New foes

Posted on Mon Mar 29th, 2021 @ 12:32am by Lieutenant Melvyn Kosta & Lieutenant Kor' de'leia

Mission: Scoundrels, Cuttthroats and Rogues
Location: Nar Shaddaa Sector 57 Blue
Timeline: Day 1 at 0600

The elevator came to a gentle stop and the doors hissed open, revealing a neighborhood only marginally less dodgy than the one they had just left, but more populated and with better street lights. The walls in front of the elevator were covered in colourful tags, some of them clearly gang signatures, many in virulent red. Melvyn scanned the street, uncomfortably aware that he was sticking out like a sore thumb. A lot of the beings there looked like drug dealers or prostitutes, sometimes both. A few looked at Melvyn and Hera before quickly averting their eyes. They knew better than to get involved - but it wouldn't be long before bounty hunters or petty criminals came around, he figured.

"We'd better move on," he said to his companion.

The upper streets were a joy to be disgorged in. As much as Kor aspired to the finer things in life, she was plenty used to slums and poverty. The gang emblazoned tags on this marginal commercial district at least showed their were rules, cash flowing and a hope for moving up in the world. Rough yes, but where life had cash equivalents, not just mere survival of the lower streets. It was just a matter of choosing when and on whom you wanted to cash in.

They'd barely gone a few steps when a Devaronian was tossed against a wall right in front of them. The Gamorrean responsible for this demonstration of violence stepped forward and lifted him by his collar, growling something threatening in his native tongue. The Devaronian helplessly waved his hands, desperately defending himself in a torrent of unintelligible words. Melvyn walked on quickly, not keen at all to get involved. Hera followed, watching her surroundings like a prowling predator. A hungry one.

"Hey - hey, you !" A being from an unknown species called in their direction, and he started moving to get closer.

"Walk faster," Melvyn mumbled to his companion, quickening his own pace.

"Try not to look so scared. It only encourages them." she mumbled back rolling her eyes at Corvin's paranoia. The man was obviously not from the streets. Typical humans were always afraid of what could not be controlled. She followed him be turned to give the being following them a quick look over and a flash of her sharp pointed teeth.

Be it because they were leaving, or because of the dangerous glare Hera directed at him, the alien did not run after them as they hurried down the street. A little bit further Melvyn spotted what he'd been looking for ; an automated vending machine. It was heavily tagged and badly dented, but the screen flickered to life when they approached. It was only a convenience store with the barest necessities, but it would do for their immediate needs. Fortunately it did not ask for any ID - Melvyn did not imagine that a lot of people had one, down here.

"There we go... bacta patches ?" The machine beeped. "Out of stock. Figures." Melvyn's voice was a mix of outrage and despondent fatalism. "Huh. Kolto patches ?" They flashed green on the monitor. "Good enough," he muttered, before adding a few things to his purchases. A basic disinfectant to clean up their various scrapes, a couple of packaged rations, bottled water, some bandages. He tried for new clothes but the machine didn't sell any. "Hera ? Need anything else ?"

"A bath, good music and a deep massage." Kor replied, looking at the screen of medicare goods. She tapped in a request for a pair of surgical shears and a pack of cigarra and a lighter.

Once they were done and had paid for the supplies, all that was left to do was look for a public bathroom, which proved to be more of a hassle than anticipated. The first one they found had been colonized by a group of Gand. The second had all the water pipes torn out, for a reason that remained mysterious. Finally the third offered what they needed, although it smelt like a Hutt had farted in it and the walls were covered in a visquous brown substance.

"Now we know why no one's using this one," Melvyn remarked as he opened the bag of supplies. "Here," he handed a kolto patch to Hera, figuring she'd rather tend to her calf herself.

"You take a girl to all the nice places." Kor stated with some disgust, but not stopping her from going in. She round a minimally soiled basin and put her dagger down and the chain she had wrapped around her shoulders. She hiked her torn dress to her hips as she took her first real look at her injured leg. The wrap she had put on earlier was mostly held in place by her own dried blood which was turning a disturbing tone of black. She accepted the Kolto patch and claimed some of the disinfectant, a bottle of water and some bandages along with her set of shears and the lighter form his supplies. Gingerly she cut the fabric from her wound, it covered a deep gash, that immediately began to bleed again. Gritting her teeth she lifted her leg up on to the basin and proceeded to rinse the wound, her own blood splattering into the basin and onto her knife. Wiping the gash with the disinfectant she rapidly slapped the Kolto patch on while securing it to her leg with the bandages.

