Big Trouble in Little Duros [Horst, Asyr]

[Charlie Sharper]

It is common knowledge that the Core was the richest and most affluent of all the sectors in the galaxy. Not only was the richest and most powerful planet of Coruscant located in the Core, but also the beautiful Alderaan, the Industrious Corellia, the seat of Republic Ship building of Kuat were all located in the Core. Even Metellos, the less fortunate cousin of Coruscant is afforded a large sphere of influence. But of all the planets in the Core, of all their power and wealth, the least of these planets was, of course, Balosar. The planet was an industrial paradise once upon a time, but as the wealth of the planet grew, the condition of it's atmosphere grew more and more polluted. It is so much so, that the inhabitants of said planet grew to be immune from most, if not all poisons. Another side effect of the fast and nearly uncontrolled growth of the planet, was that the rich grew richer, but the poor, grew more so, and more and more of them dropped below the poverty line. Eventually, the economy downturned and many of the poor turned to crime, forcing those that could afford to leave to do so, or at least segregate themselves from the population at large, leaving the cycle of crime to continue unchecked.

It was here that Morwynn Skye, M.D. found herself without the credits to keep moving. The Zeltron had acquired a debt to a Hutt on Nar Shaddaa, and when she could not pay back the debt with it's massive interest, she began a planet hopping in hopes to avoid running into and old 'Friends'. Once on Balosar without any aforementioned credits, she decided to look for work, so for the last four months, she worked as a less-than-legal Doctor, helping those who could not, or would not seek more official medical help. She even set up a nice little clinic in the Duro Sector, where she saw the poor and destitute on a regular basis, treating them for illness and injury. It was a simple life, but a life none the less, and being an underground doctor, allowed her to do good while staying low enough to not arouse anyone searching for old debts. As expected, Morwynn started to get hassled by the local crews, small time gangsters shaking her down for protection, but it was the cost of doing business she told herself. Week after week, she paid into their rackets, but as they tightened their clutches by demanding more and more every money, she began to struggle with getting by.

[Theme for the next section]

All of this had run through the Zeltron doctors head a million times, but she felt numb to it. She couldn't feel anything at that moment, standing there, in her clinic, stitched up the arm of a Duro child who had cut his arm on glass. She moved with a solemn grace, looping the stitch in and out masterfully. The Boy cringed slightly but she didn't miss a step, moving with him as his arm jerked. She just coo'ed to him. "Ah, ah, ah, we're almost done little guy." She said as she faked a smile. He looked at her, and she silently wished she could mean the smile, but she just felt numb, not cold, or angry, or even happy, just numb. As she finished the stitching, she clipped it and looked down at him. "There we go..Would you like something sweet?" The boy nodded and she walked over to her desk, and retrieved a small sweet for the boy, before returning to the boy and offering it to him, he took it and ate it greedily. "Alright, off you get." she said herding him towards his mother, who thanked Morwynn profusely. The Zeltron just smiled a fake smile and took the meager offerings that the woman had to give. Mostly food, but a few credits none the less.

As the woman headed out, Morwynn lowered the cage outside of the windows, locking it, and then turned off the light on the sign for Skye Veterinary Clinic, the facade that she maintained to keep the police(All crooked) from adding to her list of payoffs she had to make every week. It wasn't long before she had everything packed up and started to head for the door when she heard the comm ringing in the waiting area. She walked to the comm station and answered it and before her appeared the face of her supplier, Zoreey. "Yes?" "Hey Red, I got that shipment of Hizapro...whatever on it's way." She sighed. "Hyzopropline, and Zor, I'm closed, it's almost 00:00!" She pleaded, but he frowned. "Well, if you don't want it, I can find somewhere else for it to go, I *do* have other options." Her hand went to her cover her eyes in tiredness. "No, I'll take it, when are you coming by?" She asked, thoroughly defeated. Zoreey's face grew solemn. "Well, that's the thing Doll. I can't bring it myself, too many rats out there lately, and their prices are getting a bit steep, so I got a guy bringing it by." She couldn't help but frown. "Who?" He looked away from the screen. "He's a smuggler, Horus Something-or-other. Big guy, scruffy, kinda like a shaved bantha.." She frowned again. "So you don't even know him?" Zoreey put on his sleezy smile. "Don't worry Doll, he'll be by soon. See ya babes." He said, Morwynn struggled to maintain a smile as the feed cut off, she hated his pet names. "S***" She said, dropping her bag and sitting down at the desk, she had nothing to do now but wait on some smuggler that she didn't even know to show up.

