but, even in his subconscious, he knew that all good things must come to an end. Slowly, he realized that the destinct smell of sea and fish and sand were nothing but sweat, iron, oils that were unknown to him. That wind, it was coming from somewhere just not the beach.

His head banged lively within his cranium and in the back of his eyes and he immediately realized that this position he was sitting, or laying, in wasn't very healthy for the neck. He groaned, groggy, tired, unaware of what was going on. He slit his eyes, the burning inside causing them to water when the dim light of a street lamp shined a spotlight onto him through an old broken window.

What in the hell? He frowned, moving slightly only to feel a few objects behind him move. He slid onto the cold concrete ground and he groaned. Where was he at? What happened? Bello Vercelli had had crazier nights than this, at least he thought he had, but given his sudden disposition he figured tonight must have topped it all for he couldn't remember a damned thing. But as his eyes moved around the darkened room he began to realize that perhaps he was glad he didn't.

Perplexed he sat up slowly, putting a hand on his temple, that headache killing him the more he moved. He hissed and then looked at his hand, it felt sticky, wet, covered in something unidentifiable. He looked at it but could't tell what it was, the spotlight from outside no longer being seen, his hand looking like a darkened shadow. Bello sat up a little more and looked at his hand, the light bringing to object to a highly disturbing sight.

"What the?" He frowned, all grogginess leaving him. He looked at his clothes, checking for a wound, but nothing, however he was curious to wonder if he wasn't hurting anywhere aside from his head, why was there blood all over him? Literally, all over. He stood up quickly as if he could jump away from what stained his hands and his clothes. He closed his eyes tightly trying to allow his eyes to stop being blurred, but the moment they came into focus, so much more did as well.

"Oh my...oh my god!" He yelled, loudly, echoing. He looked around, putting both hands on his head, pulling his hair in opposite directions. He was in a warehouse of some sort, he was bloodied to no end, and the body nearby was also unidentifiable. What in the hell had happened?

Bello ran over to the body, slowly coughing at the stench of death, blood, sweat, and anything else that might have touched this man. Or woman, or whatever it was. He had to look away as he dropped to his knee's wnating to feel for a pulse. He sighed out, tears stinging his eyes as confusion swept over him as he tried to stop the heaves that were coming. Bello put his hand on the neck and felt around for a pulse but felt nothing except cold blood.

Bello scooted around on his knees, trying to figure out where he was a little bit more, looking for a sign of life, but he realized it was only him, the dead man, and all this blood. He let out a cry, tears streaming down his face. This had been the first time he had ever seen a dead body, let alone been covered in the blood of the victim. Not knowing what to do, he stood, slowly staggering as he saw a door nearby. He slowly began to jog, sometimes almost stopping as to not fall over. Luckily the place had a few crates that he could prop himself up on if he felt he ws going to fall.

The moment the cool night air hit his face, he looked around panicked, nobody was around. After a moment he recognized he wasn't too far from his home. He didn't know what was going on, but he felt that he just needed to get away from there as soon as possible, even more so in bloodied clothes. He quickly staggered, hearing the heavy door slam behind him as he began to jog towards his house. To his safety. To the place where he knew he wouldn't ever have to relive this horror again.

Bello counted the steps, it ended up being over three thousand to his home. He had ran as best he could, not stopping for a breath, nothing. He just ran and ran as if he were being chased by what he had left behind. No, what someone else had left behind. He was paranoid by the time he had made it into the building of the apartments. He had zipped up his black hoodie, which hid his white decorative shirt that was stained with something less than a fashion statement. Blood wasn't really in this season!

He opted to take the stairs, knowing nobody would ever see him there. He jogged up eight flights, ran down his hall, literally flew into the door face first. He sighed out in pain from everything, his head especially, and unlocked the door, almost falling in. He slammed the door, the lights were off, she was in bed. Good, he thought. Cira would never need to know about this. Whatever this happened to be.

Bello sniffed the tears away and walked quickly down the hall to the bathroom, falling in and slamming the door shut. Without even stripping down he got into the shower and turned on the water, scrubbing himself furiously. What the hell had happened?

[Jiro Lawson]

Jiro hadn't been up that early in years. Seven thirty was not his ideal time. However, he had to be at work at eight thirty, and an hour was enough time for him to be ready.