While the twi'lek tended to her injuries, Melvyn opened the top of his flightsuit and gingerly worked it off his injured shoulder. The burnt fabric stuck to the edges of his wound, fused to his flesh, and he had to pull it off a bit at a time, wincing when his skin cracked and bled. After a few minutes he was done and left the top of his suit hang over his belt, revealing the white shirt he wore underneath. Good thing he hadn't been wearing one with the Imperial logo on it he thought, noting Hera's glances in his direction. He lifted the burnt left sleeve of his shirt and applied the kolto pack undearneath, sighing in relief when the searing pain started to ease off.

"That's better. How's your calf ?"

Looking at her reflection in the smudged restroom mirror, she sighed. She hadn't realized what a mess she was. "I'll live." she replied back to Corvin as she proceeded to rinse her face and lekku in the basin. The leg hurt, but she could feel the stinging tingle of the Kolto doing it's job. She would get better, that was enough. The public restroom was a big difference from the dressing rooms at the Chandrillian Opera House, but for someone that had been chased, shot at, flown in a dogfight, crashed her fighter, crawled to safety, captured by Imperial troopers, electrocuted multiple times and fought off a biker gang, she managed to make herself look fairly put together, even without make up. It had been a long day.

Stepping back from the basin she looked at herself full length. Her elegant dress was certainly looking worse than she was at this point. Her lekku curled down somberly. Taking the fabric of the dress in her hands she pulled at it across her body looking at her own curves as they showed under the fabric. She shook her head.

As she had done hundreds of times in backstage costume changes, she shrugged the thin straps of the dress over she shoulders and let the garment fall to the floor. She picked it up laying it across the basin to get the lines straightened. Taking up the shears, she proceeded to cut the the dress in half, and then cutting a long diagonal off the bottom to remove the ruined portions of it. Her lekku curled up as she started approving of the general shape of her work. She cut a long strip from the discarded fabric.

Melvyn politely averted his gaze when Hera let her dress slide down her lithe body. Even while not purposefully staring he got an eyeful. She was muscular in the nervous, taut way typical of her species. Modesty did not appear to be at the forefront of her mind, interestingly ; she was casual, matter-of-fact, like someone who was used to the attention of others and not bothered by it. She had a dancer's body, but Melvyn knew few dancers who could slice a man's throat casually.

He opened the tap and started washing off the blood from his face, still occasionally stealing glances at his companion in the half-broken, dirty mirror. The cut on his nose would take a bit more time to heal and might scar but there didn't seem to be any permanent damage. Overall he was doing better than Hera, the state her calf was in. She'd be limping for a while, unless she got proper medical attention.

This however did not seem to be her primary concern. She was cutting off pieces of her dress, which was funny because there hadn't been much fabric to work with in the first place. Still, she seemed to know what she was doing. Pretty much anything would look flattering on her body, anyway. She looked good and, if her confidence was anything to go by, she knew it.

In short order Kor pulled her edited clothing together. The fabric still looked fairly upscale, but the ball gown was now more of a cocktail dress with a low asymmetrical drop in the skirt to just cover the bandages on her leg, while the opposite side was slit almost to her hip. The long strip of fabric she had cut away worked as a rudimentary belt, keeping the skirt from falling off. It wouldn't pas in high society, but for the nightclub crowd it was surprisingly attractive and provocative. She looked at herself int he mirror again and nodded approvingly. She walked over to Corvin and picked up her pack of cigarella. She lit one of the rolled weeds and look a long draw of it, feeling the mildly narcotic herb warm her body. "Not bad even working without a pattern. How's the shoulder?" she asked holding the pack of cigarella out to Corvin if he wanted one.

"Well enough, it's a superficial wound." He accepted the offered cigarella. Usually he didn't smoke but today was as good a day to start as any. He lit it, inhaled and waited a few seconds before exhaling the perfumed smoke.

"An inspired look. Very, huh, minimalist. May I borrow your shears ?"

Kor gave her companion a generous smile and placed the shears in his hand. "But of course." she replied.

"Thanks." He took the medical tool and proceeded to cut off the top of his flight suit, without taking it off. Not because he was self-conscious, but because it would require removing his boots and he was not stepping into this filth barefoot.

His work was not as elaborate as the twi'leks, by far, but it didn't need to be. He simply got rid of the upper half of his suit and rolled the extra fabric over his belt, leaving him in a pair of black trousers and a white shirt. That was marginally less damning than a full uniform, though the military cut of the pants and the boots still betrayed him.

"Milady." He bowed his head teasingly to his unlikely comrade, in a perfect imitation of the stuffier acquaintances of his mother back on Onderon. "I am sorry we were not acquainted under the best of circumstances. May I say your dress looks stunning ?"

