Blurry. Everything was a blur. Zuwel’s entire body ached, exhausted; there had been a struggle, but he didn’t remember when, or why. Was he moving? No. No, his legs were limp, someone was carrying him. They were outside, he could feel the cold sting of the night’s air, and hear the bustle of the city, but it was growing distant—muffled.
In an instant, it felt like the entire world spun upside down. With a heavy thud and crash, pain shot throughout Zuwel’s back. The air was ripped from his lungs, sputtering out through his face tentacles. Stars flicked across his blurred vision—a slurry of colors, like some violent, twisting nebula.
Zuwel groaned, head pounding. Had they just fallen? Multiple objects were uncomfortably jutting into his back and sides, and something smelled rotten.
… What was happening? It felt like just a moment ago he was enjoying exotic women swaying to loud music, imbibing himself, and getting drug-addled with Zoplo. Oh, those women… they were so beu–
Whap!
“Get up Zuwel, you pathetic little wretch.”
Panic and pain brought a measure of focus to his vision, head reeling from the strike. Six people stood over him. No, wait… three. At least two had drawn blasters, leveled directly at Zuwel’s head. Fear struck, a desperate hand flailing out for his waist—a half-reflex—grasping at the blaster that should be holstered there.
Pat, pat. Oh. It’s gone.
The leader of the trio stepped forward. Zuwel squinted, trying to glean something more than a blur. It was a tall, silver-skinned woman with flowing white hair pulled into a bun. A loose strand fell over her face, which glared down with dagger-like lilac eyes and harsh features.
“... Vynsa?”
“He remembers,” she remarked with a taunting lilt, holding up Zuwel’s blaster—pinched between two fingers as if it were contagious. She swayed it, mockingly.
Crik. Zuwel would’ve rather woken up to any other face in the galaxy—even his mother’s. Wait, but then, what happened to…
“Zoplo?”
“Dead.”
Vynsa's voice was hoarse, and rife with contempt. She threw Zuwel’s blaster away, discarding it like garbage. The woman knelt down, leaning in to loom over him.
“And you will be too, if you don’t listen.”
“You wouldn’t,” Zuwel shakily wheezed out through rasped breaths. “Tar Dorfi would disintegrate you…”
That, of course, was a lie; Tar Dorfi, Zuwel’s old gang boss, had been dead for about three months—killed in some freak escape pod accident. That wouldn’t stop him from using the weight behind the name, though.
Vynsa stared long and hard. Then, she held a hand back to wave over one of the others. She didn’t seem concerned at all. Zuwel felt his heart sink—guess that card wasn’t going to work. The other figure plodded over, handing her something. Zuwel’s eyes briefly flicked over, catching a glimpse of Vynsa’s goon, a gank killer.
“Recognize this?” she held up a square device with a loose hanging tube.
“A huff-tube…”
Well, at least, it was supposed to look like one. That was a cheap fake. Zuwel should know, he made it.
Vynsa reached out and jerked Zuwel upright by a face tentacle.
“Hyak!” he exclaimed, reeling from the immense pain.
“Don’t play me, slime. You sold us fakes, and you equipped us with shoddy cybernetics.”
She was right about the huff-tubes, but the comment about the cybernetics stung. Those were legitimate, and Zuwel had worked really hard on them. Now wasn’t the time to fret over that, though.
“They must’ve… just… broken in—”
Vynsa's face started to curl into a snarl. That was enough to bring Zuwel pause. This wasn’t a tenable position, she had him completely cornered.
That snarl eased, forming into something more smug, recognition flitting across her eyes; Zuwel must’ve let his thoughts bleed too heavily into his body language. Druk, he thought, if only he hadn’t been caught mid-sansanna stupor.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” she started, “You’re coming with me to Kafrene. You’re going to work for me, or…”
“I’ll do it,” he quickly cut in. Zuwel wasn’t about to end up dead in some back alley. There’d be some way out of this mess down the line, but for now, he had to concede and play along. He weakly brought his arms up in surrender.