As he finished dressing and drank his tea, he flipped on the screen in his livingroom to the news. Boxes were still sitting around, he had been there an entire weekend already and he still hadn't gotten it all unpacked. He leaned against his bedroom door and peered at the screen. The sound was all the way down, but it was a news story about some sort of murder.

Furrowing his brow, Jiro raised the remote, and turned the sound up until the voice of the reporter could be heard throughout his apartment. He walked a little closer to see better.

"Authorities have not identified the body, but they know that he victim was killed last evening, sometime between seven o'clock and nine o'clock. The victim is male, and was deprived of his identification, including the identification chip usually found in the shoulder blade; it had been removed by the killer. More on this crime as it comes to us. In other news..."

Jiro's brow was furrowed still as he saw that the warehouse where they found the body was not far from his apartment building. Well, that sucked.

Turning the sound back down, he put down his tea and flopped onto the couch to put his shoes on. Murders on Coruscant was like fleas on an outside dog. You couldn't have one without the other. In his lifetime, Jiro had heard about hundreds of them. It didn't phase people anymore, as it had once upon a time. Now, people saw it, said, "Aw, too bad", and continued on with thier lives.

Jiro sighed out, grabbing his bag and the papers he had been sent, and flipped off the TV. Locking the door behind him when he left, he boarded a hovertaxi, heading for his job--working for a lwyer at a local law firm, one Hiroshi Yamamoto. Jiro hadn't yet met him, but the woman he had talked to knew him and told him he would certainly like the man.

It wasn't long before Jiro had forgotten about the murder in the warehouse.

[Bello Vercelli]

He startled awake, he felt sick, internally, physically, mentally, emotionally, any kind of sickness a human could sustain. Bello frowned, his head wasn't hurting as bad, it had only been a few hours since he came home and passed out yet again. This time his dream hadn't been so pleasant as the one he had previously.

He lifted his weak left hand on the back of the couch, needing some sort of leverage to pull himself up from laying on the cushions. He groaned as he felt parts on his body ache, places he didn't know existed were hurting him.

"Wild night?" The voice startled him almost to the point of where he was about to jump off the couch and bolt. He suddenly realized the voice and he quickly looked to his right to see sitting in an overstuffed chair leaning on her elbows and smoking a cigarette his other half. He didn't know what to say, but he figured she'd find out within seconds.

[Cira Vercelli]

He didn't say anything and that ticked her off even more than she already had been. Sleep deprived from all that racket he had made earlier that morning when he came staggering in like a drunken fool. But all hell broke loose when she went to take a shower only to find bloody clothes sopping wet and sitting on the floor. But to make matters worse, to freak out thinking her brother had been severely injured, to find him laying stark naked on the couch, soaked to the bone, as well as the object he lay on, it mad her absolutely infuriated.

She stared at him, her eyes locking with his own, never moving, never flinching, never blinking. This was a showdown and she was making sure he understood the severity of his actions, whatever they might be considering she wasn't sure what to make of the bloody mess in the bathroom. Hell, she didn't even make that kind of mess when it was that time.

"It better have beem." She said raising her dark eyebrows, drawing in a long breath of cigarette smoke before blowing it out quickly. "Mind telling me what in the hell is going on? Why are you naked on my couch, sopping wet? No, no, forget that! Wht are your clothes sopping wet with blood? In my bathroom floor?" He didn't say anything and she knew that he was guilty as sin, but guilty of what she couldn't say.

"Your tongue better be cut out, Bello, I don't appreciate your silence." She sighed out and stood up. Whatever he got himself into, she didn't want to be a part of it.

[Jiro Lawson]

Jiro yawned so wide as he got off the hovertaxi, he thought his face would fall off. His cup of highly caffienated tea was warm in his hands as he hoisted his satchel up on his shoulder and peered up at the huge law firm building. His nose wrinkled distastefully.

Jiro had not worked in a long time. Not because he didn't want to, but after years of pickpocketing, stripping, prostitution, he had had plenty of money stored up and hadn't yet run out. But after his brother had married, and his other brother had finally settled and attached himself to someone, Jiro was the only brother still floating in the ether.

Sure he had had Ren for awhile, and Ren had a steady job, a steady life. But being part of that life had been all too familiar to the life they had shared years ago. And Jiro didn't want to relive that misery.

