Private Asylum Denied

[Doc Painless]

Denon, Seven Corners, Baker's Row
Doc Painless's Back-Alley Clinic
Early Morning
​

Doc Painless burst through the doors of his own clinic like a ronto in a ceramics shop, gasping for breath after a long, hard run. It was the early hours of morning, one of the rare times of relative quiet in Seven Corners. Last call had been an hour ago, and the bar and gambling hall patrons of Cheeskar's End had staggered home. The madams of Lum Rouge charged by the hour, and no one who lived in the district could afford to spend the entire night in the arms of their chosen companions, so the bawdy houses were all shuttered by now. Even the harshest warehouse taskmasters in Volgho Hollows hadn't yet ordered a start to the workday, and the night market in Baker's Row was winding down. For a few blessed hours, this little slice of bustling, overcrowded Denon saw almost no one out and about.

That was good, because anyone passing by might spot a recently-outlawed street medic.

The Doc had no idea how fast CorpSec would be able to plaster his face across wanted posters planet-wide, but he expected the usual level of corporate efficiency... which was pretty high when it had to do with making a profit, or anything they considered a threat to that profit. Promoting "disorder" of any kind on their ultra-capitalist paradise planet fell into the latter category, and Doc Painless had been caught doing it. He could already picture the charges that would be listed beneath his likeness: Resisting Arrest, Disorderly Conduct, Aiding and Abetting a Known Felon. Hell, if they knew - or suspected - he'd been involved in killing Xopsaloff, they might hit him with Terrorism and Conspiracy to Commit Murder. It was all true, of course. At the time it'd felt like the right thing to do, a justified crime.

Whether it really had been or not, he was paying the price for his participation now.

The location of the Doc's clinic, like most back-alley businesses in Baker's Row, wasn't exactly public knowledge... but it wasn't difficult to find if you knew what to look for. CorpSec just usually didn't bother looking. They tolerated the existence of the black market because it was inefficient and unprofitable to try to shut it down completely, and because it allowed many influential corporations to quietly dump less-successful products into it so that the Corpos could still turn a profit. But even if they weren't actively raiding shady businesses, they kept tabs on as many of them as they could. They had informants everywhere, desperate people who would sell out their neighbors in exchange for enough creds to make them slightly less desperate. You had to really keep things on the down-low to avoid their notice.

Doc Painless's clinic had never been on the down-low. It would've defeated its purpose: affordable medical services for the people who needed it most, meaning the many, many locals who couldn't afford insurance or the inflated costs of a corporate hospital. Sure, he worked with other folks, fitting plenty of runners with combat-grade cybernetics and high-tech hacking rigs, but primary care for the downtrodden was his main mission. Word about the clinic had quickly spread, and that was exactly as he wanted it. The Corpos didn't care what he was doing; he wasn't really undercutting their for-profit medical centers, because his patients were people who would never have been treated there anyway. In some ways he was actually an asset to those CEOs in their gleaming towers, keeping their workforce healthy for cheap.

He tried not to think about it that way, but it was part of what'd driven him to more drastic action.

In any case, the clinic's location was known, and it wouldn't be long at all before someone connected the Doc's face and his place of work. He had minutes at most before CorpSec or some hired gun kicked down the doors looking for him. It'd been a risk coming back here at all, but everything he valued was here, his life's work and every one of his prized possessions. He rifled through them now, stuffing the most essential and difficult to replace items into a duffel. He'd always known he should have a bug-out-bag, something to just grab and run with on short notice, but it'd always seemed like a project he could tackle another day. Now he was out of days, and it was hard to know what to prioritize. Surgical instruments? Medicines? Diagnostic tools? Valuable implants? He settled on the supplies he'd need for basic field medicine.

He was going to have to leave a lot of the fancy gear he'd bought on Wann Tsir behind, and that stung.

Sweat dripped down the Doc's face as he threw open closets and drawers, cramming everything he could into his duffel bag. He'd already filled it two thirds of the way when an alert pushed through onto his datapad, attracting his attention with a buzz. He paused a moment, heart beating fast, staring down at the screen. He'd known it was coming, but it was still an icy shock to see his own face staring up at him, accompanied by the bold-lettered label DANGEROUS CRIMINAL AT LARGE. Sure enough, they'd hit him with the Terrorism charge, along with Membership of an Unlawful Organization. That meant they knew, or at least had guessed, that he was with Darkwire. If they caught him, the DireX Board would make sure he never again saw the light of day, not after he'd helped kill one of their own.

They would lock him in some black site and brutalize him until he gave up everything he knew.

The Doc couldn't let that happen, not to himself and not to his friends. He wasn't in as deep with Darkwire as some people he knew, but he had enough info about their operations to do some real damage if the Corpos tortured it out of him. He had to get out of here, somewhere that CorpSec couldn't find him... or at least not as easily. And he had to do it now; by the look of things, there was a generous reward on his head, and plenty of mercs would be happy to collect. Stuffing the last of his most precious belongings into his bag, the Doc looked around the clinic he'd spent months breathing life into, the place he'd thought would be his life's work. He promised himself he wouldn't cry, and he did his best to keep that promise, biting down on his lip hard when he began to feel weak. There was no time to get sentimental.

What he didn't yet know was that he'd been followed, and he was already out of time...

Shai Maji​

 

[Shai Maji]

A squad of CorpSec anti-terrorist units were jumping out of an APC, fully armed and ready for action. The location of a Darkwire suspect was confirmed to be in the location of his workplace. It was a quiet operation, meant to catch the suspect by surprise in a quick and decisive ambush. Capture was priority, but lethal force was green-lighted in case the suspect endangered the lives of the officers. Either way, the suspect had to be dealt with. The entire unit was briefed and memorised his face. They knew he was heavily modified, possibly armed, and certainly dangerous from the look of things.

In that squad, one individual stood out. Clad in her Beskar armour with a very odd helmet as well as her size compared to the majority of the officers, she stood out like a sore thumb alongside the units who were suited up in their sleek armour and expensive weaponry. Shai was cold and focused on the outside. Seemingly focused in the objective she was getting paid for. However on the inside she was everything but focused.

Between the Blue Flame raid, this job, and spending a lot of time in the thick of Denon's political situation, she was having a lot of doubts on whether she made the right choice.

The separation, discrimination and lies were becoming more and more clear to her. She was keeping her thoughts to herself, but she was regretting taking on the contract the CAD had offered her. The Darkwire group's cause seemed a lot more justifiable than when she had first arrived on the planet.

The unit silently bunched up by the front door while a few troops circled around to block off any back exits that the suspect could use. Their weapons were ready to fire and the troops were highly alert. Shai drew her pistols and waited along with the rest for the signal to breech.

The sergeant at the front signalled for one of his men to plant a breaching charge on the door. With the flick of a switch the charge blew the door apart with a loud bang. The units poured in and quickly surrounded the suspect, weapons trained on him and ready to open up. "Hands in the air where we can see them! No sudden moves or we'll open fire!" the sergeant shouted with a commanding voice.

