Pandemic

[Farah]

“I did?” Farah’s voice dipped as if she were offended. She wasn’t, just processing things. “I’m not even sure what I did.” It felt more like instinct than choice. But she didn’t…hate it. There was a measure of excitement in knowing that she could do something like that. It was like grabbing control of a deadly virus—you didn’t know how it worked but you were determined to find out and know everything about it. Conquer it. Make it your own.

It would take her a little longer to digest what Enyo had said, by then they were back on the move. Farah’s senses we heightened from her nerves, on the lookout in case they ran into more trouble.

“A chat about what?” She gripped her blaster, having retrieved it from the ground before leaving the alley. Farah had seen some gruesome dismemberment in trauma rooms and from…being a Zambrano. It usually didn’t make her stomach turn but whatever had happened back there made her a little uneasy. “About the mess I made?”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


"No, your abilities," Enyo responded gruffly. And your heritage, but she didn't mention that. She didn't give Farah any time to come to terms with the mess she'd made. Instead she stalked off, clearly expecting the Zeltron to follow her. Assuming she left the alley with the taciturn Cyborg, Farah would come across more dead bodies.


The stink of death was strong in the air. The concrete was stained with blood and interstines, the polluted air clogged by smoke. Fires were still burning in some of the buildings. Partly they had been laid by looters, partly caused by the Iron Fist's flamethrowers. Bodies were being piled up in a pyre.


"Burn them. Better safe than sorry," a tall, statuesque woman with pallid skin and scarlet hair ordered. Dressed in combat armour, her left eye was a sophisticated red scanner. "Take that lot away for questioning. Don't be gentle," she ordered some minions. Her eyes fell upon Enyo and Farah. This was Johanna Tyrone. There was a slight Corellian twang in her words.


"This place was always a sordid pisshole, but it was tolerable when you could have fun here," she remarked disdainfully. Her boot was on the throat of a thug. Much to her annoyance, the boot was soiled with ichor. "I see the lost kitten has been found. According to one of the miserable cretins we captured, they're with the Red Devils. They're not the brightest, but they got numbers. We can't hold ground and search the place."


"Let the gangs shoot each other until they've been decimated. Our priority is finding the culprits."


"There's two avenues for our investigation then. Checking the port terminal to determine recent entries and correlation with the start of the plague. If some desert rat imported the virus, they would entered recently, then been nabbed by whoever decided trying to create Gulag 2.0. would be a jolly time. Intel indicates the port is under heavy guard. That leaves the lab," her red eye glowed through her rebreather as the Cyborg spoke. Her hands were covered by black gloves.


"I can perform some recon to find the lab," Alexia interjected. "Then our two angles will match."


"You will go Alexia, Doctor. Alexia can search for information, question civilians. You analyse the medical findings. Alexia, take a squad with you. We stay in constant contact. Keep an eye open for oddly secured areas, people of a medical dispostion moving back and forth, strange deliveries. Avoid combat. Tyrone and I will check out the port. The rest of you will secure this position. If needs be, this is our fallback point."

 

[Farah]

“Oh.” It was all she could say on that matter. Farah instinctively wanted to discuss things now and get what she imagined to be an uncomfortable conversation over with, but that was definitely not happening. It took her a few quick steps to fall in line beside Enyo as she left the alley way.

Her nose wrinkled as they made their way back out on to Andromeda proper. The air smelt of death and decay, bodily fluids and burnt flesh that she could identify by smell alone. It never got any less pungent but usually she was running a trauma ward when these smells cropped up, not caught in a firefight between rival gangs.

Her attention wavered in and out of Enyo’s conversation with the redhead, snapping back to reality when she was summoned by name. Well, it wasn’t her name per se but Farah was the only doctor present. Curious eyes traveled over to the blonde indicated as Alexia and she nodded once.

“Sounds good.” Her voice was a bit listless with distraction from her previous outburst. Nevertheless, she took a step towards Alexia.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


Alexia produced a datapad and looked at it, absorbing the information. "I've acquired some detailed maps of the district, but there's a few black areas. They might be abandoned, might be criminal hideouts, or they might be what we're looking for. I've got a couple surveillance droids that can get some reading on them. I have a few prime candidates though. Shall we go, Doctor?"


xxx

"Any intel on the situation at the port and security there?" Enyo asked or rather demanded as she and Tyrone departed.