It was about 30 minutes later when she heard a knock on the back door, startling her out of her thoughts. As she slowed her heartbeat back down, she looked at the rear door for a moment before standing up and crossing into the exam room to the door, she looked at the screen that showed the feed from the alley, but the camera showed a mass in front of the door. She walked to the door. "Who is it?" But instead she heard something odd, like a vibroknife. She leaned in close to the door when suddenly sparks flew from the door. She jumped back and the door slid open, and a blaster pointed at her face from the alley.

"YOU!" Yelled the man holding the blaster. "You're the doctor, right?!!" Morwynn silently cursed herself for leaving her blaster in her bag...which still sat next to the desk. "A doctor, yes." She said as calmly as she could, she had been at gunpoint before, but it had been awhile. "Why don't you put that down and we talk-" "Shut UP! He's dying!" He walked, well, limped through the door. She saw that the mass was two men, the one with the gun was human, but the other being that he held by the shoulder was Rodian, and looked bad. "TAKE HIM!" He yelled, Morwynn began to cautiously approach. The Rodian held his midsection, and from the look of the blood oozing through his fingers, he was badly injured. The human kept the gun pointed at Morwynn as she helped support the Rodian. They carried him to the exam table, where Morwynn hoisted him up onto the table. "Why don't you put that gun away, I am unarm-" "I said 'SHUT UP!' Get to WORK! NOW!" Morwynn did her best to not make any sudden movements as she looked him over. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Human go to the corner of the exam room, keeping his back to the walls and the gun pointed at Morwynn, she could even see the shake of the gun in his hand. Blood ran down his face, and he held his leg with his free hand.

Morwynn looked over the Rodian, who was floating in and out of consciousness, and surveyed his wounds. He had extensive wounds all over his midsection, she tried to move his hand when she heard someone shriek, it was her receptionist Ryla, she lived above the practice, and must have heard the commotion. Morwynn looked up as the man pointed the blaster at the Twi'lek. "Who are you?!? Don't MOVE!" Ryla was frozen in fear, but snapped out of it slightly when Morwynn called to her. "Ryla, this man is a patient, please come over here and put pressure on the wound." Her eyes pleaded with the Twi'lek to just do what the Zeltron had asked. Whether she saw Morwynn or was too frighted to run, she inched her way over to the Rodian and began to push on the wound. "Ryla...Ryla..RYLA!" Morwynn yelled, snapping the woman out of her fear for a moment to see that she was actually making it worse, so she adjusted to try and tend to the wound.

"I need forceps and a scalpel." She said and Ryla grabbed both from the table next to them. The gunman readied his blaster. "What is that?!" Morwynn looked up at him. "I am trying to save him, so if you don't mind, keep the gun on me, Ryla, calm down, he's not going to hurt us." The man pointed the blaster back at Morwynn and Ryla seemed to ease, if only slightly. She handed the scalpel and forceps to Morwynn, who began to work on the man's wound, but he was fading fast. "What happened to him?" The man looked at Morwynn. "He got stabbed." "I can see that, I mean by what?" "Shut up!" She looked at him, but then went back to work. -He is going to get someone killed if he doesn't calm down- She thought. "Please, just calm down, I'm doing the best I can, but I can't worry about that blaster *and* my patient." She said, but the man didn't lower the blaster from it's aim, which was directly at Morwynn's head. "Just SHUT UP!" He yelled.

Morwynn continued to work, but the man continued to flow in and out of consciousness. Morwynn had to act quickly, she slapped a large gauss bandage on his stomach and indicated for Ryla to add pressure, She then began to spray a fluid around the wound as a temporary seal for the wound. After working for a few seconds, she had closed the wound enough to curb the excess of bleeding. As if on cue, the Rodian began to shake. "He's going into shock!" She yelled and tried to hold him down, which Ryla took over, while Morwynn reached for a syringe. "What are you doing." Morwynn didn't respond, instead she stabbed the man with the syringe and depressed the plunger. The man went limp. "What the hell is wrong with him?!" Morwynn yelled this time, "I had to keep his heart from having a Myocardial rupture" The man's face twisted in angry confusion. "I need to keep his heart from rupturing, it's common for Rodian's in shock. Just have to bring him back to life..." The human nearly dropped the blaster. "He's almost dead, yes! Now we bring him back!" She yelled as Ryla handed her a syringe with a very large needle. Morwynn jammed the needle into his chest and depressed the plunger. The Rodian instantly started to treble again.

