Rich Man, Poor Man, Beggar Man, Thief

[Vhiran Antilles]

"Listen, love. Honestly, I can explain."

The blunted barrel of the Devaronian's carbine dug into Vhiran's spine once again. A pulse of quiet laughter escaped, more an effort to overwhelm the wince and avoid showing weakness than born of any actual amusement. One tiny benefit was the momentary reprieve from the noxious stench that had been assaulting his senses: this deep into the poverty-stricken underbelly of a Hutt-controlled world, simple things like hygiene and ventilation were the first casualties.

A cautious grin crept it's way onto his expression as he looked from one of his threateningly armed captors to another; just enough, he hoped, to be charming and disarming. True, it wasn't exactly the kind of disarming he could really do with right now, but it was the only tactic in his arsenal at the moment, and besides: the sour-faced Rodian looked very badly in need of a little tender attention from someone with astronomically low standards and self esteem. His eyebrows twitched suggestively as he turned his winning smile and piercing eyes on her full-force; a moment of better judgement and self control only just barely managed to stop him from trying to echo the Rodian's curious oral structure with his own. That probably wouldn't have gone over well.

"You've got me all wrong," he insisted gently, his voice subtly deeper, ever so slightly more husky and - he hoped - alluring. "This is all just a big mis-"

The explosion rocked through the complex with such force that Vhiran felt the floor shudder beneath him. The faint hiss of leaking steam from the pipes above became more insistent as the tubing began to shake itself looser. Chaos erupted around him in slow motion, the non-humans chittering back and forth in Huttese and their native tongues, trying desperately to fathom what was happening. Vhiran didn't need to fathom though: he knew exactly what was happening, a good ten minutes before it was supposed to. A single word resolved in the center of his mind.

Bollocks.

Muscles springing into action as much by instinct as by design, Vhiran lurched to one side and twisted, the carbine barrel shifting from the small of his back to the crook of his arm. He tried to wrench it free, but the thug's grip proved more firm than he had expected; changing tack, his hands slid up the sleek durasteel, his fingertips digging into a recessed trigger mechanism an inch or so above the grip. With a satisfying clunk, the blaster pack slid from within the weapon and collided with the ground. In the brief instant it took the thug to understand what was happening, Vhiran's fist had already collided with his jaw.

An elbow to the stomach for good measure, Vhiran set off at a run, barreling past the doubled over thug that had been behind him, and launching himself out of the service tunnel where they'd cornered him and into the larger complex. He heard the sizzle of blaster fire through the air, and the hiss as it splashed against the condensation-covered pipes and walls, narrowly avoiding him as he ran. A shoulder slammed into the wall as Vhiran tried to take a corner a little too fast, but he kept going, kept sprinting, kept ignoring the burning tightness in his lungs, and the protest of an injured knee that would have very much preferred it if he stayed still and lay down for the next century or so. He didn't let those things distract him, or stop him; perhaps he should have, he realised, as he ran full-speed into the largest humanoid he could remember seeing.

Vhiran reeled backwards, momentarily stunned by the collision. The duracrete wall of a man in his path didn't seem even remotely phased: but then, Vhiran wasn't entirely sure how to tell. He wasn't entirely sure what manner of alien this particular one was - one of the wrinkly-faced scaly ones that the Hutts had enslaved, no doubt - but in situations like this, race and species hardly seemed to matter.

The sound of pursuit echoed up the tunnels behind him: only a matter of time before he was discovered. Unless -

Face setting with determination, Vhiran tugged at the sleeves of his duster, before holding his fists aloft in front of him. "Alright, you big ugly bastard," he muttered, readying himself mentally for the beating he was about to endure. "Lets get this over with."

A quizzical expression swept across the alien's features, and for a moment he simply stood there, evidently confused by the small human and his antics. Then suddenly the alien's knees buckled beneath him, and he toppled instantly to the ground. Vhiran stared for a moment in disbelief, wondering how he had managed to simply intimidate such a large opponent into submission, before his eyes managed to settle on the shape of a saberdart protruding from the back of the brute's neck.

Vhiran's shoulders sagged in disappointment as he followed the dart's trajectory backwards, his gaze settling on the woman responsible. "I had that completely handled," Vhiran insisted, after an indignant pause.

[Xesh]

A sharp exhalation of breath marked the final byte of transferred data, now safely secured aboard Aurelius thanks to Vhiran. The list was transferred, a dummy list left behind it's place, and the indicator light on her datapad finally flashed to indicate the aptly named 'Dust of Tracelessness' program had obliterated their electronic tracks.

Perfect.

Xesh actually smiled as she tucked the datapad in her satchel and hopped down from her perch amidst the conduits. Awkward for most sentients to get into, but her petite stature lent itself to the small space, and the unparalleled access to the data cables was entirely worth the discomfort. She paused for a moment and secured the bag across her body and withdraw the sleek dart gun from it's case. Dark eyes peered around the corner, a flash of brightly colored hair following as she discovered the coast was clear and proceeded to make her way down the hall towards the rendezvous point-

The decking beneath her feat bucked and nearly unbalanced her as the explosion rocked the structure, far earlier than it was supposed to. She cursed under her breath about this being a typical mess after all as she broke into a run, eventually rounding the last bend in the hallway only to find a massive Houk blocking her way and Vhiran doing his level best to...do...something. Bless him, she thought, and sighed as she raised the gun and fired the saberdart. As the creature collapsed, she sauntered up behind it and yanked the dart out again, frowning as she calculated mentally how long the sedative would last.

