The Woeful Tale of an Unfortunate Mugger, or: Stupid Girl for Fun and Profit

[Fable Merrill]

((Caveat emptor, reader, this was started on and presumably will be finished via Skype. Post quality may be low.))

Was she lost? Stars yes. Very, very lost. Sent from the lab on a training excursion/errand, Fable had managed to make her delivery on time, as a good girl should. But her return trip had gotten waylaid by pirates and knocked off course. It could have gotten much worse than puttering a half-broken shuttle into a waystation for repairs, but Fable's chauffeur had decided she was sick of the sad little shadow following her around and had abandoned the job in favour of more lucrative gains.

Which left Fable more or less trapped until she could figure out how to work up the nerve to charter a ride. She was barely coming to terms with how many people there WERE, and how different they all looked! How could she be expected to talk to one?! She'd only ever spoken to a handful of outsiders, and variations of herself. The idea was simply too intimidating. She needed time to marshal her nerve and -

A hand grabbed her arm and yanked the waif into the small gasp between bulkheads. "Boogta no chooti, wanna ma gorta!" A fly-faced thing snarled, looming over a terrified Fable. He was just speaking his strange nonsense language, but the vibroknife in his hand filled in any gaps.

Heart racing, head pounding, Fable pulled at her arm and thrashed against the Rodian's grip. If she could make it out of the shadows, if she could calm down, things might be alright... .

 

[Fabula Caromed]

There were a great many stations for quick stops and refills in the galaxy. Some were pretty, well-kept, and had the big "Silk Holdings" sign over each entrance. Others were this dump. Fabula really wasn't paying attention to where she was going when she charted her travels, and largely just stopped at the closest station whenever she needed a refill after whatever remote (as in nowhere remotely near civilization) star system she'd been living on for X amount of time.

Even so, she did well enough for herself. She didn't carry enough money to be worth robbing, she could speak enough Huttese to facilitate basic trade, and she had a disturbing lack of trust for someone who was so charitable. The lightsabers in plain view of everyone around her didn't hurt either. She had nothing to fear from a bunch of outlaws; the worst they could do was shoot her, and since when did that ever do more than slow her down?

As she finished up with parting with a few of her credits to secure a few months' worth of nutrient paste and fuel from an outfitter, however, she noticed someone having a bit more trouble. Fabula bowed her head slightly and muttered an apology to the reptilian trader she was speaking with then, on a whim, marched undaunted up to the spectacle.

If she'd even seen that the girl in front of her was a carbon copy of herself, she hadn't bothered to take note of it. She saw a child and a knife, and that was all of the information she needed. Without anything remotely resembling hesitation, she strode up to the green-skinned man and placed her hand on his wrist, gripping securely but not yet tightly.

"I know this is very forward of me, but you are quite obviously distressing this girl. Please let go of her now, before I have to break your wrist." Her voice was eerily calm. Her eyes looked either bored, tired, or dead. Her grip seemed to be made of industrial-grade durasteel, and she hadn't even touched a lightsaber yet. Apparently, Fabula was spamming her taunt key in an attempt to draw aggro.

 

[Fable Merrill]

The Rodian tugged at her grip impotently, before curling his snout in an effecation of a sneer. "Pohka nena hardu, Force-queen."

Fabula was a trained warrior - a tactic as simple as an ambush by a handful of street thugs was elementary. A road bump, shifting an encounter from a single threat to the prefect time to have Great Cleave. But when five raggedy-looking Rodians stepped out of the shadows to enforce the mammal tax, Fable panicked and managed to thrash her arm free of grip.

One of the Rodians, a dour-looking fellow with dull green skin, drew a blaster and lunged for Fabula's saber pouch. He never made it.

Just over a hundred pounds of panic-fuelled clone slammed into him, all howling fury and whirling fists. Fable had his proboscis in one hand, the other pounding and clawing at big bug-like eyes and face.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Deadly calm. Fabula took a deep breat, the air rushing through her lungs simply to fuel the inner fire of her perfect self. She was silent, but the man whose wrist she had grabbed was not. A half-second after she started to warm herself up, his bones snapped like so many fresh green beans. His scream was loud but abrupt, as Fabula had finished her meditation, and quickly cut him off with a snap of the ridge of her hand into his throat. Hard enough to choke him, not hard enough to break his neck.