"It's been chaos, mostly. The riff-raff tried to storm it, gangs over fought it, bodies piled up. But then a force of goons we couldn't ID showed up. Professionals. Sealed armour, decent weapons. no emblems. I'm guessing private security contractor. They've taken over one of the shuttle bays the Cartel bigwigs used. It's locked down tight. Their arrival cannot be a coincidence."

"No. But they'll give us some answers. We infiltrate the area, find the terminal, make their leader talk and kill anyone who gets in our way."

Tyrone's lips curled into a malicious smile. Her red eye lit up at the prospect of bloodshed. "It's times like these I love my job. This will be fun. I can handle the slicing and get us into the system."

 

[Farah]

Precious information. Numbers, graphs, charts. Farah made no move to hide her peaking over Alexia’s shoulder towards the datapad screen. When you spent a good part of your life working in a lab, even being born in one, there was some comfort in raw data however strange it may be. But it was something that made sense to her, at least on one level.

Her eyes tracked along the map, eyeing the blacked out areas.

“No time to waste, then.” She murmured before turning to the blonde. “Don’t want those….” She flicked her hand in a vague gesture. “…guys coming back.” She hadn’t cared for them.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


"It's kill or be killed," Alexia said brusqely. She was almost as taciturn as her sister Enyo. If Farah had run into the [member="Amara Zarides"], she would have gotten witty banter with a far more talkative blonde with a penchant for bad jokes. Sadly, Alexia's 'twin' was not here. Maybe another time.


Anyhow, the pair and their goon escort began making their way through the slums. The goons moved as soldiers would, quietly, sticking to the shadows and taking care of their environment. They did so for a while without running into anyone, until they heard noise.


The point man bid them to halt, having heard the noise before anyone else due to his sophisticated ear implant. Heeding the Devaronian cyborg, the group sought cover as the convoy sped past them. Peeking out, Alexia saw that the vehicles had come to a halt not far from them.


A few trucks and armoured speeders, to be precise. These were guarded by armed goons. Most of them wore symbols that identified them as common gangers, right down to their arrogant swagger and 'I'm so awesome because I have a blaster' attitude. However, some looked like professional soldiers, wearing black body armour and gas masks. Wails could be heard coming from inside some of the vehicles.


"Our first lead. We need intel," Alexia surmised, giving Farah a quick one-over. "You're pretty. That make fools get loose tongues. We chat some up, see what they know. I plant a tracer. Rest of you, stay in cover. Only fire if I give the signal," she passed her sniper rifle to the Devaronian, who in turn handed her a tracking device.

 

[Farah]

Farah grunted.

“I figured that one out quickly, thank you.” And abruptly. And unpleasantly. Like her template, Farah did not particularly delight in gruesome combat. Hopefully she would learn to just…deal with it. You sort of had to when you rolled with Sith at least part time.

She wasn’t exactly thrilled with their location and hadn’t been for practically the entire time. But at least they were moving quickly and had a goal in mind. Things tended to move much slower when it came to medical discoveries due to regulations and ethical barriers. She didn’t imagine that this district saw much in the way of administrative red tape when it came to day to day operations.

Her eyes tracked to the armed soldiers, then the muffled cries from within durasteel armored trucks.

“…Alright.” She muttered, giving Alexia an odd look when she’d called her pretty. Oh, Farah was aware of what she looked like. It was just that she didn’t do such a good job at being…pleasant. At least not to the point where she could extract information. When she wanted something at the hospital—a surgery, a cool case—she didn’t use her Zeltron “charms” to try and procure it. She turned into a shark.

Sleeping with your superiors to get an upper hand was all well and good but it didn’t earn you respect among other surgeons—especially as a young Zeltron. She had enough doubtful looks to deal with, thank you.

“I can try but I make no promises.” She paused. “I’m not exactly charming for a Zeltron.”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


Alexia was about to say something deeply racist and bigoted. Probably something along the lines of 'you're a Zeltron'. But she held her tongue, though she definitely thought it. She was not fond of aliens. Mind you, at least Farah belonged to a species that looked human and behaved itself, but still.


As they moved closer to the convoy, she thought quickly. Appearing out of nowhere could easily seem...suspicious. Enyo would not tolerate mistakes. Or be pleased if something happened to the girl who looked like the Zeltron she sometimes called upon due to her expertise in...mentalism. A wave of despair and fear emanated from inside the vehicles. She winced when it hit her, but moved onward nonetheless. "Act drunk. Keep them occupied a few moments," she amended her earlier order, giving Farah a bit of a push that would help make it look like she was just stumbling out.


