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I'm On Your Planet, Headbutting Your People [PM for Invite]

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
Once more I would like to refer back to a statement I made not too long ago, said statement involved the use of Doctor Mundo's Law.

Steph Zenima. Goes. Where. She. Pleases.

The most stupid person in the entire galaxy found herself inexplicably deep in Sith space. How had this happened? Yes, Mundo's Law, you're catching on. Hold on! You cry, throwing your Palpatine plushie across the room in despair. She's with the Republic, she can't just be on one of OUR PLANETS! Well firstly, you need to calm down right now, mister and secondly, have you met Steph Zenima? What's she going to do by herself to your precious property? Transform into a giant nuke?

MAYBE. SUCKER.

Probably not, though.

She sat on the floor of the most generic cantina to ever grace fiction, wondering how did she end up here? Where was her hammer? Whose underwear was she wearing? Had she fallen over...? Or. Thin cracked lips peeled upwards to reveal the rotten carnivorous teeth of Havoc Squad's liability. HAD SHE BEEN PUSHED?

The woman scrambled to her feet and grabbed the collar of the nearest person, who happened to be a hapless Rodian just making his way to the little reptile's room.

He objected. Unfortunately for him in Rodese.

“AH DAH SPEAK NO ALIEN, MATE!”

The woman crashed her forehead into Mr. Misfortune's snout, not once, not twice, not even thrice. Actually, she kept crashing her impossibly hard skull into his face more times than she could count...which, admittedly could have been anywhere between eight and infinity.

WHO COULD STOP SUCH VIOLENCE?!

@[member="Elizabeth Sunrider"]
 
Belle of the Brawl
Writer
Security detail was the worst. Absolutely the worst. It was safe, but that meant it was boring as hell and wasn't worth the pay. Elizabeth wouldn't have been anywhere near it if she hadn't been issued a direct ultimatum that if she didn't do more consistent work with the Imperial military, she'd lose her contract and be forced to renegotiate. A little boredom was worth her status as preferred employee, and the fact that she got to harass the straight-laced Stormtroopers was something of an appropriate consolation.

Unfortunately for her, security detail tended to mean she'd actually have to step in and "protect" the citizens of backwater, useless planets like Telos. The little comlink stuffed into her toolbelt gave a quick beep at her as she leaned up against a disgusting, rusty bulkhead and lit up her last smoke. Finally a little action. Something vaguely interesting to break the monotony of...well, friggin' Telos.

Resting her rifle butt on the ground, she swapped her free hand for the comlink and blew a long stream of smoke out of her lips. "...Yeah, go ahead."

The scratchy voice on the other end of the line was Lieutenant Yima. The fact that she shared her name and relevant rank with another officer on Telos thousands of years ago was something that she probably wasn't aware of. <"We've got a disturbance in the cantina on Block K-76. You're the closest, so you get the short straw.">

Liz smirked and kicked her rifle back up into her arms. "You're a lifesaver. I was about to die of boredom. On my way." Pulling her (very snazzy) hat down, the mercenary started off towards whatever had the misfortune of being her entertainment for the evening. She'd try not to use lethal force, but the higher-ups normally didn't care if there weren't any human bodies to find names for.

---

The cantina was easy enough to find. Just follow the screams and sounds of breaking glass. Elizabeth stopped at the open doorway and gave a couple of knocks. "Housekeeping." 'Take out the trash' jokes notwithstanding, housekeeping didn't normally include a blaster rifle. Or wear kickass sunglasses and a Dundee hat.
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
The housekeeping had arrived just in time.

By then the Rodian had unfortunately long since passed, his skull losing the bout with the woman who had bashed her own brain about so much that her IQ now dipped into the minus. Of course, Steph being oblivious to his passing just continued her assault. Kicking the now limp body like it was her least favourite sack of potatoes.

You'd think it was strange that nobody so far had tried to apprehend a woman of such small stature, well, of course she had just headbutted somebody to death, so it was fair to give her a wide berth, no matter how short and bony.

Her own head was split open and as she turned to face the armed maid blood trickled down her face. As long as she kept this behaviour off of the Republic's worlds then they could pay it no attention. Steph Zenima? Who?

“FIT KIND O TINK TAKS A BLASTAH TAE A BAR FIGHT?”

It was cute, how she almost spoke Basic.