Considering she hadn't planned for something as...large as the sentient wall of flesh now drooling peacefully on the floor, Xesh doubted they had long. Lifting her gaze to meet his, she lofted a brow before smiling. "I know you did, Vhiran, honey. Transfer's done and tracks are dusted. Time to go, before someone scratches my baby."

[Vhiran Antilles]

"Your baby?" Vhiran scoffed in protest.

Xesh did this: misappropriated ownership of the Barloz freighter that had been a part of Vhiran's life for as long as he could remember. Frankly, he found Xesh's affection for the bucket of rust and bolts deeply baffling, but then spacer mechanics were an odd bunch, who crooned over their vessels the way lonely old spinsters fawned over their pet felines. True, it did mean that she took astonishingly good care of the old junker, far more than Vhiran ever had, but still: if the cosmos determined who things belonged to and with based on how much you loved them, Vhiran would have had a far less lonely existence than the one he was currently living. He'd also probably own a brothel, and several distilleries.

"Tell you what, love," he continued, contemplating the dart gun in Xesh's hands, and the lack of weapon in his. He preferred it that way, generally speaking: in his experience, the most potent weapon he could wield was permanently mounted to his jaw, and he'd managed to live a lot of years without needing to blast his way out of danger so far. Granted, he'd probably have a lot fewer scars and badly healed fractures if he got in the habit of carrying at least a holdout, but the principle of the thing - and the guilt that came along with it - kept any impulses to that end firmly at bay. He hated the bloody things, and besides: his eyes had seen enough death in his lifetime without unleashing a hail of blaster bolts to add more bodies to that count.

His eyes managed to meet with Xesh's, a confusing mix of mirth and disgruntled frustration swimming behind his gaze. "How about I hang on to your cut of the profits for the next few years until you've paid me enough to buy the Auri off me, and then we can start calling her your baby, eh?"

Either that, his mind continued to mutter darkly, though he kept his tongue silent as he stepped his way over the slumbering Houk - not an easy feat - and trudged his way off up the corridor, Or we can shove it up you and have you squeeze it out after nine months. Either works for me.

[Xesh]

The young woman arched a brow and silently watched Vhiran as he strode past her, starting off down the hallway. A smile curled her lips, directed at his back as she followed along after him, entirely too pleased with herself for pressing his buttons. It was one of her favorite past times after all, and unless the situation was dire, she did it often.

Never enough to harm, however, which would have been unconscionable, even to her. She teased because she genuinely liked Vhiran, and kept her silence as she near soundlessly reloaded the dart gun. A few hurried steps had her back at his side, and her dark eyes studied the holodisplay flickering up from her wrist. "Aww...you mean I haven't paid for her already with the expert maintenance and the glory of my mechanical...skills..." her voice trailed off and her gaze unfocused briefly as she nudged him to the side of the corridor in time to watch a loose ceiling panel fall to the floor where they would have been.

"Anyway. I'd never take away the Auri. What would you ever do without her?" Xesh continued blithely on as if nothing had transpired.

[Vhiran Antilles]

"Living in peaceful luxury surrounded by beautiful women, most likely," he shot back, tugging at his duster to smooth out an imaginary crease where Xesh had womanhandled him. His eyes narrowed at her, no doubt all smug about having heroically saved him, or some such work of nonsense and fiction. He could have dodged that on it's own, no problem at all. Easy. He dodged falling grates all the time. He dodged them for breakfast. He, he -

His train of thought stumbled; instead he turned his attention to the offending void that had hurled it's covering at them, glaring at it indignantly. Stupid bloody ceiling. It had one job - staying firmly above his head - and it couldn't even manage that right.

"As for your skills," he grunted, a brief pause taken to survey his surroundings, listening for the telltale footfalls of their pursuers rushing towards the source of the clanking sound they'd just heard. Only the creaks and rumblings of the complex's now-questionable integrity met his ears, which should have been reassuring; after all, the thugs and mercenaries he'd encountered thus far hadn't possessed the intelligence for any kind of effective stealth. Even so, he had no desire to linger any longer than was necessary, and so continued his way down the corridor at a slightly more cautious pace.

"- I don't think now is really the time to be bragging about them, not after that little explosive distraction of yours did it's business a little early." He glanced behind him, just long enough to give her a scathing look. "You might be used to that kind of prematurity from the class of man you usually go for, but that crap ain't gonna fly with me, love."

[Xesh]

She sighed and barely kept the smile from her lips.

It was the only response, really, that didn't involve a wicked little giggle. He really did try to get under her skin, it just never worked. Well, almost never worked. Today was *not* one of the special times it would.