Shai watched through her T-visor as her pistols pointed at the man. Doc Painless, according to the briefing. She knew him, sadly. She had a delightful conversation with him at that party not too long ago and also saw him at the Blue Flame raid trying to help his fellow Darkwire teammates. She would have found comfort in the fact that her face was covered up... but it didn't take a genius to figure out that there was likely only one Shistavanen merc on this planet who was looking for work not too long ago.

"I'd listen to him if I were you, man. No need for this to get ugly." she spoke up, hoping to avoid having to put a bolt in his head.

Doc Painless

 

[Doc Painless]

The door flew off its hinges with a deafening bang, and the Doc squeezed his eyes shut. He'd taken too long.

He knew in his heart that he never even should've come back here, to a place they could trace to his name and face... but what was he without this clinic, without the diagnostic tools and surgical instruments and medicines that allowed him to ply his trade? His medical practice was the only unambiguously good thing he had ever done, and he hadn't been able to bring himself to just let it go. Now he was going to lose it all anyway, and probably life and liberty along with it. He let the duffel bag slide off his shoulder as he slowly raised his hands. It hit the ground with a clank that sounded like finality, the clattering together of tools he would never again get to wield.

He was surrounded, and it was all over. There was no talking his way out of this one, and he wasn't a fighter.

"I'd listen to him if I were you, man. No need for this to get ugly." The Doc recognized that voice. He looked up and took in the beskar armor that covered the Shistavanen's frame... the same armor that had covered the merc who'd helped lead the raid on the Blue Flame. He hadn't put two and two together then; she'd been at a distance, and he hadn't heard her speak yet. Now, though, it was obvious. "Hello, Shai," he said, his voice quiet and level. A sad little smile ghosted across his face, tugging at the edges of his lips. "I see you figured out how to find work on Denon. I'd say I hope my advice helped, but..." he trailed off, gesturing at the guns pointed his way.

His tone was an odd mix of bemused and betrayed. This was a hell of a bitter irony; Fate was one cold schutta.

Had he somehow let on to Shai that he was involved with Darkwire? Had she then managed to wield that information against him, turning it into a corporate paycheck? He didn't think so. Even as deep in his cups as he'd been when they'd met, he'd been careful about what he said, not even offering an opinion on Denon's current political situation. No, this was just a cruel trick of random chance, sending a face he knew to be the one to end the life he'd built for himself here. Ultimately, he supposed, he had only himself to blame. If he'd stuck to giving medical aid to the downtrodden, if he'd stayed out of politics and shadowrunner business, none of this would've happened.

Instead he'd meddled, trying to create sweeping, meaningful change for Denon, and now he was paying the price.

CorpSec grunts cleared the rest of the clinic, checking corners and throwing open the doors of back rooms. It didn't take long. Even at the best of times the Doc had always struggled to make rent while also keeping up his stocks of medical supplies, and the clinic was a small place, the kind of backroom commercial space that even the credit-strapped could sometimes manage to afford. The street medic winced as they carelessly rifled through his cabinets, tossing pill bottles and bandage packs to the floor as they ransacked the place for illegal goods. They wouldn't find any - he was smart enough not to keep any on the premises - but it wouldn't matter.

They had labeled him a terrorist, so his fate was already sealed. No one would ever hear from him again.

Deep inside the Doc, down past all of the grief and regret and self-loathing, something snapped. He wasn't ready to submit, wasn't ready to lay down and die because some cabal of oppressive, controlling plutocrats had decided his life was over. What gave them the right? His eyes, long ago replaced with cybernetics, couldn't blaze with fury or purpose like organic eyes could... but they focused. "Do you remember what I told you the Corpos do?" he asked Shai, staring at her visor so hard it seemed his gaze would pierce through it. "Whatever they can get away with. Today you're useful, so you get paid, and I'm happy for you. But tomorrow..."

He shook his head. "Whatever they can get away with, Shai. Watch out for that, because it'll bite you."

In a movement almost too quick to follow, the Doc lashed out. He kicked the metal table beside his operating chair, the one that held his array of surgical instruments, striking it with several times the force a normal human leg could muster. It was a blow that would have shattered the shinbone of any ordinary person, but the street medic had turned off the pain receptors in his legs, and his durasteel alloy implants easily absorbed the force. The table flew into the air as far as head height, turning over and over like a backflipping acrobat, before it crashed back to the ground with a clatter and lay on its side. Behind it, the Doc was gone, already on the move.

The synthskin on his lower leg would be bruised all to hell, or even pulped, but it'd be more than worth it if he escaped.

The CorpSec goons had surrounded him, and while the flipping table had blocked lines of fire for those in front of him, another had been on his left - between him and the side exit he meant to take. The Doc shouldered through the shocked security officer, tearing his rifle from his hands with the power of nanofiber-woven synthmuscles and then body-checking him out of the way. The guy hit the floor and slid into the wall, stunned, and the Doc crashed through the door before it was even fully open, denting the metal frame. He wasn't a fighter, but a large fething percentage of him was made of combat-grade cybernetics and grafts, and that counted for something.

They'd be after him in seconds, he knew. Abandoning everything, he pounded up the alley at an all-out sprint.

Shai Maji​

 

[Shai Maji]

Her heart sank the moment his greeting left his lips. She stood in silence as he spoke, unable to find the heart to speak to a guy she genuinely enjoyed. He seemed like a legit sort. He didn't seem to be a liar or a scammer. He just did what he loved doing... yet there they were.

She stared back at him with guilt gripping her soft and gentle heart. Despite everything, something like this wasn't something she wanted to encounter. "Hey, careful with his stuff!" she called out to the troops searching the place. Predictably nothing happened. "Shut it, merc. You're here for support, so keep your muzzle shut." the sergeant snapped at her. She glared at him but said nothing else, instead merely looking back to the Doc.

He spoke again... but this time something seemed off. She could see it in his eyes. It looked like the same eyes that stared back at her in the mirror or in the reflection of a Sith trooper's own visor. Beyond grief and helplessness. It was a sudden shift and looked odd on such a calm man. But it was an indicator only she seemed to pick up. The CorpSec troops didn't seem to predict what was coming.

Then the table flew and he was gone. The cops opened fire but nothing scored. Shai's pistols had lowered already as she stared at the exit he made for himself. She was rather jealous of his upgrades.

"The hell was that?" the sergeant barked at her. "Are you gonna do your job, Mando, or am I gonna have to arrest you too?" he chewed her out while several of his units pursued the Doc. "You better back off." Shai threatened coldly as she glared at him. "No, you better get your poodoo sorted. Either you go get the kriffer, or you leave. There's plenty of other mercs looking for work. Much better mercs than you." was the last the sergeant said before joining his troops in the pursuit.

Shai stayed in the clinic, unmoving for several seconds as she contemplated what the Doc said to her.

Finally her head snapped back to the exit. She had an opportunity to make this right. She sprinted out the exit and fired up her jetpack. Manoeuvring through the streets she quickly caught up to the Doc and the troops close behind him. With a flick of her wrist a few flashbangs dropped in front of the troops, throwing them off for a few seconds and allowing the Doc to make some distance. Shai kicked up her pace and caught up with the Doc.