Immediately Steph picked up the closest object that wasn't a corpse, a yellowing plasteel bar stool and flung it at the woman with those definitely kickass sunglasses. The hat...maybe...not so much.

@[member="Elizabeth Sunrider"]
 
Belle of the Brawl
Writer
Hooolycrap! 'Chair. Move.' Liz ducked back outside the doorway just in time for the stool to clatter against the wall where her head had been about twenty seconds earlier. Conveniently, being attacked meant that she didn't have to go through all of that "cease and desist" nonsense. Not like she really would have anyway, but this meant less paperwork when she reported back, which was a plus.

Flicking her rifle's safety off, Elizabeth pushed her glasses back up and set her weapon to stun before she peeked back around. The little urchin was short, scrawny, and looked to be either extremely drunk or inhumanly stupid. Honestly, probably both. She leveled her gun and squeezed off a couple of stun blasts, watching down-scope to make sure the charming murderess was incapacitated.

Just in case, she set her blaster back to "kill." No reason to take chances when the Imps didn't ask a lot of questions.
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
There was mild disappointment upon the face of the woman as the stool so blatantly missed, of course, there was also blood and possibly...other...substances...that would show under the power of the black light. Miss Zenima was surely a woman for the ages to remember, so graceful, elegant, sure an inspiration for all the young impressionable girls in this galaxy!

When the gun peeked back around the corner her instincts told her that this was bad, bad things are bad and that you should move. Her almost destroyed brain knew that the best way to communicate was through three letter words. Anything else was just too much.

She ran off to the side, one of the blasts almost catching her on the heel, her bare heel at that. Why did she only have on one shoe? Good question. Next.

A brainwave made it through. A rare moment of clarity that needed to be documented for the greater good of the scientific community. Use the table as cover. In what would have been a brilliant moment, Steph went to flip the table...only to find that it was bolted to the floor... and that she wasn't The Hulk. She struggled with the table for a few moments, not wishing to give up but finally realised that it was a no-go before she had soiled herself in exertion.

Plan B.

She gathered any and all glassware on the table into her arms, two pint glasses, a tumbler and an ashtray, the contents of them pouring down her arms and staining her clothes. She threw the ashtray at the doorway first.

“COME 'ERE AN FIGHT WI' YER FISTS, YE FANNY!!'

@[member="Elizabeth Sunrider"]
 
Belle of the Brawl
Writer
Well, that was certainly a first. Liz honestly couldn't remember the last time someone had called her a fanny, especially not when throwing ashtrays at her and covered in...oh, that was just gross. She ducked back outside the doorway just in time to keep the fragmented glass from popping into places that she didn't want it to, like her eyes, then quickly repeated her last trick in a new way.

Ducking into a crouch, she came fully into the doorway, just long enough to get a solid bead on the drunken hooligan who was flinging junk at her like a drunken hooligan. Elizabeth fired two shots, this time screaming red and quite lethal, then stood back up and took cover behind the-

-crack-

"Aagh! Fething..." Well, that was a pint of something unspeakable. On a related note, she'd need to change clothes when she got off duty. Sunrider didn't hesitate, standing back up and ducking back behind the doorway. "Ugh! These things have to be dry-cleaned, you know!" Grumbling, she reached down to her boot and pulled out a combat knife, keeping it on her barrel grip as she breathed out her frustration. "Oh well. Slum-booze and blood are just as washable..."

There were some people milling about by now. They'd actually managed to react when there was blaster fire, instead of just gawking like they had been with the part where some alien wretch's head got dashed all over the floor. Liz really didn't care much if the civilians scattered or not. Collateral damage reports tended to be measured in credits, not lives. "Toss one more bloody jar. One more! I swear I'm not going to stop shooting until the coroners have to sweep your body into a fraking coffee can!"
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
Way-hey!

Unfortunately it was not a direct hit but rather an exchange. I don't know if you had gotten this vibe, but Steph Zenima wasn't the brightest bulb in the toilet. One of the blaster bolts luckily flew in-between her legs (pretty sure you get points for that) but the other one she blocked. Blocked with what exactly.

What if I told you that Miss Zenima tried to block a blaster shot with her hand?

No, no, what if I told you that this imbecile of a woman, dropped the remainder of the glass that she carried onto her feet, so she could take a nice dose of superheated plasma (thank you very much) to her very fleshy hand? You'd believe it, wouldn't you?

