Dark Side of Smuggler's Moon: Sector N-00P4Y

[Eryn]

Nar Shaddaa – Holbek District​

Sector N-00P4Y​

Section 921, Deck 4​

Shipping Dock 76​

The official name for the northern arrival ports in the Holbek District was 'Sector N-00P4Y', but most people who intimately knew the 'Smuggler's Moon' fondly called it 'Sector No Pay', one of only a handful of docks that wasn't controlled, taxed, or serviced by any gang, corporation, or Hutt empire. It was a particularly grimy, rusty collection of landing platforms and docking bays, sitting in the shadows of the towering, abandoned Holbek Company buildings, and despite the free pass on all docking fees, it didn't see much activity. Lacking the basics of a usual spaceport (cleaning and service crews and droids, any kind of citywork personnel and credit-funded infrastructure) for many, many years had done quite a number on the place, as the corrosive air of Nar Shaddaa does when it's affects aren't kept in check, and landing anything heavier than a flock of malnourished mynocks on any of the rickety platforms was always a gamble. For those with a brain, credits to spare and a desire to keep living, it was just too dangerous. But for most down-on-their-luck space pirates, the risk came with too many benefits not to take advantage of the area. Low traffic, no security presence or corporate eyes to dodge, direct access to a thriving black market just down the road and, best of all, no bloated docking fees. Anywhere. None.

…Of course, this also made 'Sector No Pay' something of a hotspot for the worst kinds of scum.
And THAT made it a deathtrap for anyone not on top of their game.

Today, dazed and confused as she high-speed scrambled from Dock 76, that category included Eryn. It didn't happen often (or so she liked to tell herself), this kind of thing. Usually, she was a tad more..careful when picking her next free ride. Stowing away was an art form, you had to do your research. Can't just pick one at random and hope for the best, especially in the rough, grime-stained bowels of Coruscant.
Or..well, you could, but you'd end up dead, or worse.
In her defense, she'd been in a minor hurry, and with a Force sensitive hunter and his keen Anooba on your rear, you didn't stop to shop the docks for a safe fit.
At that point, anything is better than capture.

Blood snaked down the left side of her face, the gash where one of the crew had struck her on the head throbbing. Great. Blood on your face meant weakness. Not a good way to start the journey. Hastily, the fugitive ran the sleeve of her jacket over it, blending the blood into her hair as she sprinted away from the chorus of angry voices and heavy footsteps following her down the empty causeway of the main spaceport, making straight for the more populated intersections of Darkroad, the 'heart' of the activity just outside of 'No Pay'. (And no, Darkroad was not actually very dark, but the walkways, streets and walls of the buildings had been stained black by the Holbek Company industrial pollution and constant hauling of coal, and some idiot with no imagination saw it and called it 'darkroad', and it stuck, and thus ends the mini origin story of Darkroad. Moving right along.) She'd only been here twice, each time a worse experience than before, and had she known this was the destination of 'The Nyxelar', she actually might have preferred the jaws of the Anooba, but there was ONE place here that might offer her some refuge.

The Red Shift cantina.

Run by a six-foot-eight slab of muscled ex con named Vexx with a body count as tall as a skyscraper and no patience for trouble, the place was nothing extraordinary. Just as filthy and rundown as the rest of the bars spread down the street, the 'F' in the bright neon sign over the door had burned out three years ago, and based on the quality of some of the drinks and menu items for sale inside, The Red Shi_t was exactly what you'd end up with after a round or three of ale and nerfburgers. But Eryn wasn't hungry (for once).
Twice now, she'd avoided trouble hiding out under Vexx's protection, and he was about as close to a trusted friend as she'd had in a very long time, despite only ever meeting the man those two times. Long story. Very interesting. But that's for later.
Hopefully, he'd lend her a hand again, IF she could get there in time.

Damn, she was doing a lot of 'hoping' this week…

The road grew less crowded. Her vision swam as the cantina came into view, but only a little. Blurry eyes she could deal with. But when the world started tipping like some kind of trippy carnival ride, Eryn paused, eyes closed, gripping the sticky black wall as she doubled over a little, swerving. It didn't pass. She moved her feet anyway. Had to keep going. Almost there. Boots beating duracrete behind her. Pretty close. Bad.

Seven seconds later, she was tripping over a body propped up in the alley opposite the Red Shi_t. She lunged back up. Three second delay. No problem. We're moving again.
But it was all the crew of 'The Nyxelar' needed to close the distance.