"He's going Diathartic!" Morwynn yelled and Ryla reached for another syringe, but before she could, the Rodian stopped moving. "Get me the Defibrillator." Ryla Grabbed them and handed them to Morwynn, who pressed them on the Rodian's chest. "Clear." The body jumped, but didn't respond again. "CLEAR!" She jolted him again, and again he jumped, but no other response. "CLEAR!" She yelled, repeating the process, which she did again and again. The man in the corner of the room began grow stiff. She activated the defibrillator again and again, but aftert he 7th time, she looked to Ryla and shook her head.

"What are you DOING?! SAVE HIM?!!?!" Morwynn looked around the room to see if there was any way out, this situation was about to get worse, much worse....

[Fromikeable]

Of all the places in the Core Rim that Horst thought he would be seeing that week, Balosar had definitely not been one of them. He had supposed Corellia for a trip back home, or Coruscant for his own incarceration, or even just Kuat for another shady job. But no. Belosar.

The only planet in the Rim where he didn't have to worry about the cops.

In a way, that had made life sort of easy. With all the crime running rampant on the planet, Horst had been able to relax a little. Criminal activity was a staple of life here, sad as it was to say, and so a few men talking in hushed voices in a bar or by a dock didn't raise as many alarms as it did dinner bells. There wasn't much in the way of legitimate living, so people did what they had to get by. Horst could respect that in an odd sort of way; it was like Balosar was in the same ship he was. Or, at least, it would have been if that ship had been a huge freighter with modified pods that could launch freighters and was crewed by a couple dozen freelancers. But those were just details.

The job that was going to feed him today was simple, in comparison to the last two. Having become a little sick of smuggling rich aristocrats' illegal paraphernalia for Hells'-knew-what and a few crates of illegal weapons, Horst had held out for a while on jobs until taking one that didn't make him want to throw up where he stood; smuggling in some medicine to a run-down little clinic in the Duros' part of town. It wasn't technically legal seeing as how he was transporting kilos of prescription drugs and tools without any sort of documentation or license, but with all things considered, it was proving to be one of the Corellian's calmer jobs. Transit had been easy after the cargo was hidden, he'd actually made a little money with some legal freight en route, and now he was in a small rental ship filled to the brim with boxes of medication zipping through the night sky of Balosar toward what definitely seemed to be one of the crappier sections of town.

"Arighty... 'Skye Veterinary Clinic'..." Scanning the signs below for a matching title, Horst couldn't help but feel a small pang of deja vou. Skye, Skye... hadn't he heard that before somewhere? If he had, it must not have been for long, but for whatever reason it seemed to have a good association in his mind. Hopefully that would carry over; he didn't feel like dealing with anyone tonight. In fact, in a rather unusual mood, the Corellian hoped that he could simply drop off the meds, find a place to sleep, and get off-world the following day. No theatrics. No fights. No run-ins. Not even any events.

It was a mood that would go unfilled.

Finally locating the little front (Horst had been part of Spec Ops long enough to figure out when something was hiding something), the smuggler guided the speeder down onto the street and promptly parked it outside. The place was dark as a cave, save for a few lights that appeared to be on at the back. Horst checked the clock in the speeder; it was past midnight. Whoever was receiving the cargo must have been staying up pretty late.

Clambering out and making sure the crates weren't in obvious sight thanks to a few tarps and fake labels, Horst straightened out his coat. He was clad in some windy-weather attire; a light jacket, his usual cargo pants, boots, and even a cap just to change his image a little. His large stature still pretty apparent, the mechanic walked up to the front door, rapping his knuckles on the glass a few times. "Yo!" His gruff voice yelled softly, trying to be heard inside without being heard around the block. "Candy gram!"

[Charlie Sharper]

The Room was silent as Morwynn stared down at the man on the exam table, the weight of a million black holes fell onto her soul as she thought, -<Body...>- on her exam table. "What are you doing?" Morwynn could feel the enormous weight as she tried to look up at the man. "What is wrong? Why did you stop??? He's still dying! SAVE HIM!" She could feel all the air leave her, and her voice with it. She had to think of something, there had to be a way out, HAD TO BE A WAY OUT! Ryla looked at Morwynn, pleading her to bring him back to life, and the man started to tense up again. "Krytos is....dead?" Morwynn's voice sounded in her mind, but she almost jumped when she heard Ryla speak. "Please don't-" The man crossed the room and grabbed Ryla's arm, pulling her toward him. She coward from him, but he caught her anyway and a murmur of fear escaped her lips. He silenced her with a hand over her mouth as she stood in front of him, the other hand still held the blaster, which was currently pointed at her temple. "Shut up! I need to...I need to think!"