The poor excuse for a human being howled, probably more for her now scorched hand rather than the battered toes on the shoeless foot. Steph followed up her feral noise with a long string of curses that, due to rules I cannot type out. But they happened, and I would have bolded them, maybe even put the font size up to TWENTY-FOUR. The things she had just called this woman, well, sailors would have cried.

“DINNA BE SHY. AHM NAE THROWIN' NAEHIN' MAIR, KEN?”

Not out of honour or in the name of a good fight but mostly because she had dropped the rest of the glassware on the floor.

@[member="Elizabeth Sunrider"]
 
Belle of the Brawl
Writer
The sound of screaming idiot was possibly the most wonderful sound in the world, apart from the pure silence Liz was going to hear when she was done emptying two full plugs of bolts into this little twat. "Oh sure, that sounds like an absolutely lovely idea," she replied while tossing out her rifle, directly inside the doorway and right next to the front wall. She'd "disarmed" herself. Liz made sure to put her knife back in her boot and reached down to unbuckle the holster on her pistol instead. This little schutta was going to burn.

She took a full three steps inside the bar, looking exactly none the friendlier than when she was outside. Without a bit of hesitation, she pulled her pistol out of its holster and leveled it at the obnoxious little cretin in front of her, squeezing until she ran out of energy and not stopping her slow, deliberate walk the whole time. It's a little hard to launch a counterattack when you're being shot at and you don't have a gun on you, so she wasn't exactly worried about the rather vulnerable position she was putting herself in. What was the mongrel going to do? Throw another ashtray?

In mid-stride, Sunrider reached down to her left and pulled one of her knives out of her belt sheath before returning her hand, including knife, to the grip of her blaster. Bar stools and mugs against a heavy blaster and a folded durasteel combat knife left her quite enjoying her chances. "Blasters are like fists, only not."
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
Oh gosh.

Steph stood there with both hands raised, due to a certain lady with a daft hat only one of her hands was balled into a fist. Like a child at Sithmas she was excited, a brawl, yes, that's what she needed! A good old fashioned...oh.

When the pistol came out there was a very brief flash of disappointment on the woman's face, like a million puppies being kicked at the same time. This turned to a snarl as the she once again went for the 'RUN OVER THERE' tactic of dodging. Forgetting that at her feet (one still bare), lay a problem. Namely a broken glass problem.

Her boot crunched fine, her filthy bare foot however, did not. A yelp, a stumble, another hit, this time it was the left calf that went to scorch city. Steph Zenima fell. Was it over? All too soon?

Of course it wasn't.

Yowling, grunting and groaning the woman scrabbled across the floor like a demented beetle. Behind the bar. That would be her sanctuary. Her opponent was probably still approaching, there was no time. Steph Zenima had to go to a special place. From within the mystery underwear she pulled out a small bag of blue power. It was time for a top up.

SSSSNNNNIIIIFFFFFFFF!

Sadly she would still have to wait for that sweet narcotic effect to take hold. It was time to blag it.

“AH-ah SURRENDER, PAL! DINNAE SHOOT ANYMARE. AHM HURTIN', KEN?!”

@[member="Elizabeth Sunrider"]
 
Belle of the Brawl
Writer
Well, now that that was taken care of, Elizabeth finally had a few seconds to take her surroundings into account. Okay, so there was a ton of property damage here, and she could probably pull a couple of strings to get that charged on the blueberry-brain squealing and sniffing spice on the floor. Yeah, even the blaster scoring. Imperial "justice" was sweet like that. There was a dead body, too, but it was just some alien trash. Her bosses wouldn't care as much about a dead Rodian as they would the hundreds of credits of damage done to a cantina that might have to come out of their own pockets.

Standing for a long moment with her gun barrel-first at the whimpering spice fiend curled up on the ground beneath her, Liz sighed and holstered her blaster in trade for her comlink. "Yima, this is Sunrider. Disturbance dealt with, and I need a shower." She sheathed her knife as she moved over to one of the knocked-over tables and picked up one of the cigs on the floor, then walked over to one of the blaster score-marks to light it on the residual fire. "We'll need a cleanup crew. One casualty, suspect is incapacitated, lots of blaster scoring."