"Hey, what's going on there. Halt," one of the armed gangers snarled. As Alexia laid eyes upon this...creature, she found all her scathing thoughts about aliens confirmed, for its lipless face, with a frill along each of its jowels, and and its thick leathery brown skin marked it as as a Weequay. It looked absolutely disgusting.

 

[Farah]

Farah gawked. She was here as a doctor, not some street hussy who couldn’t hold her liquor. For all of her rash and radical decisions, the Zeltron was good at separating work from pleasure.

The distraught aura from the armored vehicles drifted into her Zeltron Empathy senses and she frowned, not exactly loving this idea for a multitude of reasons. She opened her mouth and an indignant tone came out.

“You want me to wh—“

She stumbled slightly from the push, straightening as she looked ready to give the blonde a piece of her mind then…froze. She was already out in the open, they’d seen her and some gross looking dude had grunted for her to stop.

Before that though, Farah turned around to face away from them and lightly slapped the cheeks of her face a few times to mimic a flush. To them, perhaps it would look like an inebriated woman rubbing her face as she tried to collect herself. Farah drew in a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“Like, oh my godddddduhhhhh.” She stumbled in a bit of an exaggerated manner and giggled. Farah never giggled. “I am drunk.”

She gave them a ditzy smile.

“Like, um, really so drunk. Soooooo wasted. Haha.” She stumbled closer, wary of their weapons but trying not to show it. “Um, can you help me like…cab a find?” Then she giggled again at her own mistake and fluttered her lashes.

This was as convincing as she would get.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


"Wasted, huh?" the one spoke in a most leecherous tone. "Wasted girl shouldn't be out here all alone. I could make you feel a lot better and sober you up." He probably also had a stereotypical accent. One hand remained on his gun, the other reached for the Zeltron.


"Get lost, girl," the Weequay barked, looking unconvinced by her acting abilities. "Unless you want to be made a head shorter." His blaster rifle was still raised, as if to empathise the point. "And you shut up, we're on a schedule," he growled at the pervy thug.


"Put her in the truck with the others," one thug suggested, eying Farah.


And where was Alexia in all this? After pushing Farah towards the goons, she'd vanished from sight. This was to be understood quite literally, for she'd made use of her cloaking device. Shrouded by a cloak of invisiblity, with only an oscillation effect remaining, she snuck towards one of the large armoured vehicles. She just needed a few seconds.


The distraught aura coming from inside the armoured vehicles grew stronger. To an empath, especially one with little control, it might feel having a hammer applied to your skull. It was a deafening orchestra of fear, terror and desperation. Help, help, help!


Meanwhile, Enyo and Tyrone were closing in on the hangar...

 

[Farah]

It was working. By some sheer miracle, Farah’s terrible acting seemed to convince at least some of the thugs that she was good and inebriated. Briefly she wondered if Alexia had dosed them with some sort of aerosolized drug to make them dumber.

As one of the goons made haste towards her, Farah wobbled back on instinct.

“Uhh, maybe like….no thanks yeah? I don’t like trucks.” She place a hand on her stomach and pretended to fight back bile. “I get like, reallllly super car sick. You don’t want me in there.”

She could have “run away” at this point but she still wanted to keep their attention, not knowing whether they would pursue or just shrug and leave a fleeing Zeltron alone. She didn’t want to screw this up so she persisted, pulling away just a little, just enough to hopefully keep the bait still on the string.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


There was something about violence that excited Tyrone. Any time she was in a fight, it stirred something inside her. Something primal and animalistic. A good kill - now that was art. She felt something like a rush inside her, a howl of exaltation. Such as now.

The mercenary on patrol did not see her coming, for her cloaking device covered her in a shroud. It did not silence her steps; her training did that. Too late did he realise what was coming for him as her cloak dissipated, she grabbed him and her vibroknife drew a bloody line across his neck joint. Her knife was stained red as she slashed his throat.


Contrary to the common depiction in holovids, a slashed throat did not cause instant death. Indeed, it was quite a horrible way to die, for it was quite slow. Unless all carotid arteries were severed. Tyrone had not bothered doing that. She left the victim to drown in his own blood. She liked the noises he made. The knife's blade happened to be coated in a nasty venom.


Letting the dying mercenary drop, she withdrew her knife and flung it into the neck of a companion. Her other hand retrieved her pistol and fired quick and precise shots. Muzzle flashes shattered reflective masks. One trooper, caught in the knee and went down. Howling in pain, he returned fire and tried to activate his comm. "Patrol 3..."