All three heard the noise from the door and it was as if time froze, leaving a unspoken fear in the air. The man was already dangerously unsettled by the situation, and with that knock on the door, it was anyone's guess what he would likely do next. Ryla looked Morwynn in the eyes, pleading the doctor to fix things like she always did. Even since the arrival of the Twi'lek on the scene, Morwynn had been keeping her focused and on task, telling her both subtly and not so subtly how to act and what to do to avoid them both ending up dead. Sadly for Ryla, though, Morwynn was without a plan or even an idea of what to do. Here, in the exam room of a Veterinary clinic, Morwynn could hear nor think of nothing aside from the sound of the knocking on the door. She could feel the whole world stop turning, and for a brief second that felt like a lifetime to Morwynn, she turned to look at the man with the blaster behind Ryla.

Surprisingly, the man was looking at her too, and like Ryla, seemed to wait for her to decide what was about to happen. Morwynn stared at him and he stared back, blaster in one hand, Ryla's mouth covered with the other, unsure of what came next. Morwynn did the only thing she could think of, she lied. Morwynn looked into Ryla's eyes, pleading with her to not make a sound or fight, the latter, the Twi'lek was far from, but most of all, to follow Morwynn's lead. Morwynn spoke then in a hushed voice, but still urgent. "I wasn't expecting anyone..." The man looked into Morwynn's eyes, rage battling with reason to calculate the next move. Morwynn made it for him. "If I don't answer, they will probably think something's wrong." Hoping he didn't realize that she was lying, praying the blood loss and shock won over better senses and did not alert him that whoever it was would leave eventually. He looked at the door, but then, looked back at Morwynn, and pushed Ryla over to Morwynn. Ryla nearly collapsed as she stumbled and took a position behind the Zeltron out of fear. "It's probably that white-haired bastard, he's gonna pay for Krytos..We'll see how he likes a sword in the gut..." He muttered as he walked over to the door, pointing the blaster at the two women.

Morwynn tried to keep her cool, but when any move could mean the end of both her AND Ryla's life, there was only so much one could do, but the last statement made her think twice, 'white-haired bastard' and 'a sword to the gut'. She couldn't help but think that it sounded like someone she had met a long time ago... But instead of dwell on it, she ran through the list of Duro's organs, the hierarchy of function of a Gamorrean appendix, how to treat Sloop Fever in a Hutt, the meanings of all the different colors a Mon Cal could have on their stomach, she thought about the side effects of every pill and shot in her stores, but nothing could destroy the imagine of Ryla's face of sheer fright in her mind, except that nagging idea, white hair and a sword... The blaster-wielding man walk to the door, still pointing his blaster at the pair of women. There was a camera for the front door, but it wasn't working...She silently thanked Ryla for her busy schedule and forgetfulness. "Yo! Candy gram!" Said the person on the other side of the door, who she hoped was an armed smuggler, and even more hope that he wasn't alone out there. She could see the confused look on the gunman's face. "That doesn't sound like Asyr..." The man said under his breath.

Morwynn instantly stopped thinking of the common problems shared by Zabrak and Ithorians, when she could think of nothing more then the Echani who she met on Zeltron, images of the hours that followed flowed into her mind and suddenly, she realized that on the other side of that door could be Asyr. As the gunman pointed his gun to the door, right at head level, and chuckled as the door began to engage. Morwynn couldn't explain her next action, but she did it anyway. And as the door slid open, the Zeltron lunged at the gunman, pushing him off balance began grappling for the gun. And the only word she could manage to yell at the top of her lungs was "NOOOOO!!!"

[Rugs]

There, as Asyr figured, two kinds of bounty hunters in the Galaxy. The first, and most common group, were simply bounty hunters. Men, women or otherwise that found a living, either because circumstance forced it onto them, or because they had a talent they could put to good use. Asyr, criminal that he was, wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with them, and even if he didn’t always appreciate their visits, he could at least respect them.

Then there were the bastards. Bastards with egos too large for their already-swollen heads. Bastards that thought they ran the Galaxy because they had a gun and a bit of coin.

If Asyr respected the first category, he detested the second. But they were few and far between, so he usually didn’t need to worry about them.

Usually.

But, as it happened, while he’d been enjoying a relatively quiet night on the overpoluted town, he ran into some bastards.

They found him while he was in The Naked Rancor, a cantina of ill repute with fantastic booze and some beautiful women. Asyr found one for himself and was working his charms on her when the bastards came in.