There was an audible sigh over the comm, and Liz paid it absolutely no mind. <"Dammit Sunrider, who did you mutilate this time?">

Elizabeth leaned her tight butt up against the counter and took a drag from her "appropriated" cigarette before answering. "She's lucky she's still alive. The bastard she was having complications with isn't so lucky." Ooh, sweet narcotics. Way to make the headache go away. She gave a sigh, blowing out her vice through her lips before offering her boss a freebie in something that vaguely resembled a civil tone. "If it makes you feel any better, I can get her patched up before your boys show. Less paperwork from the hospital, yeah?"

<"That's the least you'll be doing if that place is anything like what I'm betting it is."> Fortunately, Yima couldn't hear Liz making obscene gestures at her through the comlink. <"Get your perp up to code before-"> Aaaand Elizabeth cut her off.

"You're welcome, you sanctimonious schutta." With a sigh and another long drag, she shook her head and dropped her comlink back into her belt. After a moment, the merc looked to her left, to the ruffian on the floor. "And you. I really shouldn't be doing you any favours. This jacket is Corellian panther leather. It cost me more than half of this bloody bar, and it'll cost me half that much to get it cleaned."
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
Despite having a multitude of wounds and despite having a blaster pointed in her general direction, Zenima was very casual. She just needed that second wind. However in the mean time there was a fantastic opportunity presented to be to rather gross.

There was a shard of glass lodged in her foot.

Inspecting her own blackened sole, the stupid woman simply yanked the glass out, with no careful thought or consideration towards bleeding or infection. “Aaaaiiyaah...” Naturally it bled, the red red krovy dribbling down her foot quite freely. Why was her foot so dirty? Where did she leave her shoe? Come to think of it how did she even get here?

However, a more important question remained at large, one more important than the meaning of life itself.

Where was the sledgehammer?

She peered around, giving the floor a quick scan but there was nothing. It would come to her...maybe...probably not, actually. Given the way that Steph Zenima lived life it wouldn't be surprising if her precious hammer was in a casino, winning the fifty thousand credit jackpot. Somehow.

“Well, ye shudnae o' worn it tae werk, eh?” Steph grunted, propping herself up against the bar. She still refused to look at either one of her blaster wounds, most likely under the logic that if she didn't see it, it totally didn't happen...despite the fact that it stung like the revenge of one million bees in a Nicholas Cage film.

It came.

A mild buzz turned into a feeling of invincibility. Limbs began to go numb and the temptation to just lay there and let her eyes roll into the back of her skull was almost unbearable. The second wind had arrived, the wind of the Gods, the wind of dangerous amounts of narcotics! THE BEST WINDS OF ALL!

With a surprising amount of agility considering her wounds, the tenacious Steph Zenima suddenly pounced. The revenge of the Corellian Panther. She was aiming to cling onto the woman's right leg and sink her beautiful space meth ravaged teeth into her knee.

@[member="Elizabeth Sunrider"]
 
Belle of the Brawl
Writer
What the profanity noises?

Liz had respectable reflexes. They meant sod all when a meth-head with burned skin and a bleeding glass-wound on her foot came charging. What seemed to be quite a bit worse was that this meth-head seemed to be a rancor in disguise, because there was no way in a very unlikely analogy that she should've been able to maintain that sort of grip. This would've been interesting to consider on its own if Liz had had time to do so. The number of teeth in her leg was somewhat distracting.

"AAAIHHGH!!" Without thinking, her first reflex was to smash her hand down, two knuckles towards one of her favorite nerve clusters at the base of the neck. Normally she'd just do it once and let the pain sink in, but this was not a normal time. She hammered her fist into this psycho's neck to punctuate each and every word. "Get. THE. FETH. OFF!!" That wasn't working. Why it wasn't working didn't really matter. Panic reflex is to go for overkill.

Her left hand shot for her belt knife, ripping it out in an extremely ungraceful motion and stabbing down at the demented blue-haired zombie trying to make a feast out of her leg. It was difficult to aim when she was in screaming pain and could feel her skin being ripped apart by rotten teeth, but considering they were at grapple range, chances were she was going to hit something. After a couple of stabs, she reached up with her free leg and kicked at her assailant's face.

Like, really hard.
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
Satisfaction central.

Her mouth welcomed the taste of fabric as she happily chomped down. It was amazing just how frightening a prospect it was to have Steph Zenima on your leg. The human parasite. The cracked-up wrecking ball. The indomitable! THE INVINCIBLE! The downright retarded.