Performing a sweeping curtsy she had been taught in theater to be used to convey a message to the highest seat in an auditorium she replied, "Kind sir, you flatter a lady. Circumstances can always improve." She fluttered her eyelashes at him and gave him a genuine smile that left behind the bloodletting, pain and suffering of the last couple hours. Her violet eyes locked on his. She paused.

"We probably should go." He fiddled with the metallic bracelet around his left wrist. "We need to find another elevator to the upper levels. And keep our heads down in the meantime."

He wondered what she was running from - no one went to the lower levels of Nar Shaddaa, who wasn't running from something. Gangs ? Slavers ? Her own past ? Maybe even the Empire. He felt sorry that she'd gotten involve in his own issues. If not for him they wouldn't be hunted down by the Empire. The sooner they could remove the cuffs the better - though she'd proven a valuable ally thus far, and he actually kind of wished they could keep working together to stay alive. He certainly stood a better chance with her on his side.

Forget it, Melvyn. You don't even know the first thing about her.

"Come on, this place stinks." He peered outside the bathroom and, satisfied that all appeared to be clear, stepped out.

Her calf still ached beneath the Kolto patch, but as they walked forth from the restroom she carried herself as a woman at ease in the eye of the public. While not greeted by the flash of holocams and crowds of adoring fans, Kor felt far above their meager surroundings. The insidious tendrils of hope touched her heart.

Few people paid attention to them, or at least appeared to. It seemed they had left the drug dealers behind into a more residential area. Just as miserable but marginally less seedy. There were a lot more beggars, though, some of whom eyed greedily Melvyn and Hera. Thankfully a look at her blade and his blaster rifle were enough to dissuade most onlookers.

And then a drone flew overhead, speakers blaring with a holobroadcast.

"Attention, citizens. The Empire is performing a peacekeeping operation. Cooperate with Imperial officers." A bit of static, then, "Any citizen able to assist in the arrest of Flight Lieutenant Melvyn Kosta, accused of desertion, will be appropriately compensated by the Empire. If you see this individual, do not engage, report to the nearest Imperial officer or call Frequency 238.78."

The holopicture clearly came from his file. It was the same that had been used for his official ID, one that dated a couple of years back. But it was still clearly recognizable, the main difference between then and now being that his hair was a tad longer. And Hera was staring at it, eyes narrowed. Melvyn paled as he reached for his blaster.

Kor stared in disbelief at the holoimage being displayed. On the one hand it did not surprise her. She had assumed he had an imperial background. She had expected something more, political dissenter, murderer, something more dramatic than desertion. Her lekku rolled down. She was disappointed. She had her hopes built up by a lazy deserter. Not that she had issue with someone leaving the service of the Empire, there needed to be more. But this was anti-climatic. Her eyes shifted over to 'Melvyn' as he went for his blaster.

Not today trooper. She sprung into a side flip that brought her kenetic motion and weight square into his chest, propelling him against the nearby wall of pawn shop.

Melvyn's back hit the wall, head snapping back under the impact and hitting the duracrete with a dull sound, hard enough to make his eyes tear up. The blaster rifle had escaped his hand and hung from the strap over his shoulder, at too awkward an angle for Melvyn to grab it easily.

"Wait - " he barely had time to blink before Hera pinned him against the wall.

Without pausing she was upon him, her knife against his throat. She didn't cut him. Her violet eyes looking deep into his, trying to assess what he was and what she should do. "Give me a legitimate reason not to slit your throat. They did all this just to capture a lousy deserter? Who exactly are you 'Melvyn'?"

The blade was pressed against his throat just hard enough for Melvyn to feel how sharp it was. Any attempt at pushing Hera off him was more likely than not to result in a slit throat and him bleeding out in minutes. She could fight alright. Dancer, my foot.

Death was beginning to look like an increasing likelihood. Melvyn held the twi'leks purple glare and wondered if he was looking at the face of his assassin. She didn't look afraid or hesitant - if her expression betrayed anything it was closer to anger than anything else. Yes, he believed she would kill him without a second thought if his answers didn't satisfy her.

"You're right. I am Flight Lieutenant Melvyn Kosta. And I am a deserter," he acknowledged in a low voice. The blade bit ever so slightly in his skin. "I am a traitor and a defector."

Saying the words out loud made him wince, even though there was no turning away from his own actions. Hera said nothing, clearly waiting for more.

"I've been feeding intel to the rebels for months." The neon sign above the pawn shop cast flickering red light upon Hera's face, highlighting the sharp angles of her face in a study of shadows.

