It's a Wonderful Life

[Anbira Hicchoru]

OOC: This is something of a remake of Frank Capra's classic Christmas movie, done through characters and stories from Swfans. I figured it would be a nice little holiday tribute to do. If you're interested, contact me via Agent Charley's PM, and I'll see if I can accomodate you.

IC:

"Whoever's up there, if you're listening, can you please take care of ol Zem Vymes. He's having a hard time these days."

"I hope Mr. Vymes is okay. Please let Mr. Vymes be okay."

"God, if you're out there, take care of Commander Vymes tonight."

"Vymesy's in trouble. He don't deserve it."

<center>Corusant</center>

Anbira stood alone in the Jedi Council room. It was late at night, and the Coruscant skyline was a glittering sea of pseudo stars, twinkling and shining in the relative darkness behind them. He looked at them all, taking it all in. Somewhere out there, there was a man, and he was in trouble. Anbira had sensed it.

Somewhere else out there, was a very young Padawan, who was late to his master's summons. Anbira waited patiently, hoping that young Loki Amrah wouldn't keep him waiting much longer.

[Loki Ahmrah]

Not too far away, a very tired and disgruntled boy found himself pulling on a padawan surcoat, dirty and creased from a long day of training at the academy, he grumbled and shivered. The floor of the turbolift was cold against his bare feet and his bed had been so warm. Not taking the time to glance out of the strips of plexiglass windows and admire the dazzling night time scenery, he instead pulled on his sweaty boots and half-heartedly laced them up, tucking the excess lacing inside and out of the way. The turbolift slowed to a stop and before stepping out into the corridoor leading to the Council Room, he gave his unruly, thick hair a quick once over and marched hastily forward until he was finally at Anbira's side.

"Sorry I'm late, master." His words were muffled a little as he bowed in greeting. "You wanted to see me?"

[Anbira Hicchoru]

"I was beginning to think that you weren't coming."

Anbira turned to see his young pupil.

"I hope your daily activities haven't been keeping you too busy. I need your help tonight, Loki."

[Loki Ahmrah]

At this, Loki quickly stifled a yawn in determination to not look tired. He hadn't forgotten the promise he had made to Anbira, he would never let his master down and would see through all that he asked of him. Every moment he had shared with Anbira since that stormy night was a sigh of relief and that night was always with him. He replied immediately, with renewed enthusiasm.

"Then I'm ready to help you. What can I do?"

[Anbira Hicchoru]

"I'm going to send you on an assignment. A very important one, my boy. You see, one of a Jedi's many responsibilities is to work to preserve and enrich the lives of others around us."

Anbira guided Loki toward the window, to look out at the city. Unfortunately, the windows were somewhat high, giving Loki an incomplete view of the cityscape from his stature.

"Somewhere out there, I've sensed a very troubled soul. His name is Zemil Vymes."

[Loki Ahmrah]

"Zemil Vymes?" Loki repeated, looking out of the window alongside Anbira, all the while standing on his toes and doing so as discreetly as possible.

"If he is troubled, then I'll help him." Loki was suprised at how confident he sounded for he had no idea how he was going to carry out his masters' wishes. He looked up to the sagely, old man as he stared intently out of the window and allowed for a brief smile to slip through. He straightened his face quickly.

"How can I find him?"

[Anbira Hicchoru]

"Now, you can't just go off galavanting after him without knowing something about him."

Anbira sits Loki down in a seat next to his, and also sits down. He then places a small stack of datapads next to the boy.

"I've had Zemil Vymes on my mind for most of the day, and I've looked for everything I could find about him. What I couldn't find there, I've meditated to fill the gaps between."

Anbira looked to Loki.

"I've called you because right this minute, somewhere down there, Zem Vymes is considering throwing away the most important gift given to him."

[Loki Ahmrah]

"Then what are we waiting for?" Loki blurted suddenly, wide-eyed, the sleepiness now shaken from him. He knew all too well the greatest gift a person possessed from his talks with his master and how Anbira stresses it's imporance. He stood.

"Time is against us and we can't afford to sit he discussing the matter when this man is down there somewhere thinking of--"

He caught his masters' gaze and defeatedly slumped back into his seat but with the same degree of panic in his voice, finished.

"We can't waste time."

[Anbira Hicchoru]

"Relax, I don't think it will come to that for at least another few hours. Until then, you need to know what has driven him to think about this.

Plus, if you pull this off, I'll teach you what you need to know to construct your very own lightsaber."

Anbira picked up one pad, holding it between himself and Loki so that they both could see it. Pressing a button, he opened the story of Zemil Vymes, at the beginning.

[Commander Zemil Vymes]

On one of the filthy and neglected lower levels of Coruscant, a group of children play in an abandoned scrap depot. Their clothes are tattered and re-patched, and their faces show the inherent grime of poverty.

"I found one, I found one!"

One boy clambors out of a nearby scrap pile, triumphantly holding part of a threadbare speeder seat in the air.

"Okay, that's third!" Another boy shouted, and pointed toward an empty spot of ground. The boy with the seat climbed down the scrap pile, arranging his prize so that it matched up with three other similarly-sized pieces of trash, in a diamond formation.

"What are we waiting for, lets play ball!" A tall, scrawny kid with tussled hair, stood in the middle of the diamond, tossing a small ball made of metal foil and elastic bands up in the air, and back into his hand.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

"That's Zemil Vymes" Anbira spoke to Loki, regarding the tall, thin boy.

"Oh, about 28 years ago, and that would make him eleven. He was born to poverty, in the lowest levels of Coco district. His parents worked in one of the blast furnaces, and could barely provide for him, or the rest of his siblings.

The boy over there with the seat cushion, that's Zemil's younger brother, Tobi. Today, they're out with the other neighborhood boys, for a little ad-hoc game of stickball."

[Loki Ahmrah]

Along with Anbira, Loki watched as the game commenced, his face creased with scrutiny and curiosity. He'd nevert played stickball before and had never watched a game either, even if the equiptment was a little unorthodox. He was beginning to notice a patern.

"He's pretty good at pitching that ball; I bet he played a lot." The boy casually turned to Anbira and asked, "Did he play stickball at school?"