The Force surged through his comm device and there was only static. Then there was a barely audible CRACK when a shatterpistol's pellet penetrated his chestplate and pierced his lung. He went down with a collapsed lung. He was put out of his misery when Enyo stepped out of the darkness and fired once more, shooting him in the head. No words passed between her and Tyrone. The hangar loomed ahead of them.


xxx


"I think we do," a mercenary snarled. This one was a large Nikto and the closest to Farah, out of all the thugs and mercs. As he spoke, he lunged towards her and tried to grab her, moving with surprising speed for a man so large. Clearly at least some of the mercenaries did not want to part with the Zeltron so soon...


Meanwhile, Alexia had gotten close to the truck. Crouching, she snuck beneath it and planted the tracer, making sure everything was in order. Get away, she whispered into Farah's mind. Hopefully the Zeltron would get the hint and be able to detach herself from grabby hands without too much trouble.

 

[Farah]

Farah’s muscles tensed and she cringed, instinctively dropping all drunken pretext as the scaly man with facial horns dove towards her. Though she was neither small nor large for a Zeltron, he dwarfed her figure both in height and girth.

“Ugh!” She ground out, teeth gritting and eyes flaring with adrenaline as he managed to grasp her arm. His grip was like a vice squeezing her limb and that information made its way to her brain and integrated into her assessment of the situation at light speed.

Something was telling her to run. There was no time to stop and ponder what the hell was wrong with her today—from what she’d done in the alley way to hearing voices—so she assumed that this was all running off instinct. It was a rare event for her, really. To be in combat like this. Still, she thrived in situations where she had to think on her feet. Came with the territory when you were running the Emergency Room or the patient you were operating on started to bleed in three places. What do you repair first? How do you prioritize chaos? No thinking, just reactions.

Usually her solutions were more elegant that lashing out and biting the Nikto’s arm with the force of an angry rancor. Okay, even adrenaline couldn’t do that but she’d broken the leathery skin and made him bleed. That much she could tell by the pained howl of surprise.

His grip had invariably loosened and Farah took off, one hand over her bleeding mouth.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


Behind them lay a couple dead bodies. Ahead of them lay the hangar door. Crouching, Tyrone slipped an optic cable through the aforementioned door. Peeking under the door, she scanned the area, before looking back up to Enyo. Rather than exchange words and risk being overheard, she communicated her findings via hand signals. She raised all her fingers, lowered, then raised them again. That meant twenty guards. At least, she communicated electronically. Plan, Boss?

Go high. Drop gas grenades through the vents. I'll go through the front door, Enyo responded.

On it.

xxx

Unenlightened spirits considered biting a dishonourable tactic. Such individuals had yet to appreciate the value of pragmatism. Viciously, Farah sunk her teeth into the surprised Nikto's arm. Yummy. She broke skin and blood seeped from where she'd bitten. A pained howl escaped his throat and his grip loosened, allowing her to escape.


However, his pain fuelled his anger and he fired his gun, which happened to be a sonic pistol. She'd bitten him, so the least he could do was burst her eardrums. Furthermore, blaster bolts came flying her way as other goons opened fire upon her. Laser beams pierced the night's sky, illuminating the street and casting it in crimson light. Amidst the commotion, the large truck began to move.


Frak it, Alexia swore, just about managing to roll away before the truck could run her over. The aura of fear and terror from the many beings held inside the truck hit her like a brick wall. A feeling of nausea overcame her and her head throbbed painfully. She needed to get out of here before she was spotted or got caught in the crossfire.

 

[Farah]

Fight or flight happened in two stages. First fight, then flight. Farah wasn’t foolhardy enough to try and take on a bunch of armed gangster, especially without knowing how to use her own powers. Maybe if they had been in a science fair competition she’d be a little more confident in her abilities.

Couldn’t outrun a sonic wave, though. Farah let out a shriek as her eardrums ruptured from the high frequency, clattering to the ground from the sudden burst of pain. The headache she had increased tenfold and the sounds around her became fuzzy and distorted, heavily muffled as if she were wearing military grade ear protection.

A blaster bolt lanced some nearby piping, steam escaping rapidly and flooding the street. This gave her the chance to scramble upwards, body in a strange mode of “owowowow” and “run because your survival depends on it”.