“—I’ll do it.”
“... Good.”
In an instant, it felt like the entire world spun upside down. With a heavy thud and crash, pain shot throughout Zuwel’s back. The air was ripped from his lungs, sputtering out through his face tentacles. Stars flicked across his blurred vision—a slurry of colors, like some violent, twisting nebula.
Zuwel groaned, head pounding. Had they just fallen? Multiple objects were uncomfortably jutting into his back and sides, and something smelled rotten.
… What was happening? It felt like just a moment ago he was enjoying exotic women swaying to loud music, imbibing himself, and getting drug-addled with Zoplo. Oh, those women… they were so beu–
Whap!
“Get up Zuwel, you pathetic little wretch.”
Panic and pain brought a measure of focus to his vision, head reeling from the strike. Six people stood over him. No, wait… three. At least two had drawn blasters, leveled directly at Zuwel’s head. Fear struck, a desperate hand flailing out for his waist—a half-reflex—grasping at the blaster that should be holstered there.
Pat, pat. Oh. It’s gone.
The leader of the trio stepped forward. Zuwel squinted, trying to glean something more than a blur. It was a tall, silver-skinned woman with flowing white hair pulled into a bun. A loose strand fell over her face, which glared down with dagger-like lilac eyes and harsh features.
“... Vynsa?”
“He remembers,” she remarked with a taunting lilt, holding up Zuwel’s blaster—pinched between two fingers as if it were contagious. She swayed it, mockingly.
Crik. Zuwel would’ve rather woken up to any other face in the galaxy—even his mother’s. Wait, but then, what happened to…
“Zoplo?”
“Dead.”
Vynsa's voice was hoarse, and rife with contempt. She threw Zuwel’s blaster away, discarding it like garbage. The woman knelt down, leaning in to loom over him.
“And you will be too, if you don’t listen.”
“You wouldn’t,” Zuwel shakily wheezed out through rasped breaths. “Tar Dorfi would disintegrate you…”
That, of course, was a lie; Tar Dorfi, Zuwel’s old gang boss, had been dead for about three months—killed in some freak escape pod accident. That wouldn’t stop him from using the weight behind the name, though.
Vynsa stared long and hard. Then, she held a hand back to wave over one of the others. She didn’t seem concerned at all. Zuwel felt his heart sink—guess that card wasn’t going to work. The other figure plodded over, handing her something. Zuwel’s eyes briefly flicked over, catching a glimpse of Vynsa’s goon, a gank killer.
“Recognize this?” she held up a square device with a loose hanging tube.
“A huff-tube…”
Well, at least, it was supposed to look like one. That was a cheap fake. Zuwel should know, he made it.
Vynsa reached out and jerked Zuwel upright by a face tentacle.
“Hyak!” he exclaimed, reeling from the immense pain.
“Don’t play me, slime. You sold us fakes, and you equipped us with shoddy cybernetics.”
She was right about the huff-tubes, but the comment about the cybernetics stung. Those were legitimate, and Zuwel had worked really hard on them. Now wasn’t the time to fret over that, though.
“They must’ve… just… broken in—”
Vynsa's face started to curl into a snarl. That was enough to bring Zuwel pause. This wasn’t a tenable position, she had him completely cornered.
That snarl eased, forming into something more smug, recognition flitting across her eyes; Zuwel must’ve let his thoughts bleed too heavily into his body language. Druk, he thought, if only he hadn’t been caught mid-sansanna stupor.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” she started, “You’re coming with me to Kafrene. You’re going to work for me, or…”
“I’ll do it,” he quickly cut in. Zuwel wasn’t about to end up dead in some back alley. There’d be some way out of this mess down the line, but for now, he had to concede and play along. He weakly brought his arms up in surrender.
“—I’ll do it.”
“... Good.”
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