Pannis Jhun, Captain's right hand man, made the first grab. "Oh, I don't think so, girlie." A meaty hand grabbed at her hair, yanking her back as another gripped her arm. Pain shot through her neck. "Think you can skip out with a free ride, hmm? Hey, Leith, Skebs!" he chortled as his two companions caught up with him, circling in front of her. "This one thinks she can get aw—AAAGGH!! KARK!"

Adrenaline was a mighty thing. With a sharp twist of her ankle, Eryn activated the blade in the heel of her boot as her world righted itself once more, jamming it into the inside of his shin with a small kick back. His grip on her loosened and she tore herself away, swiping the blade on her right forearm from its sheath and slashing at the men in front of her as she lunged forward. They jumped back, giving her just enough space to dart between them as she caught Skebs on the shoulder with the end of the blade. She was running before the blood had appeared. Dumb. So dumb. Should have stayed and finished them off, used the rest of her element of surprised, because no sooner had she taken five steps and her concussion kicked in once more.

Leith tackled her to the ground from behind before she had a chance to really be dizzy.

It took him a minute to relieve her of her weapon, but with a boot to her stomach from Skebs, he pried the knife from her and flung it into the street. A few people were watching at the corner, interest at half mast. Nothing out of the ordinary on Nar Shaddaa. She didn't bother calling for help. No one would give it, not here. Screw 'em. She didn't need it, anyway. She'd handle this like she always did. Alone. …Somehow.

Hissing, spitting, and bucking like a wild animal underneath him, Eryn tried, she really did. But by the second boot to the stomach, she was losing steam.

Pannis, red with rage and still swearing as he limped over, gestured to his crewmates. "Get her up, c'mon, now," he growled, spitting at her face from above. "Cap'n wants her back. Hope he makes an example. This is the fourth spot o' creepin' stowaway filth we've found this month-… oh for shiet's sake, just knock her out!!" he yelled as she bit Skebs. "And this time, do it right, you kriffed up last time and that's why we're in this position."

| [member=Marcus Lok]|

 

[Marcus Lok]

It was days like these that made Marcus question why he had ever left the corporate world behind. The pay might not be as good, but at least people showed up to work everyday. He'd been stuck there in the Red Shift Cantina for about three hours with nothing to show for it. The contact hadn't arrived and he would go home with his hands empty and another liar to cross off of his "Trusted Men" list. To make matters worse, he'd been drinking. It had started as a glass from the strong urging of a huge man who hadn't mentioned his name, only that if he didn't buy something he'd be served to the street as a main course. By this point, that would have been fine with him. He blinked and, like a newborn, tried to clear his vision of the fuzzy outlines that surrounded the patrons who began to look tired of his company.

He had to go.

Standing slowly, he made a grab for a booth to steady himself, finding only the slimy exterior of some green being. The thing shouted at him, pounding his ears like they were bongos before thrusting him away into the middle of the cantina and finally out the door. He wasn't dead smashed, but he sure wasn't right in the mind. All around him people walked by, jeering and pushing him out of the way like he was a tourist. He might as well have been, he'd only been down here... Well.. This was honestly the first time he'd ever made the trip. As many times as he'd call himself a local of the vertical city, it always seemed to venture on into new pits of scum and crime that he'd be forced to explore later on. Now which way was home... Had he come down the Term. 36 Lift? There must be a sign aro-...

-"Watch it, laserbrain!"

He watched a sprinting girl pass him with conviction, as if something were chasing her, but in his stupor he hardly had the sense to put two and two together and move out of the way. The first crewman hit him like a truck, knocking him onto his stomach without a second thought. He tasted the grit of the duracrete and struggled onto his hands to get a better view of the thugs who were clad in orange. They had the girl now, beating her to a pulp in front of everyone on the street. She didn't call out, and that was a bit confusing. It would be a bit worthless out here though, everyone was either cheering for the girl to get her head torn off or walking along to get away from the scene that had momentarily disrupted their completely legitimate commutes. But not he. He wouldn't stand for it. Oh no, the warm courage given by whatever he'd been drinking in that seedy bar had let him know well in advance that whoever had pushed him to the ground would be getting a bolt in their back before he was ready to head off.

He drew one of his blasters, taking not-so-careful aim at the back of one of the orange jumpsuits. The sights gave him a headache, coming in and out of focus with the target. His hands felt clammy against the sturdy plasteel of the grip. With hate in his heart and a vengeful mind he shouted towards the men that had since taken the girl down in brutal fashion.