Less than a full heartbeat later, she was in motion. She hurtled like a slug from a gun towards the closest Rodian to the girl she'd just stepped forward to defend. A single jab sent him reeling, and a follow-up hook knocked him from his feet. Not losing her momentum, Fabs rolled into a quick turn to one side and caught another alien in the jaw with her sneaker. He went flying a good five feet before cracking his skull against a bulkhead.

The last two were at least smart enough to pull blasters. Why the others hadn't was something Fabula would muse on later. At the moment, she needed to prepare. Pulling her jacket closer around her body, she bolted forward into the gunfire. Two or three blaster bolts were summarily reflected off of the cured hide of Lotek'k, and that bought her enough time to grab each of the weapons securely.

One blaster in each of her hands, the Matukai warrior clenched down harder, metal and sparks and tibanna gas flying everywhere as she shattered two blasters in one movement. The remaining Rodians were properly self-preserving and booked it.

Fabula sighed and rolled her shoulders a bit. It'd been at least a couple of days since she'd had a workout. Her muscles were getting a little stiff. 'Now time for the girl.'

 

[Fable Merrill]

About the time that his friends had left him, the Rodian got a surge of pain-induced panic and managed to throw the lambrey-like girl doing her best to destroy his face. Fable slammed into a wall, taking with her a not-inconsiderable chunk of green skin clenched between her teeth. She'd managed to gouge out one of the fellow's eyes and rip his scalp to shreds. The Rodian took the wiser course, and turned to run for his life.

Filled with naught but blind fury, Fable lunged after him! He'd attacked her! He'd HURT her! Bouncing up as though a full-grown thug hadn't just spiked her against a durasteel wall, she barely missed grabbing his coat and gave a howl of frustration before hauling ass after him.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Aaaand didn't make it terribly far. Fable's body may have moved faster than a girl her age should have been capable of, but it was a good bet that Fabula was slightly faster. With Force-assisted speed, she grabbed the girl by the collar of her shirt, yanking her back in a single motion.

Now, if she had been a competent Force user, Fabs probably could have harmlessly put her to sleep. As she was not, she instead grabbed the girl's arms, forced them together, and held them fast. She at least kneeled to make the whole process a bit less straining on the poor dear, but once again, her grip was durasteel.

 

[Fable Merrill]

Captured! Caught! Writhing in fury, the lean girl kicked and lashed with whatever she could to HURT her captor. But even the most dedicated headbutts didn't find contact. After a long couple minutes of thrashing and seething, Fable slowed... And then stopped. Her frame went slightly limp, she hung her head, her body language shifted quickly to non-combative.

Fable hadn't passed out. She'd simply given up and calmed down over time. Mumbling a hoarse apology, the lean young woman took a shuddering breath, trying to calm the frazzled, frayed nerves that screamed panic and death directly into the echo-chamber of her stupid, stupid skull.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Fabula had held actual animals against their will before. She'd subdued monstrous beasts on Vendaxa and Felucia, wrestled wampas on Hoth...this girl's struggles were surprisingly savage, but the wanderer's grip didn't abate even slightly. She finally relaxed when her quarry stopped struggling, and tried to offer a soft pat on her wrists (as they were now likely rubbed raw).

Fabs' expression remained impassive as she picked the poor girl up in a bridal carry and walked back over to the man she had been doing business with. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience. Please ensure the supplies we discussed are delivered to my ship. I'll accept them after I wire you the credits."

The lizard-man just nodded, a little too eager to get these madwomen out of his sight as quickly as he could.

Fabula didn't exactly wait for him to nod, though. She was already walking away, girl in tow. "I'm sorry I was so rough with you there, but there was a very good chance that he was running for more help. You could easily have gotten yourself killed, and I simply couldn't allow that." Her voice was just as soft as ever, quiet and mousy even though she'd just finished wiping the floor with half a dozen people in just under ten seconds.

 

[Fable Merrill]

Now she could feel pain. Her head ached from the throw, her biceps and neck hurt from being restrained. Her mouth tasted like blood, and mostly not her own. Her wrists were sore and chafed. It wasn't unlike her uncommon seizures in most ways, but the dull, throbbing, overloaded static in the back of her mind signalled the abrupt loss of adrenaline. She'd lost her Temper again.

Folding her arms over her chest, hands on either side of her face, Fable nodded weakly and kept her eyes closed. With her luck, this woman was sec or something and she was going... away. Back to cells. A scary thought, but at least the world made sense in a cell. Nobody ambushed you, or tried to chat with you.

