The lower levels of Coruscant were bustling with life, with speeders and transporters leaving just as swiftly as they entered. Coruscant had long since established itself as the centre of galactic politics, playing host to the Galactic Senate.
Ships and vessels which left hyperspace were met by the distinctive rings of light which covered the ecumenopolis. Upon entering the atmosphere, travellers would be met with nothing but tall, gleaming skyscrapers that extended far beyond the original surface of the planet. With every new level constructed, another would be replaced -- left to rot and decay.
The fall of the Republic had allowed the Galactic Empire to rise from the ashes. It brought with it a shadow, cast across the galaxy. The Emperor wasted no time in expanding, farther than the Republic ever had, using brute force rather than anything resembling diplomacy.
Though the wider galaxy had changed virtually beyond recognition, the lower levels of Coruscant saw no real change. The same illicit activities and trades that plagued the planet during the days of the Republic continued beyond the rise of the Empire. Stormtroopers could be seen occasionally, patrolling certain levels, but they mainly acted as a warning for any smugglers or alleged spice dealers, reminding them to keep their activities far from the upper levels.
The only visible change on the lower levels were the different groups and alien life that kept appearing, all feeling the sudden unfortunate turn during the transition to Imperial rule. Individuals who would have never dared to think about the decedent depths of Coruscant were forced to inhabit them, unable to financially support themselves any longer in the cosmopolitan sections of the city world.
Accountants and well-to-do men were forced to work for unscrupulous organisations for a fraction of what they once earned. Respectable women felt the change in luck much more. The illegal sex trade saw a sudden boom, brothels and sex dens opened at an exceeding rate, pimps saw their credits begin to pile up at an eye watering rate.
Streetwalkers became an all too common sight, some veterans of the trade, many down on their luck in need of the credits.
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Ahsoka let out a brief sigh as yet another speeder dashed away, its occupant unwilling to come to an agreement with her rates. Times were desperate, but she knew better than to set her value so low, aware of how quickly word could spread amongst the travellers. The last thing a woman needed was a reputation marking her as a cheap lay.
Her life had already spiralled the day she descended the grand stairs of the Jedi Temple, the feeling of betrayal all too powerful. No longer did she have the security of the Jedi to keep her safe, to provide for her -- she had been isolated. The months that followed saw her navigating her way through Coruscant, as a civilian, using the tricks and talents she picked up during her time under the less than formal tutelage of Anakin Skywalker.
Anakin, even after the years that had passed his name still brought her sorrow, guilt for not being there before the Jedi Order fell.
After the triggering of Order 66 Ahsoka and Rex came to the reasonable conclusion that going their own separate ways would be safer for them both. They departed one last time, unsure whether or not it would be the last time they would meet. Little did Ashoka realise that within just a few years of Imperial rule she would once again find herself on Coruscant -- stranded by a personal mission gone wrong.
During one of her excursions into the galactic core, she had caught wind of a rumour about the fate of her former Master. The vile tale seemed to suggest that the body of the former hero of the Republic had been put on display in a sick display by the Empire, close to the Jedi Temple. In a moment of emotional turmoil, she punched in the coordinates to Coruscant and made the jump.
She parked her ship, the Weary Traveller, down in the lower levels. Taking up a disguise, she made her way up, slipping through the Imperial checkpoints without the use of the force. It didn't take long for her to find herself at a distance from the temple, using her macrobinoculars to scan it from a distance. She felt her stomach sink at the state of the Jedi Temple, what was once her home. Scorch marks littered much of the exterior, stormtroopers in gleaming white armour patrolled along the exterior.
Just at the top of the stairs she spotted a small smelter, used to melt down and permanently destroy lightsabers recovered from the fallen Jedi. But with every scan, she quickly began to realise the rumours were just that, fiction. There was no sign whatsoever of Jedi corpses being used on display. Ahsoka scolded herself for being so gullible, allowing her desire to find the truth of Anakin's fate to cloud her judgement. Every second she wasted on Coruscant put her at incredible risk, especially with the hefty bounties on the heads of any living Jedi, even if the captured no longer affiliated themselves with the group.
But her fortune continued its downward slide. When she made it back to the landing platform all that remained of her ship was the skeletal frame and anything too cumbersome to sneak away before its owner returned. Bitterness for her gullibility was quickly replaced with genuine fear. She had seen the constant reports on the net about the hunting down of the remaining Jedi, the fortunate ones were those who died fighting.
Without her ship she was stuck on the planet that now sat as the homeworld of the new Empire, using the force to obtain transport would have likely alerted the Jedi hunters, as well as any bounty hunters looking to make a small fortune manoeuvre their way into the good graces of the Imperial regime. She needed the credits if she wanted to survive.
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Her transparent plastex heels clicked against the weather worn sidewalk as she paced back and forth. She was cast in a glowing green light, emitted by a flashing sign behind her, enticing travellers into a notorious dive bar, known to attract some of the worst elements that the galaxy had to offer.
She wore a bright yellow tube top, which perfectly displayed her full breasts. A mini blue synthex skirt hugged her hips tightly, just reaching the centre of her thighs. Ahsoka copied her make-up style from the other prostitutes she had observed, painting her plump lips a light pink and applying a dash a white to her cheeks and eyes, bringing out her already sensual facial features.
The last of her credits she had on her were used to buy the garb she wore to the so-called 'Pleasure Alley' and she still didn't feel entirely comfortable wearing them despite the months that had passed since. Ahsoka had tried anything she could to accumulate the necessary funds to get off world, from light mechanical work on busted speeders to working in the backrooms of dingy diners. Anything that could allow her to remain concealed, aware that there were still individuals that would recognise her face from the trial a few years prior.
Prostitution was the very last thing she was willing to lower herself to. During her time in the Jedi Order she and her master had travelled through the lower levels of Coruscant on numerous occasions, usually to give support to the local authorities, a sign of solidarity from the Order. She saw many working girls on the streets, appearing as the light disappeared prematurely above. All were dressed in the most provocative outfits they could afford, approaching every life form they could to encourage them to acquire their services.
She pitied them, especially those whose pimps made their presence very clear. Yet, just a few years later she would become one of them. Those very same pimps made their designs on her very clear, doing everything they could to coerce her into joining their stable, but she shrugged off every attempt, knowing just how she would end up if she ever fell into their snare. Fleeing Coruscant was her only goal, not ending up as yet another one of the planet's spice addicted whores.