Apparently, he’d done something that pissed someone off. That didn’t really surprise him too much. However, the Echani did not appreciate being interrupted while he had a woman in hand and booze in the other. He disliked further bounty hunters that took it upon themselves to start trying to off him in the middle of a cantina.

They were bastards, through and through.

So he fought them. One got a knife to the gut. The other got a broken nose before he ran off with his partner. Asyr contemplated letting them go, for a moment, but they’d thoroughly killed any hope for a pleasant evening and, more dangerously, pissed him off.

He trailed them. It wasn’t a complicated thing, following the drip-drop splatter path of Rodian blood through the dirty streets. He sent a message to Flitch to join him, but it would take time for the little droid to catch up; Asyr left him behind, since going out hunting for floozies with the droid was about as fun as taking his grandma with him.

The trail eventually took him to a particularly-shady part of town, if anything on Balosar could be said to be more shady than the other. He found a flickering sign that read “Skye Veterinary Clinic” with a large man standing by the door with what Asyr assumed were crates hidden a few paces away from him. Something in the name on the sign tickled a distant memory, but the Echani didn’t pay much mind to it.

“Pardon me,” he told the large man as he shouldered past into the door. As he touched a finger to the grimy surface, he heard a woman scream from within and tensed as he dropped a knife into his hand from his crimson coat sleeve.

The door swung wide. Chaos reigned on the other side. Asyr saw one of the bastards dead, apparently fallen victim to his stabbing. The other one grappled with a familiar-looking woman on the floor…

“YOU!” He shouted, both at recognizing Morwynn of all people, and the bastard that was trying to hurt her.

Without a second thought, he moved to the man and stunned him with a hard kick to the side that shattered some ribs. A kick sent the gun skittering across the floor where Morwynn could get it if she wanted. Asyr grabbed the wheezing man by both sides of his collar and slammed him roughly against the wall. Then he pressed the edge of his knife against his neck, pressing just so to break the skin and let blood flow.

“You,” he growled, silver-blue eyes hard and threateing, “give me one reason not to kill you. And you,” he added, looking to the large man. “You one of his pals or not?”

[Fromikeable]

All Horst could hear in response to his knocking was a bunch of dead air, only slightly interrupted by a few distant whispers and a few shuffles. Sighing, the engineer looked back at his boxes, his brow expressing his irritation. He'd just walked all the way out here with 4 crates worth of contraband for jack squat. Sighing in aggravation and rubbing his stubble, he banged on the door a few more times. "Hey, ya' want this crap 'r don'tcha'?"

It was at that point that someone shouldered past the Corellian, pardoning himself and going to open the door. Giving him a skeptical look and about to ask just what the heck he was doing there, Horst's thought process was cut short by a scream coming from within... Godsdamnit. His hand moved straight to his blaster, hidden beneath his jacket at his waist, and as the Echani beat him to muscling the door open, he was sweeping in right behind, his gun up and his eyes searching.

What greeted him was a total mess. A dead guy on an operating table, covered in blood. Another nutjob getting his ribs kicked in by the Echani, covered in blood. Some Zeltron woman that looked pretty damn familiar having just had the nutjob kicked off of her, covered in blood. And the Echani kicking the nutjob's ribs in, probably hoping to cover the guy with even more blood.

Couldn't've just stayed a pirate, could ya' Stellar? At least then, life had made sense.

Not relaxing his stance or gun at all, Horst came to point it in the general direction of the Echani and the schmuck he was holding up against the wall, slowly strafing over to the Zeltron. Was that... "... Morwyn?" He would've smiled a little had the situation not been so tense. He hadn't seen her since Spearpoint. "Hells woman, ya' okay?" Not breaking his gaze from the two men in conflict, he bent his knees a bit and offered her a hand, his gun still trained. When he was given a rather direct question by the Echani, his gruff voice answered back just as directly.

"Hey pal, I'm just tha' damn delivery boy. Don't know ya' 'r that schmuck froma' hole in tha' wall."

[Charlie Sharper]

When Morwynn collided with the man, Ryla let out a shriek of fright before fainting and falling to the ground. Morwynn attempted to grab the man's weapon, but she couldn't reach it however, as the man stood between her and the holdout Blaster. The element of surprise was in Morwynn's favor, and thanks to that, he was too surprised to simply turn the blaster on her. She held his arm away from her and kept him from blasting her, but he was clearly stronger, and as such, she wouldn't last long against him. Her salvation would come in the form of the door opening however, and a boot appeared to kick the man in the ribs. After which, he was forcibly pulled off of Morwynn and thrust into a wall, with a knife to keep him from moving. Morwynn let out a sigh of relief but it stuck in her throat as she saw the white hair on her assailant's assailant's head. She couldn't believe it, it WAS Asyr. She could hardly believe he was here, saving her, but as he spoke, she realized that there was yet another person present other than herself, the assailant, Ryla, and Asyr.

