Damn You, Murphy's Law!
Joss owns "Buffy," Lucas owns "Star Wars," I own my glasses.AN:
This series of drabbles was originally written for the Paradise Lost
November Drabble-a-Thon challenge. Most of these drabbles will probably be used and expanded in a story I'm currently plotting and will hopefully start writing once finals are over. Thanks to the amazing RevDorothyL for betaing!And we’re so afraid and it’s such a shame
There is no reason we should doubt it.
The things we want to say we’ve never said!
And we look away and it’s all ok and
Never really talk about it
It’s a shame the way we dance along the edge
Dance along the edge. Dance Along the Edge by Concrete Blonde
Prompt: Film Noir
Buffy stared at the body in front of her and resisted the urge to slam her fist into the wall. One, because it would hurt like hell, and second, because it would destroy the crime scene. Kneeling down, she studied the prone form before her. Whoever had killed this man knew what he was doing, she'd give him that. The only sign that the man wasn't sleeping was the neat blaster hole through his heart. It would've killed him instantly.
Wishing that it was one of those days where she could go to a bar and bash a few heads to get the answers she wanted, Buffy began to thread her way through the planet sized labyrinth known as Coruscant. Doing some head-bashing would be momentarily satisfactory, but would bring her no closer to whoever was trying to gun down Senator Amidala. This was being done by a professional, not someone trying to make a name for himself. She'd need to consult with Erkan to see if his contacts had picked something up where hers hadn't.
Before long, she found herself in the elevator, shifting her weight. She'd been ordered back to meet with some Jedi who'd been charged with protecting the Senator. She'd withhold judgement on them, but she doubted they'd be any help finding the assassin. Finally reaching the top level, the doors opened, and she stepped out into the Senator's apartments. She was there, sitting on the couch across from two men who could only be the Jedi. They turned in unison to look at her as she walked in.
"You rang?" she asked Padmé, crossing her arms.
"Buffy, I'd like you to meet Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and his Padawan, Anakin Skywalker," Padmé said, gesturing at the two men, who rose to bow to Buffy before returning to their seats. "The Council assigned them to protect me. Obi-Wan, Ani, this is Buffy Summers, one of my bodyguards." Buffy nodded curtly before turning back to Padmé.
"The guy who sold you out is dead," she said bluntly. "And before you ask, no, I didn't kill him. He was like that when I got there." The Jedi were giving her curious looks, which she ignored. "Whoever did it knew what he was doing. Nothing that could lead me back to him."
"That's certainly troubling," the one with the beard--Ben, or something--said thoughtfully, and Buffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Thank you, Mr. Obvious.
"If all you needed me for was the meet-and-greet, I'm going to keep working," Buffy said, addressing Padmé. The Jedi stood up as well.
"We would appreciate it if you would show us around the security," the older one requested, following her.
"If you would kindly follow Tour-Guide Buffy, it's right this way," she snapped back, irritated at being further delayed. The Jedi exchanged a look, but didn't reply. At least that was one small blessing, although she still wanted to hit something. Damn Typho for invoking Murphy's Law.