"Kark you!"

He pulled the trigger and watched as the bright blue bolt flew wide of his target and struck one of the other crew members in the shoulder. Not his best shot, admittedly, but the numbers would get them. He fired another, and another, but each shot seemed to dance away from where he'd intended it to fly. Before he knew it, they were on him. His vision flashed to black as a boot impacted his forehead. He could feel a warm, snaking trail of blood come down his face. Then, as if thrust into the vacuum, he felt his lungs evacuate with another swift kick. Stabs of pain ran across every inch of his body as the crewmen went about beating his battered form, finding some level of satisfaction in being able to take out their rage on someone other than the girl who needed to be in some workable condition for their boss. Each second seemed to usher in a new flurry of kicks and punches until he went numb.

Eventually the crowd would leave and the thugs would take away their prizes, content with the fact that they'd both gotten the wild animal and the fool who shot liked a Tusken. In a strange turn of events for the lower levels of Nar Shaddaa, no one had been killed in the exchange, a fact that left many of the onlookers dismayed. It was the only real way they got their kicks down here.

[member="Eryn"]

 

[Eryn]

Coming to with a double concussion and a bruised rib or two sucks.
Coming to with a double concussion and bruised ribs while you're hanging from a chain by your wrists suspended four feet in the air inside an airlock was definitely worse, though.

The painless bliss of unconsciousness was ripped away even before Eryn opened her eyes. Or tried to. Blood had made her lids sticky, heavy, although it was currently the only place on her body that didn't radiate extreme pain. She welcomed the anguish, though, was even grateful for it. Where pain would shut others down, it woke her up, gave her focus, kept her alert. (Most of the time, at least.) It reminded her she was still alive.

Teal eyes flickered to life, blinking sluggishly. Was hot, stuffy, no air movement. Too bright to look around yet, though. Kriff, her neck hurt. Jacket was gone. Tank top torn. She caught sight of her feet, bare, blistered, her boots gone. Kark. Why? She tried to remember… black pavement, running, neon lights, hands in her hair, blood in her mouth… Oh. Darkroad. That ship. That crew. She'd heeled one in the shins with her springblade, that's right. Smart to take her boots, then. Especially since… Eryn squinted at the floor. It was farther away than it should be. Must be the concussion messing with her perception. She tried wiggling her feet, but they were too numb. That's weird. Other places were numb, too. Like her wrists. That didn't make sense. She raised her head with effort, KARK that hurt, screwed her eyes up at her hands bound together with thin chain. Oh. Made more sense now. Hanging from the ceiling. Okay, sure. That was a problem. No time to hang around. She had things to do. Like get off fethin' Coruscant before that damn hunter and his Anooba caught up with her and she ended up— …No, wait, what?

Ohh, wait. Waiiiit…

"Kriff."

Getting hit in the brain by your own reality was somehow a hell of a lot more uncomfortable than waking up to bodily pain.

Everything, memories, plans, thoughts, everything came tearing through the cloudy, concussion-induced screen smothering her mind all at once, vibrant and overwhelming. She physically flinched, suddenly wide awake, eyes wide, heart pounding. Adrenaline kicked in. Sweet, sweet adrenaline.

Eryn wriggled like a fish on a line, craning her head, trying to understand her entire situation all at once. Her vision swept the walls, noted the familiar panels, the thick glass in the closed bulkhead, the colored lights above it, the dried blood on the floor in the far corner… been here before. Airlock. 'The Nyxelar'. Pirating vessel. Crew of eight, Epicanthix captain. Found her trying to leave the ship. Pursued into… Nar Shaddaa. Escape failed. Caught. Blaster fire, she remembered blaster fire and another man…

Every time she moved, pain rocketed through her bones. It was the angle, she figured. The stowaway winced, swallowing the cries of agony as she kicked her feet and tried to swing herself around to get a better perspective. She eyed the ceiling, noting the loop of metal the chain ran through, how tight it was around her wrists (not horribly), following the thin links through the loop and back down to the floor where it-…
She froze.

Because laying in a heap on the floor next to her was a man, and around HIS wrists was the other end of her chain.

Well, that complicated things.

She looked him over quickly. Couldn't tell much about him from this odd an angle. Except maybe he was hot.