She looked to the doorway and her surprise was vocalized the minute she saw him. "Horst?!" She asked with a perplexed look. "What the h-?" She took the offered hand from the former Spearpoint member, and rose to her feet as he pulled her up. As soon as she was up, she looked back at Asyr, who still had the man at knifepoint. Morwynn didn't even turn towards the Twi'lek on the ground or Horst in the doorway. Instead, the Zeltron reached out and touched the shoulder of the white-haired man. "Asyr!" She hugged him tightly, a very 'thank you for saving me' hug, but also a 'Thank gods you're still alive' type of hug as well. She pushed her head into his chest, closing her eyes.

"What are you doing here? Are you ok? Are you hurt?" She asked, before stepping back away from Asyr and looking him up and down. She began running through all the possible problems he could have, but he seemed to be alright. "It's been so long..." She muttered and hugged him again. She didn't mean to ignore Horst, but to her credit, she had nearly been killed tonight, and this situation was rather odd, even she would admit that tonight was as far from how she expected it as could be. Not only had two people she had never expected to see again come back into her life, but the near death experience was something that she never got used to.

[Rugs]

Asyr heaved the captive man to the ground with a growl, giving him another good, solid boot to the ribs for good measure. His eyes stayed locked on the other man, who was standing near the door with a firm grip on his gun, which happened to be pointed in Asyr’s general direction. The Echani’s hand found of one his own blasters, tucked away at his hip beneath his flowing crimson coat. He didn’t draw, for the threat of escalating and already tense situation further, but his touch on the firearm held steady.

“Then you can lower the gun, pal,” he said curtly. “If you ain’t here to hurt the gal, I ain’t here to hur-“

Two arms wrapped tightly around his waist at the same time a feminine voice gleefully exclaimed his name his name. The latter removed the threat of the former being one of the goons trying to wrangle Asyr to the ground, and the Echani quickly overrode the reflexes that nearly had his elbow flying up and back to break a nose.

Instead, he smiled, allowing some of the tension to leave his muscles as he laughed, in spite of himself.

“Morwyn…” he said, patting her hands where they met over his stomach. “It’s good to see you again, but we’re going to have to stop finding such exciting ways to cross paths.”

"What are you doing here? Are you ok? Are you hurt?”

“Chasing a few bastards,” Asyr muttered. A pale eye turned to the one who was still alive on the floor and presently clutching at his ribs. He contemplated giving the fellow another swift kick, but he wasn’t that cruel. Or that pissed.

Well maybe he was that pissed.

He shrugged to the second question. “Eh, I’m fine. Nothing you need to worry yourself over. Had worse trippin’ down the stairs anyway.”

Morwyn hugged him again, and Asyr hugged her back, only slightly mindful that a guest was watching. He supposed that at least, would help things simple. For now, anyway. That and the corpse and wounded man that were still laying around.

“It has been some time,” he said as he separated from the Zeltron woman. He gave an encouraging squeeze to her shoulder, smiling warmly. “We’ll have to catch up, y’know. But let’s figure out getting this mess cleaned up.”

Fully aware that he’d completely ignored the other man beyond baring past him to get into the dingy little clinic and threating him in the midst of a rage, Asyr turned, walked and offered a hand. “Sorry about the threats, back there. Heat of the moment, boiling blood. Y’know how it can be, I’m sure. But Asyr YEvor. Pleasure t’meet ya. If you’re a friend of hers, you’re a friend of mine.”

He turned, briefly scratching the back of his head before he leaned over to wipe his knife’s blade on the wounded goon’s coat. “Now what was goin’ on in here that had these two rasin’ that sorta hell?” His eyes found Morwyn as he crouched over the man. “Seems to me a clinic shouldn’t be that busy. Even the little ones.”

[Fromikeable]

The Echani's eyes only found Horst's as he stared him down. Horst might not have been the brightest of bulbs, but in a stand-off he was far from a pushover, and his grip on his blaster only tightened. He saw that lurking hand sneaking to the back of his waistband and gripping a gun. So help him, if that pretty boy was stupid enough to pull it, he'd send a bolt into his head faster than-

It was then that the Echani started to say something that sounded pretty sensible in Horst's opinion. The fact that he was cut off by Morwyn practically tackling him put him ever so slightly on edge, but after a second, it became apparent that it was a hug. Sighing, Horst finally lowered his weapon, shaking his head. He was glad that this guy, whoever he was, was friend and not foe. All he'd wanted that night was to drop off some boxes, get some credits, and go out for a drink. Instead, he gave the two of them a moment to hug (albeit keeping an eye on them) while he knelt down and checked out the guy on the ground. The poor bastard was still alive, it seemed, but probably didn't feel it.