"We need to get you off the streets and back to your place!" she called out to him as she flew above him. Blaster bolts soon zipped past them and bounced off her armour. The sergeant and his unit had caught up.

Landing on the ground, she opened fire and managed to get the obnoxious officer and one other trooper before falling back, giving covering fire to the Doc.

Doc Painless

 

[Doc Painless]

Denon wasn't a place that was renowned for the empathy of its citizens, which was part of why the Doc stood out. He was no Force-user, but he had a pretty good feel for people; he could put himself in their shoes, and he could often tell what they were thinking. In this instance, though, Shai's beskar armor had defeated his powers of perception. Unable to see her face or read her body language, the street medic hadn't known - or even guessed - that she'd been sympathetic from the get-go. He'd assumed she was just like all of the mercenaries in Corpo employ that he'd encountered before: cold and jaded, ready to soothe any moral pangs with fat stacks of credits.

He was about to be pleasantly surprised. Which was good, because he had barely any plan to speak of.

As he pounded up the alleyway, the Doc knew that the Corpo goon squad wouldn't be far behind... and that they were almost certainly calling in backup already, with more of their number closing in to cut off every street and alleyway. The people he was defying right now ran Denon. They had access to every traffic monitor and security camera planet-wide. They knew every account he'd ever touched and could access almost every message he'd ever sent. Anytime he linked up to a network anywhere in their megacity, they would now instantly. While he'd been beneath their notice, it hadn't been a problem; they didn't bother with small-time illegal activity. But now...

Now he was hunted, and everything about him was flagged, from his face to his gait to his aftershave.

The Doc knew there was only one solution: he had to go down deep, somewhere completely off the grid. There weren't too many of those places, and all of them were dark, dangerous, and filthy. They were the underlevels, the old underlevels, among the ruined and abandoned infrastructure that predated the current labyrinth. The Corporate Authority had gradually modernized the countless sublevels of power plants and water treatment facilities and air purification systems that kept Denon functional... and that meant that they were guarded by security droids and studded with cameras, to prevent the poor and desperate from stealing water or electricity.

But Denon was a planet-wide city, mind-bendingly vast, and the CAD hadn't found it profitable to modernize everything.

At the edges of Denon's infrastructure sublevels, beyond the machinery that was actively keeping the ecumenopolis running, squalid little fringe communities popped up in the deserted sections of the city's foundations. There was one the Doc had been to before, a place he'd hoped never to go back to: Smogtown, a wretched, polluted slum beneath the giant Globex arcology known as The Wall. He'd tried to help the people there once, a long while ago, but that place had defeated him. He had given up, convinced that there was no way he could do enough good in a place that broken to ever matter. Now, his only plan was to go back there, into the choking dark.

For all of its abject misery, Smogtown did have two things to offer: no cameras, and no CorpSec patrols.

Of course, how the Doc was going to get all the way to the slums beneath The Wall with dozens of Corpo goons hunting him was not something he'd been able to work out yet. He heard the whine of a jetpack above him, momentarily drowning out the shouts of his pursuers, and his heart sank; Shai must be closing in on him. With the advantage of surprise, he'd been able to get past her. But if she cut him off, if it came down to pitting his strength against hers, he knew he would lose. She was very obviously better at this kind of thing than he was, or ever could be, and she was a lot faster than he was too. Oddly, though, the jetpack seemed to be falling behind...

With a series of loud boom-pops, the flashbangs went off. Well behind his position, too. Had she missed?

The jetpack roared again as the Corpo goon squad yelled in pain and confusion... had they been hit by the flashbangs by mistake? That was coming out of the mercenary's fee for sure. As the noise of Shai's jets grew louder, Doc Painless spun to face the Mandalorian, determined to go down fighting even if he didn't stand a fool's chance. Then he stopped cold. "We need to get you off the streets and back to your place!" Was she... trying to help him? He didn't waste time questioning it. Skidding to a halt in an alley, he breathed hard, his enhanced lungs drawing in huge, gasping breaths to nourish his screaming synthmuscles. Even those couldn't run forever.

"I can't go back there now," he finally gasped out. "I never should have. They'll be watching it. I've got to get somewhere low, somewhere off the grid." The Doc gradually straightened up, checking the alley for cameras. None that he could see; they could pause, if only for a moment, thanks to Shai's trick with the flashbangs; it seemed they'd hit her intended target after all. "Look," he said, offering her a genuine - if strained - smile tempered by deep worry, "I don't know what changed your mind, but I appreciate it. You don't want to go down with me, though. They'll hunt you too if you stand up to them. Did they see you drop those grenades?"

He hoped not. He didn't want anyone else to suffer because of his mistakes. There'd been too many already.

 

[Shai Maji]

Shai managed to drop their pursuers and ran after the Doc. After a while they found a spot where they could catch their breaths. She didn't waste a moment to yank off her helmet and catch her breath as the Doc spoke.

"But... all your stuff is still there? Getting equipment like that isn't cheap or easy. I can help you get back in there." she offered with concerned eyes.

He went on to thank her and warn her about helping him. She smirked and waved his concerns off as she slid her helmet back on. "Don't worry about me. I got my way of getting around bounties and authorities. Perks about being in the smuggling game for years." she spoke, almost bragging as she gave him a light slap against the shoulder.

She drew her pistols again and glanced around. "Alright Doc, your call. Back to your place or off the grid?" she asked him. She didn't say it, but she wanted to make things right. She made a mistake when she ignorantly took the job they offered. Now she felt the weight of her choice. If she could help him out at least, she could rest a little easier at night.

"Either way, I'm here. I'll help you as much as I can. I just don't know this planet as well." she continued, hoping to reassure him that she was still going to stick around for a while. She had a feeling he needed it

Doc Painless

 

[Doc Painless]

Even though he already knew it was Shai behind that beskar mask, the Doc still felt a strange sense of relief when she pulled off her helmet. Her real face was the one he'd chatted with in that jatz club, the one he'd swapped stories and jokes beside as they both slowly got soused. The helmet, on the other hand... that was the face of the mercenary who'd been hounding him all night, who'd made his acquaintance with a stun blast that had almost taken him the face, and who'd nearly caught him half a dozen times already. Helmets reminded him of the polished ballistic masks of CorpSec, of whom he'd never been a tremendous fan, even before they'd come for him specifically.

What she was saying, though... that was a dangerous temptation. The Doc had risked his life and liberty twice that night already - once at the Blue Flame, trying to get people out the second story before CorpSec rounded them up, and again when he'd gone back to his clinic. He had nothing to show for the latter, and the former had made sure he would never be able to show his face in Seven Corners again without getting himself arrested. Third time's the charm, he thought, a bitter smile creeping over his lips. But the charm in what way, exactly? Would it be the time something actually went right for him, or the time he failed to slip through CorpSec's fingers?