"...thank you for stopping me." The waif croaked. Ye Force, how much screaming had she -done-?! "I'm sorry if I hurt you, miss. I didn't mean to. I... I can reimburse you for any damage."

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Her pace undisturbed on her way back to her ship, Fabula nonetheless felt herself giggle. Now that was uncommon. She only relaxed that much around Alna. Of course, she also realized that that was an odd reaction. "I'm sorry. No, you didn't hurt me. You did slightly less damage than being shot by two blasters." Which was none at all. Turned out that jacket was pretty good.

As she kept walking back to the Pilgrim, through corridors and hallways of a half-dark station, she looked down at the tiny creature in her arms. Now that she thought about it, she did look...familiar. Someone important to her. ...Family? No, that was ridiculous. Fabula didn't have family. She rolled her shoulders a little, but didn't disturb the girl in her arms.

"So who-" And she stopped. Right, proper introductions. It's rude to ask someone about themselves without at least telling them your name first. Stupid girl. "I'm sorry, I'm already getting ahead of myself. My name's Fabula. Can I ask yours?" Her smile was out in full force now. Soft and warm, like a mother holding her child.

 

[Fable Merrill]

People built up tolerances. Tolerances to pain, to tragedy, to loss... And to warmth. Fable had nearly none of the latter, and it showed: she locked up like a jack-lit mynock, nervously twirling her long bangs around one finger. A person has asked you a question, moron. Put your stupid mouth to use and answer her.

"I... I should have introduced myself earlier. I'm sorry." Fable mumbled, withering in the glow of that smile, unsure how to react to it. "I'm called - erm. That is, my name is Fable." She'd nearly listed her designation out of habit. Real people didn't have names like C-A 5, though.

Real people might have found it strange for a teenager to be carried around by a woman she'd just met, too, but Fable wasn't yet perceptive enough to realize that. She felt safe and warm, despite how sore she was. No reason to move.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Smile unabated, Fabula walked through the automatic doors to the hangar she'd landed in. "That's a pretty name, Fable. It fits you well." Walking through through the second airlock, she paused a moment to divert her attention away towards her old, beat-up ship. It was very much like coming home, and it totally suited Fabula that her home was a busted up steel box with an ion engine.

"You're welcome to go back to the station," the woman said off-handedly before turning her attention back down to the mass of quivering uncertainty in her arms. "But I think you'd feel a little more welcome here. It's small, but lived-in and loved-on."

 

[Fable Merrill]

Compliments. Welcomes. This was a strange place to be. "I... I..." Fable stammered twisting her hair around her fingers nearly enough to pull it out of her scalp. Twist and pull. Twist and pull. Hands had to be busy, had to keep them busy. Keep talking, Fable, even you've got enough brains to talk and tweak out at the same time.

"...I'm stranded here!" Fable finally exclaimed, rather loudly. Volume! Idiot! She clamped her hands over her mouth immediately, eyes wide in shock. "ImsosorryI didn't mean to yell..."

 

[Fabula Caromed]

The way she was squirming it was like someone was about to stick a needle in her. When the poor girl eventually found words, Fabula's smile drooped just for a moment before coming back full force. "Well I'm sorry, but that's not true." She resumed walking towards her ship, undaunted by a small bundle of nerves writhing about in her arms. "You were stranded."

As Fabula approached her ship, the Bloody Pilgrim squawked once. Voice recognition software. It would only respond to her voice (or Lynn's, or Alna's) and only when saying a specific phrase. She'd splurged on a more convenient security system after the Cauldron. Clearing her throat a bit, she spoke clearly, but not loudly. "Miye hca."

And just like that, the boarding ramp hissed down in front of her. In the same manner, Fabula set Fable back down on the floor, giving her plenty of time to find her footing. "My door is always open. If you want to come inside, please feel welcome. I've mostly just got nutrient paste, but it's warm and quiet, and I keep some incense burning most of the time."

 

[Fable Merrill]

Fable hesitated at the doorway, turning thoughts over in her mind. Was this a trick? A trap? The Force? She was almost... disappointed to be set down, and that was a new feeling. Fable hadn't felt comforted by anyone since... darker times, to be sure. Glancing from the apparently saintlike, invincible woman who'd saved her life to the unknown at the top of that ramp, Fable slowed hard. Of course she isn't your friend, idiot. She just met you, and you're not even likeable. She likely just thinks you're an easy paycheck.