Immediately, she started thinking of ways to kill him. Nothing personal, but she needed out of this situation and he obviously had problems of his own, although she wondered now if he was the source of the blaster fire she remembered. Didn't matter. She wasn't about to get caught up in his crap. Let the pirates have 'im. Eryn had just enough time to study the setup before vertigo kicked in again, forcing her eyes shut. He was half on the floor, half in the air, with his wrists pulled above his head, which meant the chain was fairly short and there wasn't much room for slack. She suspected if he stood up, she'd be able to brush the floor with her toes at the very least. For that to happen, though, he'd have to wake up, and she wasn't sure that would improve her situation much.

Guess it was worth a try, though.

"Hey. Pssst." Eryn double checked the airlock and the window into the ship. No movement, nothing. Good. "HEY, Sleeping Beauty, wake up." She wiggled a little, sending vibrations down the chain. When there was no immediate reaction, the battered young woman scowled at him. "C'mon, I don't have time for this. Wake the kark up!!" She thought about kicking, but he was too far away and her legs were too rubbery.

| [member="Marcus Lok"] |

 

[Marcus Lok]

Marcus didn't immediately come back into consciousness with the harsh words that his chained companion brought down on him. His vision was black, and he could hear the occasional dull humming sounds permeating through the air, but he could hardly place them. He had been aware of this new reality for some time, his vision fading from a dull red into an empty black and then back again every so often. He couldn't move, and in the back of his mind, he began to contemplate the possibility that he was dead. He he could feel the cold artificial air of the cell coming through his nose, but he hardly thought it was real. He cursed himself a thousand times at the very thought that he'd ended it all by messing around with the wrong thugs after a few drinks. It was too simple for him. Of course he didn't put much thought into how he wanted to die, he doubted that many people would think about it, but it almost made him angry.

Angry, that is, until the shapes and colors of reality began to fade back into view.

Vor entye...

He glanced at the walls which were set in front of him and he could tell that he'd fallen into a pretty dull trash heap. Rusty, with a fading coat of yellow paint. The entire room smelled of iron, but he knew that it was only because a coat of coagulated blood had drawn itself from his forehead to his chin. He tugged at his hands, finding them unresponsive. It hurt to move his head, but he soon saw the same length of chain and adjoining ring. Well that was just fantastic. Just what he needed to end out the day. If he wasn't dead yet he would be soon. The sick hut'uuns were probably waiting for him to wake up. Any moment the doors would open and a herd of Kath hounds would be ushered in to finish him off... What a way to go.

His chest hurt. His arms hurt. Just about everywhere on his body screamed with pain at the very suggestion that it might move an inch from where it had been permitted to rest for the moment. He looked down at his clothes and sighed at the ruined state they had left his jacket in, not to mention the bruised skin and bloody rag that had been his shirt.

It was a struggle to stand. A grimace would plant itself across his face as his boots made contact with the floor and his boy began to rise, though one leg was doing a considerable amount of extra work.


Great job, you've gotten to a squat! Maybe in a few years we'll be able to stand!

Actually, that goal seemed almost unrealistic by the feel he was getting from one of his legs. He had no doubt that the bone had been broken in... Well... Whatever had wound him up here. He did doubt that he'd come here voluntarily of course, but the actual reason that he'd been strung up for the dogs was a fuzzy mess in his mind and it hurt his brain to even delve that deep. The cornerstone of his thoughts at the moment were blocked out by a pounding headache that made him wince with each consecutive pulse.

Then he heard it.

The sharp and distinct sound of some dissatisfied girl yelling at him to get off of his tired broken arse. He'd heard that kind of shouting before. He'd heard it in a bedroom, he'd heard it in an icy wasteland. He'd even heard it under the burning fires of a Wookie village.

"Why don't you lay off?.."

It was all he cared to say under the dull light that emitted from the strip fixtures. He groaned lightly as he looked down upon the puddle of blood that had formed below him and feared what he might see in the mirror once he got out of this hole. He didn't want to turn his head and face her just yet. Maybe he was being petty, but the far more believable reason was that he simply couldn't. To rotate his neck to face her seemed like an almost herculean feat that would take years to work up to.

He'd give himself a couple of minutes.

"Whaddya' want?.."

He immediately regretted asking that one. He could only imagine the amount of venom he would get back for asking such a simple question. Especially if the girl was not his executioner, as he still couldn't very well tell what sort of predicament the two were in while his body still faced the wall. He did find something curious about his restraints however. His captors seemed to think it amusing to place a weight on the other end of the chain. It was a manageable one, but it was enough wait that his arms were always forced upwards unless he actually put some effort in and pulled the restraints down towards his chest.