"Hey," Horst muttered, smacking the man's cheek a little harder than he needed to. "Dumbass. Wakey wakey." All he got in return were a few achy, broken coughs and a painful, dull groan. The guy had pretty much checked out, not even conscious enough to open his eyes. Horst was no medic, but it looked like the Echani had screwed him up pretty well; those ribs looked like they hurt like the hells.

Finally, the Echani and Morwyn ended their little reunion, and Horst eyed him as he walked over. He seemed amiable enough now that they weren't in a deadlock, and what he said actually got the Corellian to give a few hearty chuckles. "Eh, don' worry about it. Ya' ain't tha' only one with hot blood." Horst's meaty paw grabbed his, giving him a good, firm shake. "Name's Horst Stellar, n' likewise."

The question proposed, however, was a good one. What exactly had gotten two idiot goons like these threatening Morwyn? There hadn't enough prescription drugs in her shipment to sell at a profit (enough for practicing medicine, Horst figured), so slinging dope and death-sticks seemed out of the question. "Yeah, what gives Skye? Oh, n' good ta' see ya'. S'been an age." He prodded the unconscious man in the side of the head with his boot, inspecting to see if he had come to. "Gang problems? Ya' ain't in with the mobs, are ya'?"

[Charlie Sharper]

(I started this and didn't finish it, so if something doesn't make sense, it was probably going to be a great post before I left a and came back...xD Also, Text heavy post is Text heavy)

As Asyr hugged back, Morwynn hugged as hard as she could, mostly because of the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She chuckled slightly to Asyr's mention of how each meeting tends to be more exciting than necessary. "I can't make any promises. But if it makes you feel better, I think they wanted to make your night exciting, my night was just a casualty this time..." When she let go of Asyr, he gave a supportive squeeze of her shoulder, and mentioned the idea of cleaning this up. "Good idea..." She said passively, turning to look at Horst, she took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, calming herself quickly enough. When she opened her eyes, she already had a plan forming in her head.

"It has been a long time, and no, I'm not working for the mob." She said, leaning over the man and grabbing his id from his back pocket. "But...it would appear he does..." She said, showing the other two his badge. "He's local police. But not from the Duros sector...he's from the Slums, so he's an Itor family thug. Since they only sent two after Asyr, they want him dead quietly, but now that you're not dead, they may send more, and they won't want anyone else, so that means the rest of us are dead." She looked up to Asyr and Horst as she stood back up. "That is, unless the Duros sector cops get here first, who work for the Itor's rivals, the Norra family. They will kill him, She pointed at the man on the ground. "And try to sell Asyr to the Itor. Unless you put up a fight. Then they would probably just kill you. And unless Zoreey cleared the shipment with them, which, knowing him, he didn't, they'll kill Horst for smuggling on their turf. And they'd kill Ryla and I for trying to patch Itor thugs up...Or for fun." Morwynn spoke as she looked over at Ryla, who was still unconscious on the floor. "So, we can stay and fight whoever shows up first, or, what I would suggest, is running. I'll leave the arrangements up to you capable men, I have a nurse to wake." She finished, heading over to Ryla to wake the unconscious Twi'lek up.

As Ryla's eyes opened, Morwynn pulled a small flashlight out from her pocket and shined it in the Twi'lek's eyes. "Ryla, are you alright?" "Did he shoot me?" Morwynn did her best to smile at the Twi'lek. "No, but you did faint, just making sure you're alright." "Yes, I think so..." Morwynn offered a hand to the other woman. "I think we are out of business, you should go grab anything you'll need, I doubt we will be back." The Twi'lek nodded and took the Zeltron's hand, who pulled the Headtailed woman up. "Well, be quick about it, there may be more bad guys on their way."

"And I was growing so fond of this place..." Morwynn heard Ryla mutter as she hurried up the steps to her apartment. Morwynn looked around and quickly made an inventory in her head of the things she would need, cross referencing that with what she could buy or what would have to go with her. "Do we have a plan?" She said over he shoulder as she began to pack up some of the medications that would be harder to procure again.