It seemed as if every time the woman struck her in the back of the neck there was a spasm and she just bit down that centimetre more. At that moment in time she was mostly numb to pain but when it wore off, ooh howdy, that was going to be a stinger.

“NNRRRMMMMGGGHHHKKK!”

Your guess is as good as mine.

Then came the knife. This incarnation of Steph Zenima is still made of flesh, so when the blade came stabbing down, it sunk into pallid, filthy flesh. Not just once, no but several times. The woman felt that, like I said, she was mostly nu-

CRACK!

The boot connected and Miss Zenima lost her second tooth on SWRP. It was one of the front ones too, damn. This meant that girl had finally relented and released the woman's leg from her disgusting maw. Scrambling away on all fours Havoc Squad's liability went barrelling into the ladies bathroom. The thought of what germs were now invading her foot wound was completely and utterly disgu-

OH SHE JUST PUKED. GROSS.

Almost making it to a cubicle, Steph the feminine wonder of the universe sprayed bile and chunks onto the back of the grotty cistern. The tiny woman had clearly over-done the bag of mystery blue. Wait, what was that? In the toilet. Oh yes. OH YES IT WAS.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Like the sword in the stone, her beautiful sledgehammer sat upright in the toilet, the hammer end just having a nice chill in the repulsive bog water. Now covered in the contents of her own guts, Steph Zenima plucked her weapon from the toilet (with her good hand, of course).

Although if that twat of a woman had followed her straight into the bathroom then there was a good chance that she was standing...right...behind...her?

@[member="Elizabeth Sunrider"]
 
Belle of the Brawl
Writer
The moment the little queen turned around, her face made contact in the most dramatic way with the butt of a heavy blaster. Elizabeth wasn't exactly the picture of elegance as she stood in the middle of a cantina bathroom, clutching her bleeding leg with one hand and holding her blaster a little shakily with the other. The sheer venom in the death glare on her face might not have been much more than intimidating, but when she brought her right, blood-soaked hand up to grab a big, thick handful of blue hair, there was plenty of intimidation there.

'Can't let her swing that thing.' Liz yanked one pigtail down, bringing her pistol down towards the girl's collarbone before falling back with her own choking session. Too much pain there. Her butt wound up on the ground, and it took genuine effort for her to keep the blaster leveled even at point-blank range. "...Now...listen queen..." She swallowed hard to keep herself from whimpering in pain. "...You're going to stay very, very still, or I'm going to fry you into your subatomic state."

Her leg was bleeding, she was in pain, and now her psychotic target was quite armed. Things weren't looking good for Elizabeth Sunrider, but that was pretty standard. If that blasted crack whore tried another move, she'd empty another clip...but considering how well that worked the last time, she wasn't holding her breath. And where the hell was her backup?!
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
Welp. There goes the nose. It was quite an audible crunch, as the cartilage had a mad rave inside of her face, or perhaps it was a mosh pit, I mean, how do you know what kind of music the inside of your face is into? You just don't.

Steph's face was a pretty grim picture, a mixture of blood, vomit, a new missing tooth and to top it all off the eyes of a demented crack fiend in space. She was surely going to get all of the boys looking like this, although, did Miss Zenima even want all of the boys? Or any of the boys? Or just...boys? I mean, she shagged all the boys, but does that mean that she wanted them? Life, man...

It was at this stage that she could no longer tell what was broken or what injuries she had even sustained. Much confusion. Such drugs. So traumas. Wow.

The ball was now in the court of Steph, who due to being so inconceivably thick had already decided that being shot point blank would be worth it if she could just squish this dick of a woman with her sledge. Fate, however had other plans, hilarious plans but ones that did not involve the smashing of silly hat wearing bints.

The short mess of a girl put a little too much weight on the bare foot, yes, the one that was slick with blood and bodily fluids most often found on the floors of public restrooms. She slipped. To perfectly describe it, one would say that Stephanie Zenima banana peeled. Hilariously, she fell backwards, the back of her head impacting hard against the toilet seat behind her with a sickening crack.

Yowch.

“....aaaahh....fit....like....min....”

Well, at least she wasn't dead.

@[member="Elizabeth Sunrider"]
 
Belle of the Brawl
Writer
"Flabbergasted" is a funny word, and normally it wouldn't fit someone as...well, almost-classy as Liz. When she witnessed the madwoman she was trying not to kill fall back like she was in a cartoon, it was the perfect word to describe her reaction. She wasn't in a position to fight it, though, roughed-up, in pain, and covered in things she most certainly did not want to consider. It took her only a moment after that little comedy for her arm to drop in time with her head leaning back against the filthy cistern wall with a sigh. "...I do not get paid enough for this."