He ought to walk away, ought to stick to his plan and run straight for Smogtown without ever looking back. But what good would he be to anybody if he got there without his tools? He wasn't a Jedi; he couldn't wave his hands and watch wounds close. He needed scalpels and bandages and stitches and splints and diagnostic scanners, or he might as well give up on the whole street medic business, because the underlevels weren't going to have any of that for him. If he showed up in Smogtown as a doctor, he'd be the most useful man there, and they'd protect him. If he showed up with nothing to offer but another mouth to feed, they'd probably toss him out.

Or turn him over to CorpSec, come to think of it. The reward on his head would seem huge to Smogtowners.

I got my way of getting around bounties and authorities, Shai had said. "Maybe you can teach me sometime," the Doc replied with a sad little chuckle. "It's looking like I'm going to need that skillset." He hated to drag the mercenary any further into the mess he'd created, but she was offering, and he was pretty thoroughly farkled without her help. "And you're right: I'm not much good without my kit. That bag I had on me had enough to keep me going for a while. If we can get that somehow..." He'd hated to drop it, but in the heat of the moment his only concern had been getting out of the clinic as fast as he could, and the bulky duffel would've slowed him.

How could they possibly get back to it, though? If CorpSec suspected him of being with Darkwire, and it looked like they did, they'd pull out all the stops in their efforts to prevent his escape. They'd shut down Baker's Row, block every exit, and sweep house to house and business to business if they had to. The Doc winced as he considered all of the friends he'd made among the people of the night market here; they were going to have a very difficult day because of him, prodded and searched and quite likely arrested. Nothing for it, though. If he did get caught, they'd torture the names of all sorts of Darkwire affiliates out of him, and that was even more people getting hurt.

So they'd have to hurry, that much was certain. Their most immediate problem was the squad that had actually led the clinic raid. "How do we get past those goons you rolled in with?" he asked, meaning no offense by it - at least, not to Shai. "That flashbang will've slowed them down, but they'll be recovering by now, and they might know it was you who hit them with it." The CorpSec squad would probably be fanning out through the alleys even now, trying to keep them from doubling back. They might even have left someone at the clinic, to watch for a second attempt to return - or just to confiscate all his supplies. The thought boiled his blood.

"If you've got a plan, I'm all ears. This stuff isn't my strong suit."

Shai Maji​

 

[Shai Maji]

Shai smirked at his commentary, rather confused how such a heavily modified human being wasn’t a ruthless death machine. ”Yeah, you look like you need the help. I still don’t get how you’re this far into the cyborg craze and you’re not kitted out with weapons and gear.” she commented, not able to help herself.

Upon asking about the unit she arrived with, she waved the question off. ”They’re good but not professional soldier good. They definitely know it was me... especially if you take into account I blew a couple holes into them. They’ll bee looking for us but backup will still be on the way. As for your place, only a few guys stayed behind. If we encounter anything, we just drop ‘em. It’s not like they’ll be using stun rounds on me, anyway.” she explained as she got ready to move out.

She led the way silently through the alleys, using hand gestures to make sure she was heading in the right direction. They ran into one cop along the way, but her Nite Owl dagger made quick and quiet work of him. She grabbed the commlink off the cop and handed it to him. ”Just so we’re both on their channel.” she muttered.

When they finally got to his shop, the same guys were still guarding it and yellow holographic tape was spun around the place and doors. The APC was still parked outside but shut off with the driver looking around. ”We’re gonna need to be quick.” she whispered as she handed him one of her pistols. Whether he could use it or not, she didn’t know. But it at least gave him something to work with if needed.

With a deep breath Shai entered first and aimed at the nearest cop who noticed them. With a loud bang and yellow flash the cop was sent into a wall with a gaping hole in his chest. The next one fell too and radio chatter came to life. ”Move it, Doc! We’re running out of time.” she barked as she fired at a cop, narrowly missing as the guy recoiled back and hid behind a wall. With another shot she blew off a chunk of the wall and the guy ran back to the APC. From the terrified rambling on the radio, she was sure that he was thoroughly intimidated.

Doc Painless

 

[Doc Painless]

I still don’t get how you’re this far into the cyborg craze and you’re not kitted out with weapons and gear. The Doc smiled ruefully at Shai's words, mulling them over in his mind. "It was a mix of injury repairs and useful tools," he said, offering the mercenary a shrug. "I never wanted to hurt anybody, so weapons just... never occurred to me, I guess." Few people had ever asked how he'd come by quite so many cybernetic grafts and enhancements; it wasn't uncommon on Denon to have a handful, often just cosmetics and tools rather than prosthetics, and was even considered kind of fashionable in the right circles. As a result, few people ever asked "how" or "why".

The Doc was always vague if he was asked. He didn't like to think about the injuries that'd started him down this road.

Despite the violent beginnings of his cybernetics, however, the street medic genuinely hadn't ever thought to kit himself out with killing tools. His synthmuscles, augmented organs, and plated skin were all combat-grade, sure, but that was because they were top of the line for durability and efficient function, not because he wanted to use them to kill people. He'd been thinking of ways to pull people out of dangerous situations, or to be on his feet operating for eighteen straight hours, not of how to take down CorpSec goon squads or underlevel gangbangers. So he might have fists that could punch through duracrete, but he'd never thrown blades, blasters, or the like into the mix.

Maybe he should have... but maybe that just would've led him into a situation like one this much, much earlier.

The Doc listened closely as Shai laid out her assessment of the CorpSec troopers. She was confident she could punch through them, that much was clear. He hoped she was right that only a few of them had stayed behind at the clinic, and that they had time to go back before backup arrived; maybe the Mandalorian was good for a dozen of them, maybe two dozen, but eventually numbers were going to show, and the street medic knew he wouldn't be much help. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he nodded his assent. Then he was following her as she ducked through the alleyways, keeping to the shadows and moving fast, through the gaps in the ever-tightening CorpSec net.

The Doc didn't realize they'd run into trouble until a man was already dead. By the time he rounded the corner, catching up to Shai, the Mando mercenary was tugging her dagger out of a CorpSec grunt's throat. The street medic blanched as the corpse slid down the wall, faceless helmet turned upward, crimson dribbling out of its base and down the once-pristine chestplate. He wasn't sure he would ever get used to the casual familiarity shadowrunners had with killing. This guy would've taken him in to be tortured, sure, and would gladly have done to Shai exactly what she'd done to him if their places had been reversed... but to see his life end in seconds was jarring.

He was always trying to keep people from getting hurt, but those very efforts were increasingly getting people hurt.

Shai pressed the dead man's comlink into the Doc's hands, and he numbly accepted it, trying to tear his eyes away from the body. He managed to follow her around a few more corners, back to the doors of the clinic. The building had already been cordoned off, neon-yellow crime scene holobanners blocking the doors and windows, but true to the Mando's prediction there were only a few CorpSec troopers standing guard. We’re gonna need to be quick. Then Shai was pressing a gun into his hands, one of her twin pistols. The cold durasteel heft of the weapon was awkward and unfamiliar - did she expect him to know how to use it? He got the principle, sure, but in practice...