/ [member="Eryn"] /

 

[Eryn]

What did she want? Oh, the amount of smartass responses she could hurl back at him right now… But Eryn opted for plain and simple, given her current physical state and the energy it was taking to maintain some semblance of balance. "I wanna live, you boob, now snap out of it!!" She swallowed, her mouth dry as Ryloth, the room still tipping ever so slightly. If she couldn't get her shiet together before someone came through that airlock door, it was over, and she had no patience for an uncooperative prison-buddy. The fact that he was probably in just as bad a shape as she was did nothing for her bedside manner. There was no time to be gentle. Gentle got you killed.

Her toes scraped at the floor as he stood (or sort of stood). Good. Just a little more… if she could get some feeling back in her hands and arms, take the pressure off her wrists… There. Her bare feet were flat once more. "Ugh, finally." Somehow, it didn't feel any better, but the amount of pain shooting across her wrists (she bit down on her tongue to stifle a cry) was almost welcome as blood pumped unencumbered through her limbs once more.
And now, NOW she could think. Because getting out of the chains would be easy, but getting out of the ship? Different story.

No sooner had she thought the word 'escape plan', the airlock door opened and in stomped Pannis, flanked by two others. Immediately Eryn slumped, eyes closed, head hanging in feigned unconsciousness. The draft of air that followed the pirates was anything but fresh, but the room outside the airlock was otherwise quiet, seemingly deserted from what she could hear.

"Well well well, look who's awake," Pannis drawled at Marcus, chuckling darkly as he gave the chain above his head a rough shake. "Sleep alright, Laserbrain? Nice 'nd comfy?" He kicked at the leg currently doing most of the holding up. "You're gonna wish you'd kept walkin' instead, boy." The men behind Pannis grunted in affirmation. "But don't be too scared, eh? It'll probably be over fast for you. It's your girlfriend here that's gonna really get it," he spat, grinning in anticipation as he grabbed Eryn by the hair and wrenched her head back to check her face. She could feel his breath on her cheeks. "Nice, and slow. Been a while since I skinned someone. Might take a few tries, heh."

Satisfied she was still unconscious, Pannis let her go. "Leith! You're on guard duty," he barked as he turned and charged out as suddenly as he'd come in. "Cap'n says lift off in four hours, I'm takin' the others on a supply run." He paused in front of the pirate, finger in his face. "Don't kriff this up." He didn't have to threaten beyond that. Everyone on The Nyxelar knew not to disappoint Pannis. As the first mate thudded away, the doors to the airlock snapped closed once more, audibly locking. Leith pressed his face to the glass, watching them through the port from the outside for a moment before he took up his place outside the airlock, propped up against a huge crate as he pulled out his datapad.

Eryn waited an extra minute or two just to be safe before she straightened her legs and stood, the chain pulling against the ring atop the ceiling. She wasn't too concerned with the noise; it was an airlock, usually they were fairly soundproof and airtight. Scowling, she shot her Mystery Man a look. Or, shot one at his back, as he still wasn't turned around. "NOW do you get it? They're gonna kill you. So suck it up and help me figure out how to get out of this airlock before we're both toast."

| [member="Marcus Lok"] |​

 

[Marcus Lok]

His ears perked at the sudden hiss of the airlock door. The air smelled of three month old laundry and old take out before long, but in his slightly sleep-like state he thought that this must only be the scent of liberation. Finally, they were here to let him out. Surely they'd learned that he was valueless, and not worth their time. He awaited the sweet embrace of freedom when the stale smelling being approached his braces. He almost felt bad for the other one that hadn't gotten locked up, no chance of escape, but HE would soon be on his way. The reality soon struck him, however, with the assault on the chain. The slicer winced at the sudden jerk, and subsequently his bruised and battered arms. They'd been up for so long that each movement brought the feeling of a thousand needles pricking themselves along his muscles by the time the rough treatment was over. He heard a few words come from the mouth of the one that he assumed must be the leader, but the sudden boot to his leg caught him off guard. He grimaced with pain and felt the air escape his lungs as his body crumpled back onto the durasteel floor, lifting the girl back up into the air for a few more minutes until they had left.