She booked it as quickly as she could, darting through the maze of alleys and side streets but not before a shot buried itself into her shoulder. Farah bit her own hand to keep from crying out and giving away her relative position though tears of pain welled up at the corners of her eyes. This was the most desperate situation she’d ever been in—even her mission with the Sith had been more clinically focused, and when she went into the field there was typically and escort or two.

Her back rested against the cool duracrete, heart pounding and chest heaving. Her hand was still in her mouth, teeth clamping down on her own skin a little less but still firmly enough. Her mouth and nose were bloodied, her other arm was slack from the blaster wound and crimson leaked from both ears and onto her hair. At a loss for what to do, Farah concentrated on extending what she could of her Force senses outward—not like she could hear anyone if they were coming.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


Fight or Flight. Both were natural reactions. Alexia chose flight as the situation went south.The truck and a collection of speeders were racing away, some of the mercenaries were blazing away with their guns, while others spread out, scouring the alleys. The sky was bathed in multi-coloured laser beams that pierced the darkness. A pipe was busted and a stream of steam escaped, providing some cover. The clone gave her escort a silent ping, alerting them, though all the gunfire had probably done that.


Still feeling a bit nauseous, Alexia willed herself to move quickly. Fortunately for her, it seemed the mercenaries were focusing on the escaping Farah. She could make it. Taking advantage of their distraction, she arose and bolted. Running bore the risk of weakening the cloak of invisiblity, she was well-trained in the use of the cloaking device and the thugs were occupied...


Then there was pain. Painful burns scorched her flesh and she was momentarily robbed of vision. How had this come to pass? A grenade launcher wielded by one of the mercenaries had vomitted a flash grenade. Boom. Perhaps the mercenary had picked up on the slight oscillation in the air, perhaps her hasty movements had caused some oddities in the thick cloud of steam. Or he simply wanted some illumination. Either way, the flash round detonated close enough for the young acolyte to be affected.


So she fell. The burns stung and she could not see. It made her flesh smell a bit cooked. Pain shot through her as a hot shard of shrapnel buried itself in a shoulder. The pain made her angry. She could not see, but hear noise. The sound caused by boots thumping against the pavement. Acting on pure instinct, she reached out and wrapped the Force around the throat of the closest goon. He began to choke. Paralysed, his face reddened, and Alexia stumbled down an alley, letting the Force guide her where her eyes would not. Dimly she could sense that Alexia had to be close. Her minions seemed to be in motion.


A number of presences were closing in on the area where Farah had hid, or moving in the general direction at any rate. While her hearing was out of commission, Farah would probably be able to sense them through the Force. But were they the mean mercenaries who'd shot at her, Alexia's goons or both?


xxx

"Patrol 3 here. We took out an Iron Fist scouting unit. One of the swines talked before I shot him. I've got to see the commander right away," Enyo spoke, but it was not her voice. Rather it was that of the guard she'd killed earlier when she and Tyrone slaughtered him and his buddies. Thanks to her armour's holographic disguise suite, she even looked like him. Slowly, the door opened...

 

[Farah]

Farah wasn’t in great shape. Certainly not in any shape to operate, which was generally her main concern. Overtired and overcaffeinated? She could deal with that. Blaster wounds and ruptured ear drums? She’d have trouble hearing the monitors.

Right now she was relying heavily on the Force, extending her senses as far as they could go while her brain was firing in all directions. It was difficult with everything that was going on—and while she wasn’t at anywhere near her best, one of her few good features was that she knew how to stay relatively calm in an emergency.

The blood pooling in her ears made her dizzy, sending the Zeltron into a nasty spell of vertigo. She gasped as everything suddenly shifted, hunching against the wall that she tried to grab onto for stability. Whoever was approaching, she couldn’t tell if they were friend or foe. I her mind though, they were all foes. They had to be, right?

That was what she was banking on as she shakily extended both hands outwards, throwing herself forward as she sent a desperate wave of Force strong enough to knock whoever was coming towards her down like bowling pins. It was short but strong, a culmination of her last vestiges of energy. Farah collapsed, chin scraping the ground as she faded in and out of consciousness.

The tension didn’t fade from her jaw just yet, teeth still grit tightly.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


The shrapnel stung, the burns pained and she had trouble seeing. She could hear noise coming from behind her. She picked up the pace. Alexia could sense Farah was close...then a telekinetic wave rippled towards her. She braced herself, and was knocked down like a bowling pin. Ouch. Blood dripped from her chin and she felt like something had knocked the wind out of her. She'd also hit her head against something hard. Anger surged through her. Enyo would be pissed.