So here he was, walking into the law firm building, looking down at the sheet of paper that told him who to meet and where to meet them. Hiroshi Yamamoto was all he knew about the guy. Hadn't seen a picture, hadn't talked to him on the com, nothing. He had done all his business with the man's secretary, a kind woman who had told Jiro that he would definately like Hiroshi and that they would all get along fine.

Jiro was what could be considered a secretary. But a little closer than that. He would go around with Hiroshi, do whatever the man needed him to do. File, take notes, do follow up questions, make phone calls. Jiro was looking forward to it. Even though he was somewhat of a free spirit and didn't like to sit still, he thought he would like this, something different for a change.

He was sure though that this whole getting up early thing would never be enjoyable.

Jiro showed his identification at the counter in the front lobby and the man there directed him to the second lift in the row of about ten across the back wall. Jiro didn't know what difference that made, but boarded anyway, along with other businessmen and women. They were all dressed very professionally, most in black suits. Jiro was also dressed nice; a white dress shirt, grey dress pants and shoes, and a grey tie. He didn't have a blazer because he didn't like them, and hopefully it wouldn't be against dresscode.

Securing his satchel across his chest, he got off on level thirty-two, glancing up and down the rows of offices. They resembled cubicles, but bigger. The older, more experienced lawyers had glass concealed offices along the wall, with windows looking out onto the city. Jiro took a deep breath and followed his directions, straight down and to the right where he hoped to see a secretary's station.

Luckily for him, he did, and he approached it a little apprehensively, geting slightly pushed out of the way by a big man in a suit who wasn't looking where he was going and didn't apologize. Jiro wrinkled his nose at the man's back before leaning his hip on the desk a little. The woman sitting looked up at him and smiled warmly, the first one he had seen yet.

"G'morning," he said, glancing down at his paper and reading his own kanji marks to make sure he got the guy's name right. "I'm the, uh, intern for Hiroshi Yamamoto?"

[Hiroshi Yamamoto]

Hiroshi sighed out, agitated at the busy morning and even more annoyed with the fact he was already being hammered by people wanting to be defended for certain cases, being there during questioning for some "people of interest" and what not, typical, but something big had gone down and he was the first to know, he had very close ties to the police force, as well as other law firms seeking to bring him and his clients down.

He was in a hectic state. He was doing his research on the new murder that had occurred this morning in a local warehouse. Apparently a man had been at some sort of a party and had ended up having a killer time, literally. The guys head was bashed in so many times it took more than just dental records to identify him. It took every piece of DNA imaginable. Hiroshi followed it simply because all these people who were being interrogated wanted him to represent them, sadly for them, he found no reason to get involved since they were all minor acquaintances to the victim and had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

His phone rang and he looked at it as if it had just invaded his personal space. Sighing out he dropped a piece of paper he was holding in his left hand, along with his pen, and grabbed the phone.

"This is Hiroshi." His typical line he used at every phone call, including when he was off work.

"I've got to hand it to you, you know the hottest men around, Hiro..." It was his secretary and he simply laughed out, leaning back in his chair as he relaxed slightly.

"Well, takes a hottie to know a hottie." The woman laughed lightly, flattered by his compliment. "Who is it?" He frowned, getting back to business. The woman drew in a breath and it was apparent she didn't know, which bothered him cause it meant it could have been anyone.

"He said his name was Jiro Lawson, an intern?" Hiroshi frowned and looked around on his desk. Was it time for one already? He had completely forgot, damn him for not keeping his work area organized. He sighed out and opened a few drawers, grabbing his schedule. He flipped to the date and saw that it was time and he had simply forgotten, thank god he had a better memory when it came to cases and clients.

"Right. Send him in, please." He heard her responde and then they hung up. Hiroshi looked out his office window to see the hallway, but hadn't seen anyone. He took this small time to clean himself up, running his hands through his long hair, strightening his tie, brushing off some lint on his jacket. Simple touches to keep himself looking professional.

Adjusting he thought of how glad he was to be getting an intern, or as people who worked there called them, personal slaves. He now had someone else to help him out with all this crap that was going on. He just prayed the young boy was good on his feet, good with his mind, and available at all times. Plus, looking good was a great way to get women, and certain men, to cooperate with police if need ever be.