They'd spoken to him a few more times, calling the girl on the other end of the chain his 'Girlfriend' though he didn't even know her name. Thinking about how she'd treated him thus far, he might well have corrected them if he could muster the strength. While they made their threats of flaying her alive, Marcus set about standing again, being sure to rest his weight on his right leg which still stinged from the kick. After a few attempts to put weight on his left, and a few sharp pulses of pain through his spine, he could tell that it was utterly karked. They'd fractured it good, and he thought it a small miracle that a bone wasn't protruding out of his pantleg... From what he could see at any rate.

As soon as he got himself fully erect he heard the door hiss shut once more.

Blast... Stuck in here again... Wit-..

His thoughts were dashed again with the next demands of the princess that had been strung up with him. He looked at the wall for a few more moments before turning his head around and snapping at the dark shape that stood opposite him.

"Munin's Kad, Would you stow it!? Just let me think... I'll get us out of here if you just shut your mouth!.. Unless you slip your way out of your cuffs, I don't wanna hear a word."

For all he knew, she was a dead weight. A prostitute that had done these pirates wrong and he'd done something equally as foolish. What it was that he'd done was still a mystery... But it would seem as though it were up to him to get them both out of here. He could use her as a crutch if anything...

He turned his body around, recoiling slightly as the chain pressed against his face. Now... To find a way out... There was a keypad nearest to her, but they were both well out of reach of it. Not an option yet. His mind sorted down the list of things he would need to do to get to it. His hands felt relatively okay, and he pressed both of his wrists apart to test the strength of the binds which were far too strong to bend. They were of a simple design, being held together by a single screw. Feth... And he'd forgotten to bring his screwdriver.

"Er... You wouldn't happen to have anything on you like a screwdriver?.. You've had to get out of rooms sometimes right? Client's don't wanna let you leave sometimes? If you do, now would be the time to cough it up..."

/ [member="Eryn"] /​

 

[Eryn]

A screwdriver? Eryn snorted. "No, I left it in my other purse." Clients?? Wait. …Oh, he did not just suggest she was some kind of prostitute. Nine different snarky remarks gathered on her tongue ready to roll out, and she was normally not one to pass up an opportunity like this, but time was wasting and the sooner she got out of this situation and off-planet, the better. "Just…hang on a second." So Eryn grit her teeth, gaze combing the airlock once more before it settled on the small viewport in the door.

Fact of the matter was, she could probably manage it herself. The chains wouldn't be a problem, and she already had an idea on how to get the airlock open. But that's where her abilities took a dive. Any other day she'd have no trouble taking down one lone, bored pirate, but with the way the room was still tipping from side to side and the level of pain (and fatigue) in her limbs, she wasn't sure going it on her own would get her very far. Besides, she had no idea what else was waiting for her beyond Leith. This was probably one of those rare times she actually needed a little backup (ugh). Or a distraction. Eryn threw a sideways glance at the man hanging next to her. Would make a good meat shield, if nothing else.

The fugitive frowned at him. Unfortunately, he looked anything but able right now.
Oh well, she'd make it work. He'd float or sink, and even Eryn wasn't heartless enough to leave a man strung up in a pirate's den with no way to defend himself. Freeing him would give him a chance, at least.

There was a fair bit of noise as the chain above him shifted around, the sound of light straining mixed with notes of pain, and suddenly his bonds went a little slack. Massaging her wrists, the Sorrusian hybrid slunk free of her restraints towards the airlock door without a word, catching herself a few times as she weaved around in her dizzy state. The viewport was a few inches higher than she was, but she managed to catch a glimpse of the top of Leith's head a few paces away. She couldn’t see too clearly, but she thought he was facing away from them. Good. A quick inspection of the keypad told her there was no way to open it from this side without some work, and the emergency panel near the back of the airlock looked dead. They had one way out of this.

And now for her meat sh-.. er, 'travel buddy'.

She approached him, pausing once to wait for the room to stop spinning. The floor was cool against her bare feet, but it was a welcome sensation from the fiery hot pain still burning through her body. "Can you walk?" Less concerned inquiry, more 'trying to figure out if you're still useful right now'. She stood close in front of him, voice low, grimy appearance on full display. Dirt and sweat shadowed her cheekbones darkening her already battered face, and the large, bruised cut running horizontal across her jaw definitely needed a cleaning. Bright teal eyes swept unforgivingly over his face and down his body, looking for signs of damage. She found plenty. He was probably worse off than she was, although she suspected if not for her flexible skeletal frame she'd also have a few broken bones. "…can you even move? Kriff, the hell did you do to piss them off?"