"There they are!" she heard a loud yell, as boots thumped against the alley's pavement. A mercenary goon, clad in black body armour, stood above her, rifle aimed towards them. Sensing him through the Force, she gave the thug a hard kick, and as he staggered slashed at his foot with her lightsabre.


The stench of burnt flesh filled the air, and he was left with one foot. She was upon him, intent on finishing him off. But the mercenary was not witless and rather than yield or panic, he raised his gauntlet. A beam shot out of a concealed weapon. Deflection failed, for not only was her vision impaired, it was also a Ssi-Ruuvi paddle beamer weapon in wrist form. Suddenly her shoulder was paralysed and she could no longer move her right arm. Another mercenary kicked her in the face with his heacy boot. She was dazed and bleeding.


CRACK CRACK CRACK The mercenaries left standing fell to the ground like empty sacks of potatoes. The maimed, one-footed mercenary tried to drag himself away, but one of the Cyborg shooters, a Trandoshan emerged from cover. Ramming his foot into the stump, he threw his full body weight against the mercenary. The goon screamed and the lizardman ended his misery by blowing his brains out.


xxx


The doors opened. Heavily armed soldiers greeted her. Still in disguise, Enyo stepped inside. Then gas flooded the hangar through the vents. In the confusion, she thrust the tip of her blade into the abdomen of the first soldier, spearing him. The stab left a hole and cauterised flesh. Mechu-deru manipulated the door controls, causing it to slam shut.


The mercenary fell to the ground and she advanced. Some mercenaries were taken out of commission by the gas, having neglected to seal their armour. They were left choking, vomitting or with burning lungs and eyes. But others had been smarter, sought cover and rained down a hailstorm upon her. Seeing her lightsabre, they sought to surround and attack her from several sides.


Blaster bolts were deflected as they bounced off her lightsabre and were sent back to their shooters. But others scorched her armour, whilst some high-velocity slugthrower bullets cracked it outright. Undaunted, she pulled a grenade from her utility belt and willed the Force to guide it into the fray. Being an adhesive grenade, the detonation covered the affected ground in a sticky substance, leaving a number of soldiers frozen in the glop. Then she stretched out with the Force and killed the lights.

 

[Farah]

Alexia’s arrival tickled the edge of her senses as she faded like a bulb about to go out. Much of the sound from the scuffle had been lost on her, and thankfully the smell of charred flesh didn’t cause her stomach to churn. Some scents she was used to.

But it did cause her to stir a little more and urge her back towards the world of the conscious for a little bit. Enough for her to regain some sense of what was going on and fight the blackout, hand shakily shifting through a pocket sewn on the inside of her lab coat. The stim she retrieved was promptly jabbed into her thigh with what remained of her strength, the drug inside taking only a few minutes to allow her to start to move about again.

Though exhausted, the adrenaline in the syringe would help to jump start her system, bacta repairing some of the internal damage in the meantime so that she wouldn’t bottom out. Once she became more aware, Farah scanned the makeshift battleground that was the alleyway. Blood dribbled from her ears and at the corners of her lips but the flow had been stemmed for now. Her face was scraped, bruised as was her torso from the fall. Teeth were also loose, evident as she spat one out onto the ground.

She pocketed it, sitting upwards to assess the situation. The fighting had abruptly stopped which likely meant that the gangsters were their own. Which was a weird thing for her to think about, but still.

She hobbled her way over to Alexia, collapsing onto her knees heavily to take inventory of the damage.

Both hands came to cup the woman’s face, thumbs gently shifting her eyelids upwards to check her pupils. Thankfully neither were blown. “Can you wiggle your fingers and toes for me?” She murmured, likely on instinct.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

At this point, Alexia was not in good shape. Her sight was slowly returning, but it was still difficult to see with one eye. She was bleeding and in pain from the burns inflicted by the flashbang. Moreover, she could not move one arm.


Dazed and in pain, she suddenly made out Farah looming above her. The fact that she needed help made the clone more than a little angry. "What," she exclaimed, still regaining her bearings. To her credit, confusion soon gave way to understanding. "You bloody hit me," she sounded more than a little grumpy about this.


Regardless, she managed to wiggle her toes and fingers. But the fingers attached to her right hand were barely responsive, courtesy of the mercenary's Ssi-Ruuvi paddle beamer. The weapon was ridiculously named, but effective. "I can't feel my right arm," she sounded agitated. "You there, can you track the tracer's signal?" she demanded from a minion.


[member="Farah"]