"Okay," he whispered nervously, looking up at her. "What's the plan for getting insi-"

That was as far as the Doc got, because while he'd been forcing down panic, Shai had been on the move. His question was cut off by the whine of a blaster as she blew a hole in the nearest guard, ending him with a shot through the heart - and lungs, and stomach. It was evidently a pretty powerful gun. The next one didn't get even a second to react before he went down too, another neat, smoking hole blown through him. So much for their armor; it might defend them against the improvised zip-guns of underlevel miscreants, but not from a Mandalorian's favored blaster. Two men dead in the space of a heartbeat; the Doc was sure he could never match that cold efficiency.

Move it, Doc! We’re running out of time. The shout forced him out of reverie and into motion, sprinting toward the clinic. A third guard ran for the APC, shots streaking past him as he hurried to call it in. That wasn't good; the patrols would turn back, and reinforcements would speed up, in an effort to once again catch them right at the scene of the crime. They had to get what they'd come for and go, or they'd accomplish nothing except getting Shai killed - or arrested and then executed, which wasn't much different in practical terms. The Doc burst through the front doors of the clinic, the same way the squad sent to arrest him had come... and barreled right into one of them.

He wasn't sure if the guy was an investigator, searching the place for illegal goods and traces of where he might hide, or just another goon watching the interior in case he came back. He never found out because, as he crashed head-on into the man, he panicked... and he pulled the trigger of the gun Shai had given him. For an instant, the dark-armored CorpSec officer went rigid. The tang of ozone and molten plastic filled the air. Then he went limp, falling forward onto his killer, his helmet drooping onto the Doc's shoulder like a slow-dance partner resting her head. The street medic shoved the body off, and it hit the ground with a clatter-clack of armor against floor tiles.

It did not move. Smoke curled up from a hole in its midsection. Oh, Force. Oh, feth. I just... I just fething killed someone.

The Doc clutched the blaster in his durasteel fist, staring at the weapon in horror. First, do no harm. He staggered over to a potted plant - fake, of course, there was no sunlight in his backroom clinic - and threw up, emptying the contents of his stomach over the little ornamental pebbles surrounding the plastiform stalk. First, do no harm. He'd killed someone, killed them just to save his own sorry skin. This wasn't the person he was supposed to be. This wasn't the life he was supposed to live. Everything was spiraling out of control. "I'm sorry," the Doc whispered, knowing he was babbling, unable to bring himself to care. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." This wasn't him. Was it?

Outside, sirens screamed closer. The Doc forced himself to turn away, to scramble toward the bag of tools...

Shai Maji​

 

[Shai Maji]

A shot went off and in the corner of her eye Shai could see the Soc still standing... and then losing his edge completely. She fired a few more rounds at the doorway to keep the goons at bay as she moved over to the Doc.

He got to his bag and Shai didn’t waste a second with him. She grabbed the weapon and holstered it before she gave him a shove to the exit, making sure he had his bag with him. ”Come on, Doc. Keep it together, just a few minutes longer.” she muttered to him as she kept a hand on his shoulder. Sirens became clearer as they got outside and they became progressively louder. They were out of time.

She knew that they would be surrounded. She knew that running wasn’t an option given the Doc’s mental situation. It wasn’t a bash on him, she knew exactly how he was feeling. But right now it wasn’t ideal for the situation. So she did the next best thing. She wrapped her arms around him and activated her jetpack. In an instant they shot up and Shai steered them far away from the scene, staying close to the rooftops to keep their profile low just in case someone was smart enough to look up.

Only when they were far away and by her ship, did Shai slow and descend. She carefully let go of him but kept her hands on his shoulders. ”Doc, hey. Look at me.” she spoke as she yanked her helmet off to face him properly. ”Just a few steps more. I know what you’re feeling, trust me. But keep it together until we’re inside. We can talk once we’re out of sight.” She was determined as she spoke. It was a horrible feeling what he was experiencing now.

Not wasting any time she ushered him into her ship. She led him to the mess room and set him down on her couch. With trained efficiency she made them both a mug of hot chocolate and set it on the table in front of him. ”Drink up. I’m gonna get out of this suit, I’ll be back in a sec.” she spoke softly before disappearing into her room.

Doc Painless

 

[Doc Painless]

The Doc could feel himself coming apart. The world was swimming around him as he staggered forward, as unsteady on his feet as a drunkard. He reached out, trying to steady himself on a rack of instruments, but only managed to knock it over with his shaking hands. What was this place doing to him? What had Denon led him to become? He flashed back on each step down the road that had taken him to this point: setting a dead or alive bounty on the Durasteel Demons, sanctioning lethal force; brawling with the Corpo sympathizers on Enterprise Day, breaking bones with his own hands for the first time; personally helping with the plot to assassinate Xopsaloff.

Now he'd killed someone, pulled a trigger and ended a life. Was that just another step on his path to something worse?

He stumbled and fell to his knees in front of his duffel bag; the tools inside it seemed less important now that he'd killed to get them. Why had he come back for these? Had his ego been so great that he couldn't accept not being important, not being the well-known Doc in whatever hole he crawled into to hide? Reeling from the consequences of one violent decision, he'd blundered right into another. He tried to scoop up the strap of the duffel, but his limbs felt weak, and his stomach was still heaving - if it hadn't already emptied itself, he would have thrown up again. Instead he dry heaved, sprawled on all fours on the clinic floor while the CorpSec sirens closed in.

He never would have made it out of there on his own, and he was ready to accept that fate... but Shai wasn't.

Come on, Doc. Keep it together, just a few minutes longer. The voice seemed to come from far away. Why should he bother? Maybe he deserved whatever he got now. But again, the mercenary had a will stronger than his despair. She took his pistol and shoved his bag into his arms, then hauled him toward the exit. He stumbled along numbly, letting her lead him by the arm, barely registering what was going on. They cleared the door... and stared down the arriving CorpSec vehicles. Too late. It was all too late. The Doc closed his eyes, almost relieved that it was coming to an end. His only regret was that he'd dragged Shai down with him. She deserved better.

And then, all at once, a strong grip wrapped around him... and his feet left the duracrete pavement.

It took him a good thirty seconds to realize what was happening. Apparently Shai's jetpack was rated for two and a cargo bag, because she had managed to scoop him up and blast off into the skies. Despite his grief and distraction, the Doc found himself mesmerized by the view. He had walked the streets of Baker's Row countless times, and knew every street, alley, and maintenance catwalk like the back of his mechanical hand, but this was different. It was strangely beautiful to see it all from above, to watch the flashing lights of the CorpSec vehicles fade away in the tangle of businesses and residential blocks as they soared over the night market and beyond.

They jetted low over the rooftops, narrowly evading the clotheslines, neon advertisements, and heating / cooling units that rushed past. The wind was cold on the Doc's face, ruffling his hair, making him look nearly as messy as he felt. All he could do was clutch onto his bag for dear life; if he lost it now, he was giving up his only chance to try to make up for what he'd done, to make Denon better rather than continuing to make things worse. He was distantly impressed that Shai had managed to hold onto him this long. He wasn't a big man, but he wasn't a small one, either, and his bag was stuffed with enough supplies that he could feel the strain in his synthmuscles.