| [member="Marcus Lok"] |​

 

[Marcus Lok]

He watched her for a little longer, enduring her snarky response about the tool. Useless. Utterly useless. He stopped paying attention to her about the time she told him to "Hold on". Hold on for what? The ceiling to collapse? He looked up at his restraints again, jerking them a few times to test their strength. Still as sturdy as they were a few minutes ago... Damn. It was a futile effort, and he knew it. The only thing that kept him at the chains was the knowledge that doing nothing wouldn't get them anywhere. With the threat of flaying looming, he also knew that they were a bit short on time... So once again, he fiddled with the chains, yanking them this way and that until he thought he had it! They'd slackened! He'd done it!

These thoughts of triumph continued on for a few more nanoseconds until he looked down to see her rubbing her wrists, free of any restraints. How had she done it? Was she a magician? A mutant? Or worse... A Jedi..? Those restraints had been as tight as his, at least he'd like to think, and he'd hardly been able to make them budge.

Oh well...

He'd call it luck.

He waited, unsure of what would come next. He could see her now, in all her glory. She looked like a wreck, but she didn't look hardly as bad as he felt. His leg grew tired under his constant weight, but it was no where near giving out, and he wouldn't think of falling right in front of her. She was the only way that he was getting out, at least out of the restraints, and he hardly wanted to show her that he wasn't worth the effort. He watched those dim teal orbs run up and down his body. It was an embarrassment. Whatever shred of honor he still held after abandoning his people still tugged at his mind when she gave him that look of disappointment. He was wounded, and it was somewhat serious. If he'd had any internal bleeding, he was sure that he'd be feeling much worse, but he'd still kill for some bacta right now.

When she asked if he were alright, he decided to take stock of himself a little bit better. He tensed his arms up and, although a bit sore, they were in fine condition. His legs felt... Better. That would be one of his legs felt better, as the other he couldn't very well control and it still stung like mad. But he'd push through it.


"Hell if I know... Why don't you let me down and I can show you how much I can move?"

Well that was stupid. He wasn't the best with words and in an instant he could tell that he might have said the wrong thing... He'd meant to give her an inspiring one liner about how well he could still fight at the moment, but he feared he'd only let the poke at her supposed career resurface. He was sure he'd know in an instant whether or not she could figure out what he meant. He tugged the chain low, bringing his hands to his waist. Couldn't hurt to protect against any reprisals. Especially around that area.

"Wouldn't want to be alone on this ship, right?"

/ [member="Eryn"] /​

 

[Eryn]

I mean, I like being alone, I don't have to worry about anyone else except me… But the only response he got was a slight eyebrow raise. A quick inspection of his hands told her even breaking his fingers wouldn't allow him to slip the chains, and there was no lock to pick. Great. "Magnetic lock. No way to break it," she mumbled at him, thinking. "The guy outside probably has the unlock button…" She stepped back, following the chain over the ceiling, looking for anything she could use to improve their situation. "Sometimes if you hit the bindings at the right angle, it'll knock the seal loose, or… high temperatures can mess with the magnets…" Quickly checking the door to make sure they weren't being watched, she gingerly grasped at her now free-hanging restraints. "Older models had this problem where they'd cancel each other's magnetic seals out if they got too close, but… I think these are newer. Damn." She dropped the end of the chain. Well, she'd tried.

Time for plan B.
He wouldn't like plan B.
To be honest, given the world of hurt she was already in, neither would she.

Eryn hauled herself over to the keypad near the door. She'd thought about messing with the wiring to sound the alarm like she'd done before, but if there were any other men aboard, they'd also come running. Something told her she didn't have to think too hard about this escape plan. Leith seemed about as bright as a toenail. But there was a thin, rusted metal rod bent the wrong way in the bottom corner of the airlock, and if she could gather enough strength to wiggle the thing free… The fugitive steeled her tender body and pulled at it, face screwed up in pain as she tugged at what looked like the weakest spot. A few violent kicks and it snapped, clattering to the floor as she hung onto the wall with her eyes closed against the spinning room. "I'm gonna…bring him in here…" she panted, picking up the rod. Eryn stood in the corner away from the viewport, her empty restraints hanging in clear view. "Just…be ready." For what? Anything. She didn't know. All she could think about right now was sleep.

Sleep and where to run her rod through Leith for quickest death. The neck. But he was tall.
She'd find a way.