There was a crackle from her belt. The beleaguered merc took a few moments to reach for her comlink, leaving her pistol laying on the disgusting floor out of necessity. She opened the channel with a grumble, her hand still on her bleeding leg. "The feth are you bastards? The little demon-queen got back up. I shot her twice, and she just got back up."

<"Secure your scene, Sunrider."> Yima was as charming as the people she had to deal with.

Case in point. "Oh don't you start with me. This crazy crack whore just cracked open some alien's face with her head, threw a mug of whatever passes for swill around here at my head, bit my leg, and vomited on the floor while she came at me with a sledgehammer." Liz was appallingly calm for someone who was telling the complete and honest truth about insanity like that. "I'm bleeding, she's unconscious, the alien's dead, there's damage everywhere, and you need to get your useless conscripts over here to get this chit dialed in."

It was kind of amazing how Liz could almost hear Yima laughing even when her comm was silent. Then she realized that she could, because Yima was walking in the door with about three of her men right behind her. "Oh, we're here. We were just waiting for you to finish your job. Now that the area's secure, we can go in for processing and cleanup."

Liz was trying her very best to set the Telosian woman on fire with her mind. "I fething hate you."

The men didn't seem to give much of a notice to the women bantering in the middle of the ladies' toilet, instead trying to negotiate violence and Liz's prone and bleeding form to secure the madwoman with a bleeding, infected wound in her leg and a totally mussed up face. The fact that it took one-and-a-half of them to lift that damn hammer was somewhat telling, to Elizabeth, exactly how boned she would've been if she'd let herself get hit by it.
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
Only half of the woman was still in a state of consciousness.

The other half of Stephanie Zenima was on a beach in the beautiful scenic world of Possible Aneurysm Land. Just kicking back, sipping on a lovely fruity cocktail and admiring the triple sunset. How do you know when a planet has too many suns? I mean, I can imagine three is a touch excessive if they all set at the same time, you know? Better than eternal day, though. The night is grand, granted you have at least one moon to howl at.

Ingesting strange powders you find in other people's underwear can lead to these moments.

In reality, Zenima slowly rolled herself over, her face in full contact with the disgusting floor. In fact, I think her tongue was actually touched the ground. Oh god. The poor bathroom was definitely going to need a sterilising after being licked by this woman.

There were voices around her, far too many voices for the woman's current state of brain damage.

If you were feeling mighty observant, you might have saw that Steph actually began to try and push herself off the ground for another assault. Fortunately the third time was not the charm and the madwoman merely collapsed back onto the ground. The familiar sensation of cuffs graced her wrists, a standard Steph Zenima end to a standard Steph Zenima day.

“'hiv...ye...seen mah shoe?” the woman asked, voice groggy as she was peeled off of the floor. My god, was she beautiful. The swollen nose, the blood which at this point could have been leaking from any and all of the wounds of her face.

Showing absolutely no care or concern for her apprehension, Steph gave her new best friend in the whole galaxy the most ridiculous grin she could have mustered. If she wasn't being held onto by one of the rather late backup squad then the mad woman would have fallen at her so aggressively. The fight never really ends with Miss Zenima.

"Ah'll...tak ye aaaah oan...reet noo, KEN?"

@[member="Elizabeth Sunrider"]
 
Belle of the Brawl
Writer
Rotting, yellow, missing teeth was probably the least-appealing thing one could see in another human being. Of course, it was still up for debate whether or not the thing that Liz had been shooting at all day was human. It babbled something about...something. Was that even Basic? It probably wasn't Basic. Elizabeth groaned and rolled her eyes in disgust as the soft, lazy planetary security forces took the psycho off.

She probably would've had a few moments of peace to lay in perfect agony with her festering wound if Yima hadn't deigned to ruin them. "Aww, looks like your cheery disposition made you a friend, Sunrider."

Liz was running out of obscene human gestures, so she tried a Tandoshan one, while giving her most valiant attempt at spitting on Yima's boots. She missed, of course. Her aim was a little off from the pain. "Kindly frak off." Yima returned every bit of kindness she could offer on the way out of the cistern, leaving Liz alone with her thoughts. And her screaming, unfathomable agony.