The Mandalorian mercenary was damn strong... and not just physically, either. She was handling this well.

The frantic jetpack flight slowed, and the two of them touched down on a landing pad. Shai tugged off her helmet and looking him in the eyes, talking to him gently, but with a clear sense of urgency. He barely registered the words, but nodded all the same, and managed to stay steady enough on his feet to follow her into the ship. He found himself zoning out, his eyes open but unseeing as his thoughts reeled off in painful and chaotic directions, until his butt hit the sofa and he came back to himself. The merc put a mug in front of him, and he fumbled for it instantly, grabbing it and taking a long pull. That was a mistake. He choked on the steaming liquid, burning his tongue.

Hot chocolate, not liquor. It was good, he had to admit... but feth him, he needed a drink. He was too sober to cope.

Shai was gone, apparently changing out of her armor. What was the plan from here? To fly out of this place? She'd probably take him off Denon if he asked her to, let him flee the planet where he was wanted as a terrorist - and now, a murderer. He could lay low on Wann Tsir, figure out what to do from there. It wouldn't be so different from what had happened in the last place he'd fled, the place he'd come to Denon to get away from... but he hadn't actually hurt anyone there, not like this. What was his life becoming? A cycle of increasingly grievous mistakes, followed by running away to start over? The thought made him feel small and cowardly. He took a more careful sip.

"Why are you doing all this for me?" he wondered aloud, in the direction Shai had gone. What had changed her mind?

Shai Maji​

 

[Shai Maji]

Shai was gone for a good long while, the muffled sounds of armour clattering for a bit behind the door of the main quarters of the Wrangler freighter. Eventually she emerged, dressed in a simple tank top and shorts and her mane looking like an explosion in a mattress factory. She was rubbing at the shoulder of her cybernetic arm as she took a seat next to him, her crimson eyes affixed on him with concern. "You look like you need a drink." she commented with a small smile. Getting up, she got a shot glass for the both of them along with a bottle of whiskey from her cupboard.

"I know what you're feeling. Taking another's life. For people like you and me, people who care, it's something that hangs on you for a while. Force knows I still see some faces when my head hits the pillow." she spoke softly as she poured them both a shot. "So if you need to talk, I'm all ears. I don't wanna see someone going through the same motions that I went through." She held up a glass to him then threw it down her throat with a simple motion. "But what I'll tell you now is that it wasn't murder. It wasn't in cold blood and it wasn't for no reason. I saw what they did to some of the people we caught in that bar. And with everything going on, odds of them torturing you and putting a hole in the back of my head were very big." she continued softly, her cybernetic hand resting on his shoulder as she stared deeply into his eyes.

Her gaze shifted to her had, however, when it lightly started to twitch and shift in grip. "Karking hell, not again." she grumbled as she unlatched her arm from the socket and studied the connectors. "Don't suppose you know anything about cybernetics, huh? This arm keeps messing around every now and then. I had it fixed up the other day but it's been twitching and losing power randomly for no reason." she asked him with a guilty smile. It was a horrible time to ask him for help now, but it was getting on her nerves... literally and figuratively. "I think the shoulder socket is also getting faulty. Been feeling a slight burning sensation ever since the bar raid. I think that bird dude's attacks messed something up in there." she continued, tapping on the metal socket.

Doc Painless

 

[Doc Painless]

It was strange to see Shai without her armor again, in even more casual garb than the first time he'd met her. Even though he'd known it was her beneath the beskar, the Doc had still felt a strange division between Shai the mercenary and Shai the drinking buddy. One had been charming, funny, and laid-back, new to town and looking for advice; the other was at home under fire, shot people without a second thought, and could carry him across the rooftops of Seven Corners like a piece of dangling luggage without apparent effort. The Doc had met a lot of people in his time on Denon and beyond, and he knew each individual could contain multitudes, but it was still somehow jarring.

He couldn't imagine himself shifting so easily from friendly and open to cold and calculating. Maybe he'd have to learn.

Shai sat beside him for a pep talk, and he did his best to say open and receptive - even as he felt his mind shutting down, throwing up walls in a desperate attempt to compartmentalize. He managed to make himself wait to throw back the shot of whiskey until Shai did, following suit immediately. The alcohol burned the whole way down, and the Doc was so pathetically grateful for the feeling that he felt tears gathering in his artificial eyes. Just the promise of booze, of the numbness and scattering of thoughts that it would bring him, was enough to give him some small amount of hope. He would be able to lose himself in the whiskey, run from his self-loathing as he always had before.

He reached for the bottle, not caring how it looked or what she thought, and poured himself another shot.

Shai was telling him that he'd had to do what he'd done, that the man he'd killed would have taken him away for torture and execution. That second part, at least, was true. It was why he'd run. But the Doc couldn't accept the first. If he'd meant to kill that trooper, if he'd made the decision to pull the trigger to preserve his own liberty and the safety of his friends, maybe he could've lived with it. But the whole thing had been an awful accident, a bumbling mistake born of clumsy panic. There had been no decision, just muscles seizing out of fear. Sure, the end result was the same, but the Doc hadn't actually made the call. It'd been incompetence with a gun, not reasoned calculation.

How could he live with that? He hadn't even tried to look for a better solution, because he hadn't decided at all.

"Don't suppose you know anything about cybernetics, huh?" The words pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he snapped back to reality. It was the kind of request he heard over and over... but he never got tired of it. Because cybernetics and medicine were the things he was genuinely good at, and because he felt useful when he worked with them, like he was finally worth something. The Doc listened carefully as Shai described the problem, nodding now, clearly alert to every word. It might have felt like the wrong time to ask to Shai, but to him, it was the perfect distraction, the only thing that could possibly have torn his reeling mind away from its plunge into free-fall.

"Sounds like a faulty servomotor," the street medic finally said, blinking hard to clear his eyes and shaking out his arms. "Probably a broken neural interface, too. He must've hit you hard." What had become of Anakin after the fight at the bar? Having seen the kid in action often - more than he'd like, honestly, given the savagery and terrifying power on display - he doubted that much of anything could bring him down, but there was always that chance. The Doc was in no position to help, though, so he didn't ask. Instead he focused on the task in front of him. Reaching down, he unzipped the duffel bag he'd gone through so much to save, pulling out a set of tools and medscanners.

He went over the arm and socket with the scanners first, finding the problem. There was definite battle damage... and whoever had fixed it before had done a shoddy job, bypassing damaged components rather than actually fixing or replacing the servomotor. No wonder it was jerky and prone to power failure. The Doc was suddenly grateful that the arm hadn't given out while it'd been wrapped around him, a hundred feet above the streets of Seven Corners. Putting down the scanner, he picked up his tools, dainty little things capable of reaching deep into the tiny gears and thick nests of wiring. This was flow time for him, the moments when he felt most at peace. It was what he was meant to do.