Eryn raised the rod, bringing it down as hard as she could against the wall near the panel. She did it again, and again, and again. The metal-on-metal rang sharply through the hull, reverberating uncomfortably in her ears and her aching head. Leith's face appeared in the window shortly after, eyes widening when he saw just one prisoner secured. The door swished open. He barreled in, blaster out and primed, looking everywhere at once with wild, panicked movements.

Everywhere but the shadow in the corner.

Eryn sprang at him, pouncing on his back with a feral snarl, rusty rod in one hand, her other arm hooked around his throat. They struggled. Leith aimed his blaster backwards, trying to hit anything, failing. He dropped the thing in favor of using both hands to pry at her arms, but she was stuck like a barnacle. She raised her rod, aiming for his neck, but the pirate threw himself backwards into the bulkhead, smashing Eryn against the wall. She squealed, crumpling to the floor. Leith wheeled around, fist raised.

The small, white rectangular FOB for the magni-cuffs dangled from his pocket.
Eryn kicked Leith backwards…directly into Marcus.

|| [member="Marcus Lok"] ||​

 

[Marcus Lok]

Marcus watched her as she looked over him and the restricting cuffs that still cut into his wrists whenever he attempted to shift his wrists around to stir some life into his hands. They were painful, but not as painful as the thought that she might well leave him behind. He would be dead meat. As much as he'd hate to admit it, he didn't think that he would be making an escape anytime soon, and certainly not with his injuries... That is, if she didn't help him. It would only be a matter of time before the scum returned to finish up their catch and space them before the bodies started to stink.

With little explanation, she walked behind him. He didn't feel the urge to turn around and watch her fiddle around with whatever had caught her eye, so he watched the door. He waited for a grimy spacer to peep his eyes through the small window that hung high on the frame, but fate seemed to be in their favor at least for the moment. The sound of creaking metal caught his ear almost immediately, and while he was afraid that it would be the door's mechanisms, he was confused when he heard the sound of the same metal fragmenting. What had she done? Had she found a hole in the wall? It would be a curious thing to allow in an airlock, but these sleazebags were clearly dull enough to let anything slip their minds. He awaited the sounds of her shimmying away into some dark abyss within the bowels of the ship, leaving him stranded and utterly helpless to the pirates who would return and fruitlessly question him as to the whereabouts of his former 'chain-mate'.

But it seemed that was not to be.

She soon appeared in front of him again, now holding a rod of bent up durasteel that was rusted all over and horribly jagged on the end. She didn't mean to stab him... Surely. He'd heard of women doing the same thing for less than being called easy, but she didn't seem like the type. In fact, Marcus was getting a clearer and clearer picture of who this girl actually was. A survivor.

She moved with a purpose. Her eyes were always focused and cold.
The way she thought, and the speed at which she examined a situation only made it clearer that she'd been at this for a while.
She was no prostitute...

He could hardly begin to guess who she actually was before she thrust that stupid idea into his face. Bring him in? For what? So that he might shoot them both and save them the trouble of dying in the vacuum? That would seem like the only reason this girl might want to bring in an armed thug with little on his mind.

"Wait don-.."

He didn't have a chance to reason with her. She was already banging like hell on the wall and his splitting headache began to return with the shattering clang of the metal at every interval. He hoped she would stop. He WISHED she would stop. The thought of hearing this go on for another minute was unbearable, and he was almost glad when the man came lumbering in with a blaster pointed at his face. He was alert now, eyeing the criminal up and down before the fight ensued. He watched as she went ballistic on his back. She fought with the fire that only a mad-woman had, and he was slightly astonished that the man had the wherewithal to slam her into the bulkhead. He was ready though, and when the kick flew into the man's stomach, Marcus was ready to wrap his arms around the man's next. Flexing with all of his might in the hope that he might somehow snap the man's neck. It wasn't happening. He cursed out loud, he pulled tighter against the thug until he could feel the cool pricks of spittle spraying across his arm. Finally, he began to yell the only thing that he could think of as this pirate writhed in his hold.

"STAB HIM! STAB HIM DAMMIT!"

He shouted it at the top of his lungs, looking at her with a bit of his own madness blended into his gaze. Hopefully she wouldn't run the pole straight through him and into his own chest. That would be problematic, and she almost certainly wouldn't search the ship for some bacta. In desperation, he sucked all of the air into his lungs that he possibly could, moving his stomach into his form as far as it would allow... Just in case the worst should occur.

/ [member="Eryn"] /​