Hiroshi sat back and played with his pen, scanning the carpet of papers on his desk. He felt unadjusted so he piled them into a stack and tapped them on his desk, straightening them out so he could just have an open manilla folder and one side with his paperwork. That way he would seem organized, plus it help his feng shui urges. He looked over through the glass and saw a young boy walking with a shoulder bag and a neat outfit. He hoped this was him, cause he would make many people cooperate.

[Jiro Lawson]

Jiro was pointed to a lush office just down the way from the secretary. He glanced around for two seconds before turning his attention back to the man at the desk. Young and attractive, it was hard to believe he was any older than Jiro's eighteen years.

Fixing his shoulder bag, he smiled wide and glanced around the office once. The man seemed organized, to a point, as much as any lawyer possibly can be. Approaching the desk, he held out a hand to shake the man's hand.

"I'm Jiro Lawson," he introduced himself. "You're Mr. Yamamoto?"

[Hiroshi Yamamoto]

Hiroshi heard him wallk in, barely, the child looked like he was only ten pounds. He glanced up to see a bright smile, this in turn made him smile as well, it was very nice to meet a man with good tastes in clothes, in manners, and in gentlemanly ways. Very hard to find these days. Hiroshi stood up, glancing at his hand only momentarily before taking it within his own and shaking it firmly.

"Yes!" He said loudly, happily, masculine always coming out when at work. "Very nice to meet you Jiro." He let go of his hand and pointed to one of the two leather chairs positioned in an angle across from his desk. "Please." He said motioning to them as he took his own seat.

"I am very glad you are here, Jiro! You have come at the best time right now. I hope you are a good learner. Quickl learner, too." He looked at the papers on his desk and he skimmed through them, before realizing this was just things he had gotten this morning. He scooted away from his desk and opened the bottom drawer digging out the files on Jiro. Hiroshi, understanding criminals, had felt slight empathy for the man sitting across from him and felt that he was probably misunderstood doue to his background. He scooted back to the desk and sat his folder ontop of the one already opened.

"Jiro," He said with a soft frown, looking up at him. "I have a few questions, some mandatory some not, about your rather...interesting past." He smiled. "Don't worry anything you say to me won't leave this room and you aren't going to get fired on your first day of work either."

"Give me a breif summary of your history, brothers, sisters, etcetera, we'll then work from there! I'll give you a brief summary of my history and then we can get down to getting you caught up on my daily drama, work drama that is." He hoped he wasn't scaring the kid, most interns he had ended up quitting after this little interrogation, some ashamed of their past, others a bit intimidated, some just not liking how he handled things. Either way, this kid looked bright enough to stick out the tough things. His hand shake told him so, as well as the way he walked to his deaks and introduced himself loud and clear. Showed confidence.

[Jiro Lawson]

Jiro smiled a little, sitting down in the proferred seat, and crossing his legs delicately. He put his satchel down beside him as Hiroshi spoke, and Jiro watched him speak. The question took him a little offguard and he felt his brow furrow a moment after the man stopped speaking.

When it registered, he felt his stomach flip a little, but sat up straight and nodded.

"My history, um..." he thought a moment, trying to think of where to start and what to put in. "I've lived on Coruscant all my life, I really don't know my parents. Um, brothers and sisters. I have two older brothers, Taro and Haruko, and one fraternal twin, Hitomi, whom I just only recently met," he said, chuckling a little. He paused a moment. "I've a sister-in-law as well, Jesimae."

Jiro wasn't exactly sure what his new employer was wanting him to go into. Jiro was sure that the man already knew that his past was a little bit spotty, but Jiro hoped the man was right when he said he wouldn't get fired. A gay, ex-prostitute, who was a pick-pocket and a stripper? It was amazing he was even sitting here in this chair.

[Hiroshi Yamamoto]

Hiroshi could sense the sudden nervousness in the boys stature and he let out a small laugh.

"I see. Well," He sighed out and threw a hand over the paper with his very colorful past history and run-ins with some of the local law enforcement. Although Hirp liked to keep those who worked for him out of the prying eyes of people who disliked him andn were always loving to dig up people's past, it didn't stop him from making his own judgement.

"We are only human, we all make bad decision, luckily I happen to have a full sipply of forgiveness." He smiled putting the paper aside.

"I', Hiroshi Yamamoto, been doing this for quite some time now, have won over 200 hundred cases in my short years of experience, but I must say...it is becoming harder now that I am becoming more well known." He frowned and sat back in his chair. "Most cases I won were stupid, probation violations, things like that." He furrowed his brow and shook his head, placing his hands together at their fingertips.