Traitor sounded much better than deserter. Still she kept the knife poised firmly against his neck. "If you work with the Rebel's who is your contact? Who is your handler. Don't lie to me, Melvyn, I can tell the difference." she said with a pronounced amount of spite, pressing the knife tighter to his neck.

This time the blade definitely drew blood, the pressure of Hera's arm on Melvyn's throat so hard that he could barely breathe. "It's true," he wheezed. "I know someone. Fellow Onderonian. Works with a rebel cell. Here on Nar Shaddaa." The lack of air forced him to gasp out the words in short, halting sentences.

He felt the warmth of her elbow on his skin, the sharp bone digging under his jaw, the knife securely held in place just underneath. Hera studied him with a curious expression, thoughtful rather than murderous, pondering his words at her leisure. The pressure did not ease up - if anything it increased, and black spots started dancing in front of Melvyn's eyes.

"I had to run - 'cause - thought they might uncover me."

"So you been just running around hoping you can jump a ship to get you off world? Or are you expecting your rebel friends will take care of you? As a lieutenant, do you fly or just fill out dots on a clippad?" she inquired.

"I - " Melvyn was about to really pass out when the pressure eased, only just enough to allow him to stay conscious. "Of course I fly," he snapped once he'd caught his breath, with as much indignation as he could muster under the circumstances. "Well, usually I do, except when I crash I suppose. I was going to run once I got to the surface, but... they found me out before I had time to get away. I barely made it."

Corvin/Melvyn's comment struck a nerve with her. He was the pilot that totaled her x-wing, and kept a barely aerodynamic TIE fighter aloft long enough to make it to the surface alive. She was more impressed with him now. But he was clearly an Imp, and a fully trained one. It crossed her mind to end him where he lay, however, he was the kind of individual she had been seeking out just that morning in the bar. "Impressive, if not insane, bit of piloting. By the way you owe me a fighter for the one one you crashed into."

"Wait - that was you ?! The absolute lunatic flying the X-wing ?" Melvyn craned his neck to get a better look at her, as much as he could with her blade digging deeper into his flesh. His affront made him nearly forget the uncomfortable situation. "What the hell ? You came out of the atmosphere with zero warning ! And you nearly crashed into me after that - twice ! You could have gone literally anywhere else but you had to keep tailing me !"

She let up on the blade a little at least to let him swallow. She pulled the blaster strap off his wrist and pushed the weapon off to the side beyond his immediate reach. No reason to take chances. "If I recall it correctly, you were the one being pursued by a wing of TIEs into my exit vector from the atmosphere. I was lucky to stay in a controlled crash with half my wings gone. Really screwed my whole day. Thanks." she said with sarcasm that masked her respect for his flight abilities.

Melvyn said nothing for a few seconds, contemplating all the ramifications of what he'd just learnt. Hera. The name of a famous rebel agent as an alias. Flying a X-wing fighter. This sort of training was not available to just anyone, and Hera was good at it. Most people who were in the way of a full wing of TIE fighters in a damaged X-wing would not live to touch ground, but she had. Not to mention that X-wings didn't exactly grow on trees Which meant...

"I came here because I was supposed to meet my contact. But now they've probably caught him. I tried to radio a warning but..." he let out a slow, hissing breath. Thinking of his cousin in an Imperial interrogation seat, because of him, was an uncomfortable image. "I don't know. Maybe he got away, maybe he didn't. I need to get in touch with the rebels." Melvyn's grey eyes met Hera's purple. "And you can help me do that, can't you ?"

Frotz no." Kor exclaimed to him, her lekku curling to wrap around his shoulders. "You think I'm running some kind of charity? Why should I not cut you here." she stated baring her teeth. This was silly, she was playing with him and she knew it. He would be dead already if she had any question in her mind."

"Because," Melvyn said, with a small amount of smugness despite his precarious position, "you fly an X-wing like you've been trained with one. Extensively. You fight and kill like a trained operative. You chose a rather transparent alias. And, when you saw a swarm of TIEs, you ran as fast as you could. Anyone else would have got out of the way and counted themselves lucky to have survived. But you didn't. You ran, the exact same way I did, because you were fleeing the exact same thing."

"You brought a world of hurt on me and mine. I am totally going to regret this, but you and me are taking a walk. I know some folk that will check your story, and skin you if you are lying. Actually I hope they save that honor for me." she shoved her knee hard against his sternum, giving her enough time to pick up his blaster as she stood just out of arms reach. He couldn't go far with the zapcuffs still on both of them, but she didn't really want him blasting her and dragging her body through the streets. "Let's go, Melvyn. It's not terribly far. Get moving." she motioned with the blaster the way for him to start walking.