"So how did you learn to... cope?" he finally asked, gently tugging a bit of shrapnel out of a servo.

Shai Maji​

 

[Shai Maji]

Shai's worries disappeared as he got to work on her arm. It seemed that it was just the thing to take his mind off his predicament. She helped herself to another shot while he scanned over her arm and socket. His question drew her attention, earning a curious hum from her. "Learn to cope?" she repeated softly as she stared at nothing in particular. "It all depends on who I'm dealing with." she admitted as she pulled a leg up and rested her chin on her knee.

"With stuff like today... I tell myself that it's either me or them. They would have done the same to me so I don't mind beating them to the punch. Sith troopers are also easy. The sith and their Mando lackeys murdered my clan, so I don't feel any remorse for them when I dome on of 'em and leave 'em in a pile in an unmarked grave." Her voice grew more harsh as she spoke. She glanced at him for a moment then looked away. "But there are some faces that I can't justify, no matter what. A crew I ran with, all dead because a Sith Lord made me end them. A gang on Nar Shaddaa, all 'cause I was greedy. That bird friend of yours... I might not have killed him but I was the one who caught him." she admitted, riddled with guilt towards the end. She looked to the Doc. "I only realized on which side I'm on after that whole raid. But it's too late. Just like those innocent lives I took. Unless you're a heartless wreck, there's nothing you can do about those innocent lives except to see them in your dreams every night." she stated with a slight shake of her head.

"That's how I cope, Doc. I don't. I just make sure I kill more bad people than good people and tell myself it's fine because they would do the same to me." She gave a sniff and looked away as she left him to fiddle with her arm. She winced slightly when he fiddled with the shoulder socket but other than that she didn't move at all.

Doc Painless

 

[Doc Painless]

Once you opened them up, organics and machines weren't so different. The Doc didn't mean that in a creepy, serial killer kind of way, devaluing the lives of sentient beings; he only meant that the basic operating principles were the same. Movement required energy, whether it came from a power cell directing electricity through wiring or the heart pumping oxygenated, nutrient-laden blood through veins. It also required direction, whether from the brain and through the nerves or from a computer chip and through approximations of nerves. Every machine that had ever been built relied on principles that could be found in living bodies, and this was even more obvious when it came to cybernetics, literal replacements for organic parts.

Working on Shai's mechanical arm, the Doc went through procedures that were only marginally different from what he would've done if he'd been performing surgery on her organic one. He checked the joint, that versatile ball and socket that allowed the shoulder full range of motion... but it was powered by servos, not organic muscle. He soothed the connectors of the neural interface almost as if they were enflamed nerve tissue. He examined the integrity of the drive shaft running from shoulder to elbow almost as if it were her real, organic humerus. The big difference, of course, was that he didn't have to deal with administering anesthetic or suctioning blood or recommending bed rest.

Cybernetics didn't heal on their own like organic bodies did, but they took much less of a toll on the patient when getting fixed.

The buzz of the alcohol - he'd only gotten one shot down the hatch, well under the threshold of his overdeveloped tolerance - burned away as the Doc worked, so his practiced fingers were still nimble, his mind still sharp. He'd like to say he'd never operated impaired, but that wouldn't have been entirely accurate, so it was good that Shai had brought this up early, before his little booze problem had gotten out of hand for the night. The good news was that, when he was in the zone like this, he didn't need the buzz to cope... or at least didn't need it as much. He became detached from reality, focused in on the moment, fully lucid and fully rational; no one wants an emotional surgeon, after all.

He was still listening, though, turning over and over what Shai said and trying to apply it to his own mess of a life.

The Doc tensed when Shai revealed that she'd caught Anakin. That was a piece of ill news indeed, and on a day when he couldn't stomach much more. He'd never been close with the kid, but they had been on the same side through thick and thin... and the ex-slave was much deeper into Darkwire than the Doc was. He was strong, sure, but the Doc knew torture, knew the ways regimes like the CAD and the Sith had of making people talk. No one held out against those methods forever. No one. And the damage that would be done if Anakin was forced to name names, the domino effect as more and more people were rounded up based on that information and tortured in turn...

They'd expected pushback from the CAD after Xopsaloff, but had any of them been ready for the full extent of it?

There was no use condemning Shai for that now, though. She'd seen the truth and changed sides a little too late to prevent that particular disaster, but on that front the Doc was in no position to judge, given the sequence of events that had brought him to Denon. "So it doesn't get easier, then," he said flatly, offering the mandalorian a rueful half-smile. "See, I know better than most that decent people get stuck doing bad things. I'm always going to wonder if that guy that I... that I killed was there because he wanted to be, or because he had to be. If he was a protester-beating, activist-torturing sadist, the galaxy's better off without him. But I don't know that."

He shook his head. "Sometimes people end up in those uniforms because they're trying to make the galaxy better, even if they're going about it wrong. They have families to support, and can't be picky where the credits come from. Or they fear chaos, and want to uphold what they see as the legitimate government. If that's who he was, or even who he might have been, then he could've been me just a few years ago, doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. And if that's true, I should've found another way. I should've been more careful. I should've..." He trailed off, surprised at himself. He never talked about what he'd done before Denon.

Lapsing back into focused silence, the Doc lifted Shai's repaired arm back into the socket, engaging the connector servos.

Shai Maji​

 

[Shai Maji]

The Doc opened up to Shai and she listened to what he had to say. He was doing the same thing she had a tendency to do, pouring over hypotheticals while guilt swallowed him up. His feint mention of his past drew her curiosity but she didn’t interrupt. There was an awkward silence as he finished up with her arm and slotted it back into the socket. ”If it makes you feel any better, before we rolled out... I overheard the dude talking to his buddies about his wife filing for divorce. Apparently he was caught sleeping with her best friend.” she spoke softly, giving him a small smile.

When he was done, she rolled her shoulder and moved her arm around. ”Thanks, Doc. Creds are a little tight, but I’ll pay you once I get some cash in again.” she thanked him. Sitting back, she poured them both a shot and drank it. She leaned back with a sigh as she stared at the bottle in front of them.

”Were you always on Denon or did you end up here from somewhere else?” she asked him as she glanced over to him.

Doc Painless

 

[Doc Painless]

The work was done, and the heaviness descended again, the weight of all his mistakes - particularly the most recent one, the most severe. This was why the Doc spent basically all his time working, and why he drank himself into oblivion when he was between procedures. He couldn't handle having time to think, couldn't stand being alone with his thoughts... and he felt alone, locked in the grim confines of his own head, even when surrounded by a crowd. Part of him wished he hadn't finished up Shai's arm so fast, though there was no practical way he could've taken longer. Now he was back to reality, and there was no telling if and when he'd be able to get back to work.

Despite himself, the Doc snorted at what Shai had said about the guard. "Pretty chitty of him," the street medic agreed, "though I don't think adultery carries the death penalty on Denon. They'd have to wipe out too many execs." He immediately felt bad for laughing, and worse for joking back... so he was glad when Shai mentioned paying him back. He waved a hand idly, dismissing the whole idea. "I'm pretty sure I still owe you for... for what went down today. I'd be on the run on my own at best, and more likely captured. Or dead." But I wouldn't have killed anyone. The thought sprung into his head, and he forced it down. It wasn't helpful, or fair to Shai.