"But, the better you get, the harder your cases, the chances of winning becoming half." He pointed to the folder on his desk. "That is the pain in my rear end right now. Some....guy got murdered last night and I am trying to keep up with what is going on in the investigation, even though it kinda is illegal." he laughed. "But, oh well! I have several people calling who are being harassed by the law thinking they committed the murder."

Hiroshi sighed out, recalling the last phone conversation from a guy in jail becoming very paranoid about the police. If the man was in jail because of an intoxication charge and the man didn't die till he was thrown behind bars, how the hell are they going to pin his death on him? Seriously, Hiroshi was considering leaving this side of the firm to take on more honorable cases, prosecution.

"Anyway," He sighed. "I have to represent the man who is going to get pinned for this murder, whether or not he did it, I have to prove him, or her, innocent." He looked at Jiro and then the file, sliding it over to him. "I got everything. Pictures, names, everything the DA has, I have. Isn't it nice?" He laughed lightly. "See, what you are gonna be doingn is helping me with these cases. Organize, schedule appointments, do research, never ending until this case is solved and another opened." He looked at the boy for a moment before smiling.

"You up for it?"

[Jiro Lawson]

Jiro looked down at the file for a long moment. His mind listened and comprehended what the man was saying and for a moment it gave him serious pause.

Was he up for it? Could he do all these things, and do them well. He was a very quick learner and also a very obedient kid, despite his past mistakes. He liked Hiroshi already because of his readiness to look past Jiro's flaws and give him a chance to do a right, good job. Hiroshi gave him respect, and in turn, Jiro already respected him. He glanced over and down for a moment, his mind making up right then and there about what he wanted.

Jiro wanted this job, wanted a real job. Wanted to do something for himself for once, live on his own, make his own friends, have his friends over to his own apartment, have his own hard-earned money to spend. After a moment, he looked back up to Hiroshi and smiled.

"Yes sir, I am."

[Cira Vercelli]

Cira yawned as she cooked the small portion of breakfast she had gotten used to on her diet, that had happened to have been blown to hell and back more than a month ago. She had been doing well, until she gave in to her bacon craving, followed by her extra peice of toast craving, then the jelly, then the butter, then the salt...it was just all down hill from there and now she was smoking again. But she had a good reason, her ridiculously adventurous brother who enjoyed coming in at wee hours of the morning and passing out where he may lay.

He had been doing fine for a while, but this morning had crossed the line. Naked. Bloody. What the hell had gone on last night at that all night rave he had gone to? Cira was incredibly annoyed that she had passed on the opportunity to just get away from her stressful job. Being a goood interior designer was one thing, but being good and barely paid was another. Money was begining to kill her business, and her sanity. Then agian, having a rambuncious brother was also threatening to her health. Amongst many other things.

She sighed out as she pushed some scrambled eggs onto her plate, followed by her sinful indulgences she refused to actually acknowledge before grabbing her coffee and heading to the living room, turning on the news to find that it was about a brutal murder of a young vibrant man.

"Pity." She stated as she took a junk out of her cripsy bacon. "Another man dead, that is something you don't see everyday."

[Banner Nikolov]

If Banner's day had gotten any worse, he was sure he would be dead right then. No one was cooperating, with either he or his boss. Banner had been running left and right since six o'clock that morning. With this new murder case, his boss was prosecuting, and, naturally, his biggest rival was probably going to be defense--Hiroshi Yamamoto.

Banner's boss said he actually like Hiroshi on a good day and outside of work, but that when they went against one another in a case, it was like a dog fight, he claimed. Neither of them liked to lose, he said, and that made things that much more difficult, because they were always trying to stay a step ahead one another in information, and witnesses.

And now, Banner was getting the majority of the last minute scrambling that came along with the beginning of another case. He was trying to round people up, keep it as out of the media as was possible, try to identify the guy. Everyone who could be working on this case, was working on this case.

Banner was yawning now, so tired after three hours of work, that he thought he migh fall over dead at his desk. He and his boss had been hard at work for an entire hour, taking phone calls, and throwing back and forth ideas, getting a feel for the new case. Banner was already working on a suspect list, getting together people he would need to talk to before the day was out.

It was shaping up to be absolutely peachy...