[Rugs]

Asyr snorted softly as Morwyn hugged him more tightly, apparently trying to squeeze the air out of him in much the same way that water is squeezed from a wet towel. “Well, I don’t need much help makin’ a night excitin’ if I want to,” he muttered, tempted to kick one of the poor buffoons sprawled out on the floor. “Bounty hunters with guns and itchy trigger fingers usually aren’t on my go-to list to make that happen, either.” He paused to pat Morwyn’s back before the Zeltron finally pulled away with a supportive squeeze to his thick shoulder.

The other man spoke up as Echani and Zeltron ended their time together, introducing himself as one Horst Stellar. “Well met, Stellar.” A wry smile cracked the Echani’s pale face as he stuffed a hand into one of his many coat pockets and withdrew, after some fumbling around, a pack of fresh-cut Alderaanian cigarras.

“Hope y’don’t mind me lightin’ one up too much,” he said to Morwyn around the cigar that was suddenly in his mouth as he fumbled around for a lighter. “What with this bein’ a med house and all that. I’ll make it up sometime. Promise.”

It turned out that he was glad to have lit the cigarra. Morwyn figured that the two bounty hunters—loud asshats that they were — had been sent to take him down quietly. “Hmph. Can’t wait to deal with the brigade they must be getting ready for me if that’s the case,” he muttered ruefully around a puff of smoke.

Overall, the situation was less than ideal, and that was putting it lightly. “Well, seems to me our plan oughta be get the hell outta dodge,” he said once Morwyn had finished her situational assessment. He began to pace, coat flapping quietly to the rythmn of his agitated movments. “Now don’ get me wrong, I’m not afraid of fightin’ if I have to, but I’ve done the get-captured-and-get-shipped-off-to-hells-know-where thing before, and it ain’t fun. I dunno about you,” he glanced at Horst, “ but I ain’t getting’ caught up in whatever gang feud or scheming is causing all of this.” He motioned at the two disabled men and the general disarray that’d taken over Morwyn’s little clinic.

“Unless I absolutely have to.” Asyr sighed, found an empty chair—he assumed Morwyn’s, given its location near a desk with datapads and flimsies spread scattershot across the surface—and sat down, legs sprawled as he leaned it back. “And you don’ need to be getting’ caught up in this either, Morwyn. So that’s what I say. Hate to say you should leave what you’ve got goin’ here. You’re doin’ work for sure. But if it’s a choice between that and fightin’ the mob, well…”

[Fromikeable]

As Morwyn explained the predicament they'd all managed to sink into, Horst scratched his stubble and picked up the thug's badge, eyeing it casually as he listened. Some kinda' cops... He almost wished that he'd gotten a few cracks at them now, just in an extra attempt to help beat the stupid out.

Alas, they all sounded pretty screwed. Asyr had just rang the dinner bell for more of these idiots, Morwyn had been caught in the cross-hairs since go, and Horst had more or less stumbled in. He considered that he might be a tad less screwed thanks to the fact that he'd just arrived on world, but he knew how that word in the underground tended to travel, and it traveled fast.

The Echani made a good point as he said his piece. Fighting the mob wasn't exactly a long-lived job on any planet, much less Balosar. The notion made Horst grunt in annoyance, dropping the badge back on the thug's head and giving him one more light kick to the ribs before pacing a little himself, thinking for a second. He hated running from fights. Morwyn had a nice clinic, a nice assistant, and had actually been making an impact; something he could only envy and applaud, considering his own aimless smuggling since Spearpoint had died. With that said, it was a damn shame to give it all up at the face of a few crooks and their stupid grudges. What the hell right did they have to it?

"... Bahhhhh." The Corellian groaned a little more and threw down his hands, placing them on his belt and shaking his head. "Much as I don' wanna', reckon yer' right." He spat to the side, making it land on the thug's boot. "Friggin' scumbags d'serve ta' get their teeth fed to 'em fer' this though." Unintentionally accenting his opinion, he glared back at the same thug he'd kicked and spat on. As if those last two things didn't illustrate his disgust.

When Morwyn returned and Asyr relayed their decision, Horst could only add, "If it wasn't the godsdamned mob, I'd say shove their heads where tha' suns don't shine, but..." He opened his hands in begrudging agreement, as if to say "but it is the mob, so frakit."

"Gotta' ship down at tha' docks we 'kin use, 'least fer' a little while." Chances were that if these Itor chumps were watching the smuggling on their turf, they'd have smelled a smuggling ship that wasn't theirs' the instant it touched dirt. Honestly, Horst was almost worried that it wasn't even there any more.