First Reply Skinless

[Fenn Stag]

Coruscant
22:37 Local Coruscant Time
Romi Jade Memorial Hospital

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Was supposed to be a simple job.

Smash, grab, extract with blackmail evidence.

Now, he was face-up in a hospital bed, beaten, bloody, drugged- and without his armor.

The lights came to him first-

Then the cavalcade of sound. Machinery. Voices. Aliens. Basic. Huttese. Everything else. He looked around, turning his head. He was in a bed. Not handcuffed. He could still move his hands- though everything was slow. Like a bad connection on a holocall. Everything felt behind. Just a few fraction of a seconds. Not fatigue, not wear. Drugged. He looked down more. His eyes, blue and sharp, looked, hard, down.

No armor. No weapons. Different clothes. Hospital-issued. Dark brown and grays. No shirt. Trauma indicators- bruising, contusions. IV lines. He looked up at the ceiling. He reached up and touched his face. No helmet, no gauntlets. No weapons on him at all. He sat up, and heard more voices outside. Words like 'awake' and 'he's' flooded his now-working ears. He turned his head towards the hallway, catching himself in the security cameras in the distance.

He sat up on the bed as the Doctor came in.

He'd probably be released- after a litany of questions he didn't know how to answer. Fenn did a lot, but he never lied to a Doctor. He told them the truth, as much as he remembered. He was supposed to extract after meeting someone on Level 981 about some evidence, take it, and handle the thugs that they reportedly brought with them to deal with the Black Sun. Some Corporate evidence for a Senator, if he remembered correctly. Someone to squeeze in the Republic. Or was it the Empire?

He couldn't remember. It wasn't his job to do that. It was his job to do the dirty work, not the smart work.

He spoke after a brief conversation with the Doctor-

"How long have I been out?" The reply was not welcome. He was brought in nearly 48 hours ago, give or take. He grimaced. A lot could happen in that time. Chief among the questions he had-

Where the hell was his gear? His armor, his weapons. His skin.

He stared at the wall. Someone had some explaining to do. Someone had to pay. And someone would. He sat up more, and took a deep breath. The Doctor wanted him to stay for observations, for more tests. Fenn was not going to have that. No, he had a mystery to solve, and people to hurt. That at this point, rightly deserved it.

​

---

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[Zandra Ruus]

People balked at seeing a Mandalorian in full armor just standing vigil in a hospital for ostensibly no reason, but Zandra had bigger things on her mind. One of her brethren was clinging to life in a hospital bed, that came first. The people of Coruscant were not her concern anymore. However, being on her former homeworld was a bit of a shock to the system. There were no better doctors though, everyone would come to a place like this if they could afford it...

"Don't move too fast Vod, it'll be easier on you if you just sit still for a bit."

It was with a small degree off irony that she spoke, Zandra did not handle being still well either. Then there was the issue of speaking to someone a few years her senior like he was some kid. He probably knew better than to thrash around, but instinct was instinct, fighters had to fight. It was commendable, if not a bit crazy.

"I know this is not how you'd like to wake up, but there's a lot I have to explain. Just sit back for a little while and I will tell you everything... Maybe together we can make sense of this whole mess..."

She wasn't sure how good Fenn's memory was, or if he could even really understand her, but she had to try. The black armored figure strode up to the bed and held out a hand, placing it on Fenn's shoulder. She wasn't the softest hand, but she could comfort a comrade when needed. Part of her wished she could remove her helmet, but her adherence to tradition forced her to remain fully armored.

"There was a fight, somewhere on the lower decks. More like a damn war, I found you covered in blood and surrounded by dead men. I knew I had to stim you, get you stable, bring you to the best damned doctors I knew to find. I don't know too much besides that..."

Fenn Stag

 

[Fenn Stag]

​

Sounds. Sounds formed into speech. Speech formed into words. Words formed into sentences, into thoughts, into questions, statements. They processed slowly. The sedatives he had been placed under, either when he first got here, or by the hospital were starting to wear off. Starting to. He sat up further on the bed, further and fully upright. He looked down at his arm- a beskar woven mechanical marvel. It was crafted by the best of the beskarsmiths, and looked remarkably similar to his still in-tact right arm. He wiggled his fingers in his mechanical arm, opening and closing his fist to test it. A little slow, but he knew that was because his mind was still slow.

