There Ain't No Rest For The Wicked

[Shayleigh De'Marco]

People tend to see what they want to see.

Grasslands swept for kilometers in every direction, rising and falling across rolling hills. The tall grass had begun its transition in color as the new season came in, and chill winds ushered from the north. Nestled atop one of the tallest hills in any direction was a large domed structure, with an attached smaller domed structure. Down the hill the buildings were sparse, aside from vendor stalls, until the terrain leveled out to a myriad of structures. There was no semblance of order to the varying heights of the buildings, but the tallest reached no higher than three stories.

On the western edge of the town, the wall surrounding the outpost opened at its widest. On the south side of the dirt path that entered the town a large garage stored speeders and speeder bikes alike, keeping them sheltered from the elements. Just across the wide dirt path, the parting of large double doors briefly let the raucous music within escape, the cantina at the edge of the outpost set strategically to welcome visitors from Temba Port to the west.

The cantina was as busy as one might expect from an isolated outpost, with the structure being the primary form of entertainment for any passing through or even the residents of the Dinland Outpost, creatively named for its isolated location in the Dinland Steppes. The Cantina was what anyone would have expected from a near lawless planet operating just outside the bounds of the Empire and the Republic.

The inner ring of the establishment, closest to the bar, was reserved for regulars and the more boisterous but smaller groups of patrons. Just outside that, a collection of open-air tables that seemed far more reserved contained patrons that would have represented the farmers and workers within the outpost. The outer edge was a bit of a wild card for patrons, from a mix of quieter individuals that wanted privacy, to more boisterous groups take took over one of the many alcove booths.

An armored figure, appearing rather androgynous due to the helmet and fitting of the armor, sat at one of those outer edge tables. “Need anything?” Any feminine voice queried, followed by a silence that lasted longer than a few moments. The helmeted figure turned their head back enough to reply in an equally mystifying voice. “Phattro.” The server nodded and left to fetch the order. As she moved to the bar, a Twi’lek server moved in parallel and joined her at the countertop. “Personality of a Bantha on that one, huh?” The blue skinned female questioned, provoking a half smile from the blond woman. “Not surprising from an off-worlder. I need a Phattro.” Shay agreed, before leaning towards the bar to place the order she received with the serving droid.

While she waited for the drink to be made up, she turned to properly give her attention to her co-worker, a Twi’lek named Shyvara. “Don’t expect much of a tip from that one.” Syvara’s lekku twitched as she glanced back at the armored figure, then back to Shay. “I don’t expect much of a tip from anyone.” She remarked with an exhale, Shyvara proceeding to click her tongue as she picked at the blue not-quite flattering tunic Shay wore. “Well dressed like that, of course not. If you come by later, I could probably part with some of my outfits I no longer wear.” Shyvara presently was garbed in a dark purple long skirt, with slits down the side that let her legs extend out with every step. Above that, a cream-colored crop top contrasted the exotic blue of her skin. “Yeah, I’m not interested in being eye candy.” Her friend quipped back quickly. “Obviously. Did you even wash your hair today?” She teased, plucking at some of Shay’s blond hair with just the tips of her index and thumb like it was contaminated by some foreign agent.

“One Phattro.” The droids mechanical tone forewarned the placement of the drink atop the counter. She took up the drink, and began to move away, Shyvara calling after her. “You won’t get noticed like that.” Her eyes downcast as she walked across the bar, presenting a more meek disposition as she mumbled. “Maybe I don’t want to be noticed.”

[Shayleigh De'Marco]

She could feel the eyes lingering on her back as she walked away, stopping to drop off the drink she carried. “Do you want to open a tab?” She asked, her eyes following the direct line the armored visage stared in. No more than ten meters away a table of five sat in one of the dimly lit alcove booths, boisterously laughing and conversing. Of the group, a Klatooinian caught the notice of both her looking, and the androgynous individual that had ordered the drink, or it was at least assumed they were looking given the direction they remained resolutely focused.

The Klatooinian snorted, giving a gesture of their head in the direction of Shay and the patron. “What in the void are you looking at. Mind your business…” A knife was taken from a place beneath the table and brandished to let the light glint off the non-rusted segments of the blade. “…or I’ll have your eyes.” The helmeted head canted to the side slightly, the only expressive gesture in an otherwise unseen visage. Their hand moved slowly, revealing a bounty puck that had been concealed beneath it for an undetermined amount of time. A small tap to the top of it revealed the visage of the Weequay sitting in the middle, a dark brown leathery looking face that appeared as if it had spent too much time in the sun.

There was only a moments hesitation on either side, before the bounty hunter drew a pistol and placed a shot into the chest of the Klatooinian, who slumped into the Devaronian beside them, pinning the arm that tried to reach for its blaster. Two more shots followed, one that barely missed another Weequay just side the other, before biting into their sternum as they tried to stand and causing them to slump back into the booth. The table, drink included, that the bounty hunter had previously been seated at was suddenly flipped over for cover. Across the bar, the patrons ducked into their relative locations of safety. Shay immediately ducked down behind the table just beside the Bounty Hunter, it being her safest place to go given the ensuing chaos and her relative proximity to the origin of the fighting.

At this point she didn’t see what transpired, only heard the exchange of shots. She froze, her adrenaline spiking as memories flashed through her mind, her eyes closed to fight off the visions of a past best left buried. “Shay!” She heard the call across the chamber, catching sight of Shyvara. The blaster fire began to ebb, but Shay didn’t stop to appraise the situation. Shyvara, feeling the situation lightening, removed herself from cover and began to move towards Shayleigh. She could feel her heartbeat in her temples, an important detail tugging at the edges of her mind. “Six.” She mumbled suddenly, remembering. “There’d been six originally.”

The Bounty Hunter, who had just stood, glanced down at her with those words. A blaster bolt struck the lower abdomen, causing them to dive over the table. Shay, noticing the path of fire Shyvara would intersect, scrambled to her feet and tackled the Twi’lek to the ground. Debris kicked off the walls as the Bounty Hunter finished the shootout against a lone human, the scent in the air that of something burning as the energy scorched the very air it tore through. The shots stopped abruptly from one side, and Shay slowly peeled her head up to glance around, spotting the Bounty Hunter who moved towards their quarry.

“Are you alright?” Shay’s eyes turned toward Shyvara, crawling off the woman, giving a quick scan for injuries. “Yeah…you saved me…” She breathed a sigh of relief, throwing her arms around Shayleigh’s neck in a hug. The heavy armored steps paused just behind her and to the right. “She’s not the only one…” A credit chit was tossed down at her side. “For the drink, and the warning.” Without further word, the Bounty Hunter moved to the proprietor to exchange both credits and words, then was gone.

Shayleigh breathed out a sigh as her heartrate began to steady, her eyes meeting the golden hued eyes of a Gotal, a native raced to the moon of Antar 4 she presently resided on. The Gotal was crouched beneath their own table, a blaster in hand, but what was most disturbing was the stare they affixed on to Shayleigh.