He knocked back the shot the mandalorian had poured, offering her a nod of thanks. The whiskey helped.

The question caught him off guard, and he nearly choked as the shot went down. The Doc had often been asked about his past, and he'd always gently redirected the askers... or flatly shut them down, if they got too insistent. There were a dozen rumors and more about where he'd come from, most of them ridiculous. Shai wouldn't have heard any of them, though; she was still pretty new to Denon, or so she'd said when they were drinking at that jatz club. It wasn't like she was coming looking for him; she couldn't be. No one had ever tracked him down from back then. He wore a different face now, and he'd thrown away his old name when he left. He was close to untraceable.

The Doc blew out a long, slow breath. Shai was just making conversation, like many had before, and he was overreacting.

"Not a local," he finally admitted, offering the mercenary a scattered smile. "I rolled in a few years back, looking for a change, I guess." That was all true; it was easier to stick to the truth, just not the whole of it. "It's funny. You become one among hundreds of billions, and you think you'll lose yourself, stop caring so much, just live your life. But this place has a way of making you care, even when you don't want to." The Doc hadn't set out to be a revolutionary. He hadn't set out to do anything but a little bit of good. And to vanish, of course. But it'd quickly become obvious that the little bit of good he could do wasn't going to matter if big things didn't start to change.

He ought to follow up, keep easy conversation flowing, ask Shai where she was from and what had brought her here. He ought to, but he didn't, because he was stressed and terrified and worried that it would lead her to ask more about him. Instead he said "What do we do now?" Because he wasn't at all sure. He was on the run, his face plastered across the planet, and she was likely to end up in the same boat as soon as they finished IDing her. He wondered if she'd taken some kind of precautions against that, something he hadn't been clever enough to think of in advance. "They'll be looking for us. You said you had experience dealing with... stuff like this."

Shai Maji​

 

[Shai Maji]

The Doc's words earned a smirk from Shai. She couldn't argue with what he said. It wasn't an excuse to kill someone, but at least it got a chuckle out of him which was a win for her. He dismissed her offer of credits and Shai was thankful for that. Between being stingy and needing to stay alive, she took whatever opportunity she could to not splash creds.

He went on to explain that he wasn't a local... and gave her his own insight on the planet. "True story. Good thing too, otherwise tonight might have played out very differently." she quipped. Then came the important question. What next? Shai sighed and tilted her head back against the couch. "We got a few options. They'll likely come knocking very soon. We can fly off for a bit which is likely the smartest option. We can also stay on the planet and lay low for a while. I could also kick you out and fly off to save my own skin but that's just rude..." she suggested calmly, flashing him a sidelong smirk at the end.

She gave him a gentle shove as she chuckled before leaning over to rest against him. "At this point that's the options I can see right now. Either we kark off or we lay low planetside. Either way, I gotta teach you how to defend yourself. 'Cause seriously, for a guy with your hardware, you're a real big pushover." she quipped, pouring them both another shot. Without wasting a second she downed it and settled back against the Doc. "So Doc, what's it gonna be?" she asked him.

Doc Painless

 

[Doc Painless]

He could leave. Just like Shai said, the Doc could turn tail and run, burn space until Denon was nothing but a set of coordinates halfway across the galaxy and no one from the CAD would ever find him again. It wouldn't be the first time he'd pulled something like that. He could reinvent himself again, get himself a new name and a new face. There were plenty of frontier planets that wouldn't question the background of an experienced medical professional too much; they'd be too grateful just to have one. With the galaxy in constant upheaval, empires rising and falling as whole worlds were blown apart, who would have time to look for little old him? Who would even care?

It was the smart thing to do. The mercenary had even said as much. He should get out while he had the chance.

But if the Doc left now, had it all been for nothing? Had all the times he'd crossed his own moral lines to try to do the greater right thing, to make his little corner of known space a little better and a less oppressive, just led to him making a break for it? What would be racing through his head the whole time he was out there, at the ass-end of the galaxy, trying to drink away his memories of a whole new set of failures? He could hardly bear what he was already living with, the people he'd given up on. If he did it again, if he started over yet another time, it would destroy him. He would've given up everything that made him who he was and accomplished nothing. At that point he might as well die.

"I can't leave," he said quietly, as much to himself as to Shai. "Not like this. Everything I've been through, everything I've done... I have to stay and make it matter, or I'll lose my fething mind." He looked up at her, and though his replacement eyes no longer showed emotion, there was determination written in the haggard lines of his face. "And you're right. I've been a pushover. I haven't been ready to go all in, and I've paid the price for that." He reached out to snag the shot she'd poured, raised it to her in a little salute of thanks, and knocked it back. The liquid courage was taking effect now, making him think and say things he'd probably regret bitterly in a few hours.

But feth it. In for a credit, in for a trade bar. He had nothing but his life left to lose.

"I can't ask any more of you when you've already pulled my ass out of the fire tonight," he continued. "I hope you don't pay too steep a price for that. But if you still want to help, I'll take it." He wasn't remotely sure what that was going to mean; surely learning to fight took months, and learning to fight like Shai probably took years. But if he was going to do this thing, to hide out in Denon's underlevels and keep struggling until the CAD was gone and the planet was free, he needed more than just a steady scalpel hand and some combat-grade cybernetics he'd never really put to the test. And if Shai was willing to help him get what he needed, he'd be a fool to say no.

Shai Maji​

 

[Shai Maji]

There was a long silence as Shai waited for an answer. She had an idea of what was going through his mind. He was weighing his options, trying to figure out what he should listen to. His brain or his heart. She was starting to see a lot of similarities between herself and the Doc... herself from a year or two ago, to be more specific. She was just like him. She hated taking lives, she hated combat, she hated violence and she relied on a bluff and choice words to win over situations instead of blowing a hole through someone. It reminded her of just how far she had fallen. How much she changed ever since she became a Mandalorian... and then watched as her village burned to the ground. It was a miracle that she could look at herself in the mirror every day after everything she did.

His answer finally came and she snapped out of her trance.

He asked for her help and she gave a small nod. "I can help, yeah. Hand to hand will take a while, but I can show you how to use a gun properly. I know you don't want to kill, trust me when I tell you I know that feeling. But that's what the stun setting is for. And when you're in that position again where you have to decide whether it's you or the other guy... well, at least you will know how a blaster works then." she spoke softly, rising from her seat. "Alright. If we're staying, we're gonna need to move the ship. They'll be looking for it soon enough. Come on." She gestured for him to follow as she led the way down the ladder to the cockpit.

The ship came to life and she lifted it into the air. She opened the map of the planet and glanced at him. "Where are we going, Doc? And more importantly, where can I land my ship where it won't get swarmed by a unit of CorpSec dudes?" she asked him as she drifted the ship around a little, waiting for an answer from him.

Doc Painless