Such thoughts were discouraging, especially since they felt true. But they did help her to find her words and so trying to pull her hair apart. "I... I have some credits for the trip, miss Fabula." Fable promised. "I can compensate you f-for your trouble."

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Fabula was already walking up into her ship by the time Fable spoke again, but all the same she turned around and blinked as if confused. After a second, she realized that there might have been a miscommunication. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give the impression that I'm running a freight service."

She pulled off her jacket as she got back into her ship, a dramatic motion that resulted in a spectacle as her constrained bust fought its way out of the zipper. While she hung it up, she turned back to Fable. "I'm offering you a ride to wherever it is you need to go. What you do with your money is none of my concern."

Walking away from the door, Fabs made her way to the kitchenette in her ship's main hold. She'd just bought a whole mess of paste, so she could properly have a snack now rather than hoarding it like she'd been doing. The Force provides, but even with meditation you can only push your body so far before it revolts.

She left the door open intentionally. After all, even if Fable chose to run back into the station, Fabs would need the door open to accept her supplies when they arrived.

 

[Fable Merrill]

What a dramatic turn! Fabula sparked like a goddess, heading into the belly of the Pilgrim. And just like that, Fable's feet had made up what her mind hadn't decided. The slim young woman trotted after her near-duplicate before she knew she wanted to. "W-wait!"

Making a wrong turn past the cargo hold, Fable caught up to Fabs in the kitchenette. "Miss, why... why would you help me like that?" Fable gasped, before gathering herself and standing upright. Almost at attention. "Please, allow me to c-contribute!"

 

[Fabula Caromed]

The main hold of Fabula's crappy old CEC-95 "Vector" was more akin to a living room. She had a comfortable couch made of wood and properly worn-in cusions bolted to one side with a recessed table in the floor. The table was currently un-recessed, thus leaving the holonet console up and active with some nature documentary playing. The different walls had a few old paintings and posters she'd picked up stuck to them with adhesive, and the kitchenette was so modest as to be more like a counter top with a few dishes and a minifridge. In the middle of the room was a huge, fluffy maroon rug.

Fabula notably avoided walking on that rug, because she obviously still had shoes on. Instead, she kept to the edges with a couple of tubes of nutrient paste in her hands. "Absolutely. I need to know if you prefer meat- or fruit-flavored paste. I've got about three of them left, but the station should be delivering some more in a few minutes."

Her smile hadn't yet abated. She sat both tubes down on the counter and bent down to take off her shoes, leaving them on one side of the room as she walked onto her rug and wiggled her toes. "Also, I'm sorry, but I'll have to ask you to please take off your shoes before you walk on my rug. I've had to replace it twice already, and I hope this one will last a little longer."

She walked again towards Fable, this time resting one hand on her shoulder very gently. Fabula herself didn't like being touched, but sometimes you needed it. "I saw someone in trouble, and now I'm helping them. Please make yourself at home."

 

[Fable Merrill]

Why was she being so nice?! What was the motive - there HAD to be a motive. Something to gain. People just didn't up and help a spaz like her. It was all she could do to but recoil at being touched so suddenly. She was glad she didn't. All this physical contact was... nice.

And she'd been given an order, too. Fable quickly slipped out of her strapped shoes, softly carrying them over to sit beside Fabula's. Black, latched boots. Black, strapped sneakers. Fabula's shoes were like a bigger version of her own. That was kind of near. Unable to resist waggling her toes on the carpet, Fable clasped her hands together and bowed her head politely. "I'm sorry. I should have realized immediately and followed example, Miss." She replied quietly. "...your home is very lovely. Thank you for allowing me inside it."

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Fabula smiled and bowed right back, entirely out of reflex. "It's nothing special," she responded in standard modesty mode. "Do you have any preferences on incense? I'm sorry I didn't leave any burning when I was out, but we'll be here for a while. It would be a good idea to start a new stick."

As she did, she tapped her holoconsole to put her music on. Light, wordless singing and soft strings soon piped through her ship's audio system, and once again she was content. Like a space-hippy from Space Japan, munching on space-jerky and chilling with her space-friends.

Barefoot and content, she plodded off towards her meditation room to rummage through her incense stocks. "The smell may be a little weaker than you'd expect because the door's open. I'm sorry for that, but I need to be ready for my supplies so we can get out of here faster."