Martyred Medic
Skeevi got the gangsters a lantern, clearly uneasy as they did, and the Doc couldn't fault them; they were probably used to staying out of the way of organized crime, one of the unwritten rules that virtually all of Denon's street kids obeyed. He wouldn't have asked if he'd thought they would be in any danger, of course. These gangsters had an image to maintain, and wouldn't do anything that would ruin it for their boss. Sure enough, the minute the underlings started in on discussing some worrying ideas, their red-headed leader literally smacked it out of them. As long as Skeevi and the Doc stayed in public, and the Hutt wanted public goodwill, they'd be perfectly safe.
The street medic moved to help the gangsters unload, adding their supplies to his distribution line and getting their food-warming equipment set up. So far as he could tell, it was good stuff, a genuine help to the people here. It vindicated his decision to not look a gift fathier in the mouth; he'd take humanitarian aid no matter who it came from, because the only part that mattered was who it helped. Long experience had taught him to focus only on what he could control, and not worry about the rest. Maybe this stuff was stolen, or extorted, or manufactured by slave labor in some sweatshop. He couldn't change that, but he could at least give it out to people in need, put it to good use.
"So, robot-man, what made ya decide playin' good cop in a place covered by chit-lords?" The Doc laughed at Mercy's question, an open, genuine chuckle. "Someone ought to," he said, offering her a shrug. "I have the skills to help, and no one else was stepping up." He didn't go into his past, into all the terrible things he needed to make up for, the misdeeds that kept him up at night every night until drowned in whiskey. What he'd said was the truth, after all, just not the whole truth. Someone did need to help these people, because it was the right thing to do. "May I ask what inspired Alichos's generosity today? Same number of chit-lords as yesterday, just colder."
He had guesses, and probably wouldn't get a straight answer, but he was curious what the gangster would say.
The sound of an approaching vehicle made him tense. Speeders weren't wildly common down here, and it was mostly Corpos who had them. Had CorpSec come to mess with the giveaway, maybe claim they lacked some made-up license and demand a bribe? Or had someone spilled the beans that Doc Painless, wanted terrorist, was the man in charge of this little operation? The Doc shut his eyes, remembering his exit plans - sewer grates, abandoned buildings, anywhere he could use to break line of sight and slip away. His hand fell to his gun again, tightening on the grip as the tent flap swept open. But then he relaxed again; this was no CorpSec patrol after all.
"Thank you," the Doc told the Donna, inclining his head. He didn't know much about this woman and her mysterious enforcers, but again, he wasn't about to complain if she was bringing in supplies free of charge. More food, and warm clothing alongside the blankets, would help them stretch their resources much further. What did worry him a bit was that two different criminal organizations - or so he assumed - were now involving themselves in the same charity giveaway. Would Alichos's henchmen be upset at the dilution of goodwill toward their master now that someone else was also helping out? The street medic did not need a brawl - or worse, a firefight - in his tent.
"I'm grateful for the supplies and the protection," he cautiously but graciously replied, "and I'm sure the locals will be as well." He raised his voice a little, making sure that Mercy and Ivory could tell his words were meant for them both. "I hope we can agree that this is neutral ground, where everyone but CorpSec is welcome, and where we won't need any blasters unless they show up." Please, please don't turn my disaster relief into a violent contest, he silently pleaded with both. Things were always tense when you got potential rivals in the same room, even if they were planning on doing pretty much the same thing. Especially then, actually.
"What do you know about her?" the Doc asked Skeevi in butchered, implant-translated Jawaese, covertly pointing a thumb at Ivory.
The street medic moved to help the gangsters unload, adding their supplies to his distribution line and getting their food-warming equipment set up. So far as he could tell, it was good stuff, a genuine help to the people here. It vindicated his decision to not look a gift fathier in the mouth; he'd take humanitarian aid no matter who it came from, because the only part that mattered was who it helped. Long experience had taught him to focus only on what he could control, and not worry about the rest. Maybe this stuff was stolen, or extorted, or manufactured by slave labor in some sweatshop. He couldn't change that, but he could at least give it out to people in need, put it to good use.
"So, robot-man, what made ya decide playin' good cop in a place covered by chit-lords?" The Doc laughed at Mercy's question, an open, genuine chuckle. "Someone ought to," he said, offering her a shrug. "I have the skills to help, and no one else was stepping up." He didn't go into his past, into all the terrible things he needed to make up for, the misdeeds that kept him up at night every night until drowned in whiskey. What he'd said was the truth, after all, just not the whole truth. Someone did need to help these people, because it was the right thing to do. "May I ask what inspired Alichos's generosity today? Same number of chit-lords as yesterday, just colder."
He had guesses, and probably wouldn't get a straight answer, but he was curious what the gangster would say.
The sound of an approaching vehicle made him tense. Speeders weren't wildly common down here, and it was mostly Corpos who had them. Had CorpSec come to mess with the giveaway, maybe claim they lacked some made-up license and demand a bribe? Or had someone spilled the beans that Doc Painless, wanted terrorist, was the man in charge of this little operation? The Doc shut his eyes, remembering his exit plans - sewer grates, abandoned buildings, anywhere he could use to break line of sight and slip away. His hand fell to his gun again, tightening on the grip as the tent flap swept open. But then he relaxed again; this was no CorpSec patrol after all.
"Thank you," the Doc told the Donna, inclining his head. He didn't know much about this woman and her mysterious enforcers, but again, he wasn't about to complain if she was bringing in supplies free of charge. More food, and warm clothing alongside the blankets, would help them stretch their resources much further. What did worry him a bit was that two different criminal organizations - or so he assumed - were now involving themselves in the same charity giveaway. Would Alichos's henchmen be upset at the dilution of goodwill toward their master now that someone else was also helping out? The street medic did not need a brawl - or worse, a firefight - in his tent.
"I'm grateful for the supplies and the protection," he cautiously but graciously replied, "and I'm sure the locals will be as well." He raised his voice a little, making sure that Mercy and Ivory could tell his words were meant for them both. "I hope we can agree that this is neutral ground, where everyone but CorpSec is welcome, and where we won't need any blasters unless they show up." Please, please don't turn my disaster relief into a violent contest, he silently pleaded with both. Things were always tense when you got potential rivals in the same room, even if they were planning on doing pretty much the same thing. Especially then, actually.
"What do you know about her?" the Doc asked Skeevi in butchered, implant-translated Jawaese, covertly pointing a thumb at Ivory.