She had a medpack on her. That would at least staunch the infection and the bleeding. She could spray some antiseptic in it, slather some synth-skin and cover it with a spray bandage, which should have taken care of all of the nastiness that tended to come from being bitten by rotten teeth from a rabid animal. Or, apparently, a zombie spice addict. The problem, of course was that she'd have to do the whole thing while in horrific pain. Biting her lip, she reached behind her to pull her medpack out and start fighting against the mild discomfort of doing this in a toxic bathroom.

Within a few minutes of grunting and grumbling, she was at least able to walk, and walk she did. Straight out of the bathroom and the cantina, stopping only long enough to grab another smoke from the ground. When she got back to her ship, she'd be showering for hours, and she only held up doing exactly that to double back and pick up her three-thousand-credit rifle. It was, of course, covered in the remains of an ashtray. "Well, this has certainly become my favourite planet ever."
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
The legs of Steph Zenima could scarcely describe how done they were with everything, ever. Opting to tag along limply as the woman was essentially dragged off. The security detail were probably trying so very hard not to lose their lunches by the just the smell of her, they too would have to take all of the showers after handling her.

A woman spoke. Was it Yuna? Yino? Yina? It was definitely something with a Y. Hers tones were in general condescending and of a sharp scolding manner, even if the extremely fried brain of the woman couldn't quite unscramble the words.

Miss Zenima retaliated with another wave of nausea. A steam of projective vomit blasted Yannie...Yomi...right in the chest. The splash back produced by her assault of bodily fluids was in all fairness, extremely impressive. Why were there always carrots? Come rain or shine, vomit comes with carrots.

This was probably the reason that dearest Stephanie did not receive medical attention.

---

She awoke in a force cage.

Like having bran in your diet, this was one of the best ways to start the day. It wouldn't have been too insulting to assume the woman was half dog the way she was curled up on the floor. The mystery narcotics had long worn off and now pain tormented her entire body. Perhaps, upon reflection, vomiting upon that woman had been a poor judgement call.

Steph Zenima was human once again.

Whimpering in her cage, she refused to even budge an inch. The prospect of trying to move was a gargantuan mountain of a task. Hopefully this was just to be a case of a night in the cells, maybe a charge here or there, drunk and disorderly, destruction of property. Nothing major. Because if they knew who they had in their grasp. Well, let's just say it would have been the beginning of a terrible day.

@[member="Elizabeth Sunrider"]
 
Belle of the Brawl
Writer
A few hours, a luxurious bath, and a change of clothes later, Liz was grumbling from the passenger seat of a taxi on her way to the TSF holding cells, her comlink suffering the abuse of her own pissy mood. "My dearest Lieutenant," she managed to growl out in the most smooth, eloquent snarl that a human had ever uttered. "Do explain to me again - slowly, as you would to a child - why I'm currently going back to your backwater precinct to deal with that hell-child that bit me."

Yima chuckled over the comm. <"You know, Sunrider, I can actually hear your veins popping."> It was surprising that her comlink hadn't imploded from how hard she was gripping it now. <"You're still on duty today, and while I can't put you out on the beat with a gimpy leg, you've got some very convenient skills in this situation. What was that you said about free medical and less paperwork?">

Elizabeth sighed and leaned her head back, cutting her comm again. Yeah, she'd basically asked for that one. She'd lobbed it right over the plate, so she couldn't be irritated when Yima took a swing. Still, she wasn't pleased at all to be in the same room as the queen who'd bitten her earlier. Or who was about to swing a septic-covered hammer at her. Or who threw a blasted ashtray at her. An ashtray! Really!

So when she got out of the taxi, her expression wasn't nearly as sunny as her name would imply. She limped into the building, groaning a bit with each step and trying her hardest not to utter too many death threats and swears against deities. Not out of politeness, mind you. She simply didn't want to run out and risk unoriginality when she actually needed to threaten someone's life. This behavior continued unabated until she threw her field kit into the arms of one of the prison block guards and turned to glare at Yima. "You are so getting a bill."

The Telosian made a shooing motion, and Elizabeth glared before returning to work. She limped into the cell block, dragging two guards in by their collars, and pointed at the force cage occupied by a very nasty-looking creature. "Right. Power it down and make sure you keep your guns on that thing. It bites me again and you'll need to hire a maid to clean the blood off the floor."
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 
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