Fenn had no idea who she was, and he didn't prescribe to her Crusader ideology. Not many did. The main reason he didn't- was because he slew Hakon Fett. Honorable combat, sure enough, but it was still a sore subject for him and Crusaders. Killing a champion of their cause was more likely to put you on a shitlist than a happylist.

He remembered a violent altercation. Lots more than just him. The memory was blurred, like looking underwater. He ran a hand through his hair, gaining more composure. He took a deep breath. His blue eyes moved over to her, slowly, like a predator scanning a field for a meal.

"Who are you?"

And more importantly- stripped of his armor, presumably not by her, how did she know he was a Mandalorian (albeit, not a very good one lately)?

Zandra Ruus

 

[Zandra Ruus]

Zandra didn't know how to really address the situation, there were a lot of things that were just too many things going on at once, for now, she'd answer his question directly. She owed him that at least, he was going to have a lot more most likely. One at the time, she'd do her best to illuminate the issue.

"Name's Zandra, I'm part of the Iron Covenant..." She had no idea if Fenn knew of The Covenant, but he would be made aware soon enough...

She sat down in a nearby chair, resting her helmeted head on her interlaced fingers. It was all she could do to show she was no threat. Her stance was as unguarded as she was comfortable being. She was guessing this whole time that he was a member of The Creed, it was just a guess though. What had lead her to find him was a signature on one of her scanners, one that registered as the systems of a Beskar'gam. It had lead her to Fenn, who had been fairly well stripped of his proverbial "Skin".

It was a terrifying prospect, losing one's Beskar to a bunch of thugs. It was like losing a precious, even sacred object, and to hands that could never truly respect it properly. Blissfully, she had never lost her Beskar'gam, but the mere idea of it made her anxious.

"As far as I can tell, you are one of us, Mandalorians that is. My sensors picked up your beskar, that's how I found you. By the time I got there though, all that was left of your 'gam was a gauntlet. I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner..."

Zandra picked up the gauntlet she'd spoken about, placing it gently on Fenn's bed. It wasn't much, but it was more than nothing. Still, she kicked herself for not getting there sooner. She could have at least salvaged more of the armor had she been faster. If not taken rendered some support and stopped the theft entirely.

No time to worry about what could have been though, there were much more pressing matters to attend to.

Fenn Stag

 

[Fenn Stag]

​

Zandra Ruus

"Hmph." Came the immediate reply when she mentioned the Iron Covenant. Whether that was confirmation he knew who they were and didn't approve, or just perhaps snarking at the name itself, remained to be seen.

She didn't seem a threat- but Fenn did. He was much like his clone template, Preliat, in that he never seemed to be relaxed. Constantly on edge, a living weapon. Like a coiled snake in a den- perhaps peaceful and quiet for the moment, but an animal, a killer, nonetheless. He picked up the gauntlet- one of his few possessions he cared about. Now sitting upright, Fenn began the arduous process of removing the IV fluid injectors that were plugged into him. Nightmares and flashbacks of clone tanks, glass and alien faces scanning, taking samples- skin, blood, hair for testing and analysis. Republic troopers training-

Not again- no, Fenn hated IV lines and fluids being pumped into him.

"I am a Mandalorian." A powerful statement, though, what kind- that was up in the air. The weakling Mandalorian Empire, the raging Mandalorian Crusaders, or the Jedi-loving and Sith-adjacent types that seemed to populate the galaxy like the spring grasses. He slipped a hand into the gauntlet- his right hand, his remaining biological arm finding it fitting to him like a true second skin. He curled his hands in it, before turning his head towards her. His feet found their way, finally enough strength to stand on his own. Drugs circulated through and out of his system, and he had to crane his neck to push away the blurriness in his vision.

"Get me out of here, please."

He had something to get back. Something to find. And-

People to hurt.