Xesh sauntered after him as he continued forward, a bit of caution to his step, and her own senses widening in scope in light of the decrepit physical structure, in addition to wondering when the Houk and the Rodians would figure out which way they'd gone. She didn't give the Houk much consideration in the brains department, there wasn't much room in a heavily armored head for gray matter after all. Rodians were a crafty lot, however, and she didn't think they'd have the leisure of quiet for much longer.

"Honey, you assume I usually go for men...it's adorable, really." Xesh purred softly.

She stopped in her tracks, head canted to the side as something in her instincts gave her pause. "Vhiran..." her voice emerged as a whisper as she pulled up the landing bay's security feed on her datapad. "...something feels wrong."

[Vhiran Antilles]

Xesh's interruption was frustrating: it completely cut off the retort his subconscious had been working on. Something about frakking Gamorreans and a pun about being spit-roasted - it would have been wondrous. Damn her for depriving him of the opportunity. Damn the Force for giving her a reason to.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice transforming into little more than a breath. "I sense it too."

The mechanic could tinker with her gadgets and security feeds if she wanted; Vhiran didn't have the patience for such technological solutions. Instead he stilled his body and his mind, his eyes rolling back behind half-closed lids as he stretched out, his consciousness oozing through the corridors of the complex like a slowly moving wave. He reached further and further, brushing against pipes, conduits, struts, and more, until finally he found what he was searching for. He didn't know what the creature was; it felt like a rodent, or perhaps some sort of mamphibian hybrid born from divergent evolution or some twisted sexual encounter. On a civilized world, it was the kind of creature that would likely be considered vermin. Here in Hutt territory, it was probably just lunch.

Nudged by Vhiran's will, the creature ambulated forward, it's strangely splayed legs slapping against the metallic floor with a wet fap and a click of claws. He couldn't see through it's eyes, not really, but from it's mind he gleaned a sense of what was happening. Large shapes. Different tastes on the air. Little moving. Waiting.

Vhiran's eyes snapped open. "Ambush," he grunted, but his attention was already diverted elsewhere. He didn't even bother to say anything, didn't ask for permission before he began to rummage through the satchel slung across Xesh's shoulder. His satchel. His bag of tricks. Xesh had just been hanging onto it while he'd been off being heroic and putting his life on the line for the job, and now hardly seemed the best time to worry about redistributing cargo.

Besides, she made for a fairly inoffensive pack mule, all things considered.

Shiffling through the various compartments, he found what he was looking for: a simple but finely crafted bundle of leather, designed in such a way that the metallic emitters, cables, and power cells were almost entirely concealed from view. Quickly but carefully he tugged it onto his hand, fingers splaying as they stretched their way into the corresponding aspects of the glove. A few buckles, a few flexes, and the gauntlet was secured in place. A clench of his fist and it hummed to life, a barely perceptible energy field forming a modest disc in the air above his knuckles. Not all technology was redundant he supposed; this one in particular had been liberated from the personal effects of a man from Kilia IV. It had seemed a shame to let it go to waste, unidentified and discarded by law enforcement officers who had no interest in discerning what it was. With luck, it would do it's job better for Vhiran than it had for the unfortunate Kilian Ranger.

More fumbling attached another device to his other wrist; one he hopefully wouldn't have to use. His eyes flitted to Xesh, in the process of making her own preparations.

"Ready?"

[Xesh]

A slight adjustment to the satchel saw it secured at the small of her back, after he'd finished gearing up. Her own process took a similar amount of time, though it mostly involved ensuring her weapons were charged and ready, as they were already distributed across her body in various sheaths and holsters.

An ambush...shit.

Hands slid to her own creations first, a pair of heavily modified shock whip handles held in sheaths on each thigh. The five meter long braided cord retracted neatly into the handles, and the shock level was variable depending on the switches pressed by her fingertips. The dart gun went back into a pouch in the satchel, while a pair of Dissuaders were clipped to her belt, each containing sedative rounds instead of the lethal acid ones that were more typically used. When you had nightmares that were brimming with the souls of the dead and the damned...you tried not to add to that list unless it was absolutely necessary. Never mind that killing people just wasn't truly in her nature.

But if they were trying to kill her or Vhiran, she wasn't above hurting them something fierce.

"Ready." she said quietly, flipping the datapad off and tucking it away before taking a Dissuader in each hand and nodding to him. As he stepped forward, she took a slight detour off to one side along the wall of the hangar and opened fire with the Dissuaders, aiming carefully for exposed skin to allow the sedative rounds to work quickly.

[Vhiran Antilles]

Vhiran heard the puff of displaced air as the magnets or chemicals or whatever the bloody hell it was did their job and hurled tiny drug-filled projectiles towards the waiting ambush. Vhiran felt the way that she moved beside him, and angled himself just enough that the Force gauntlet would shield them both, the first volley of return fire splashing harmlessly against the energy field with enough kinetic force to send shudders up his arm.

Off to the side, Vhiran felt motion; with a quick snap of his wrist he unleashed a plume of fire from the flame projector strapped to his other wrist: not enough to harm, just a quick surge of heat and light to make the flanking attacker rethink his headlong surge towards them. As he faltered, Vhiran offered a little extra demotivation: a shove through the Force with just enough strength to send him stumbling backwards, balance failing.

He wasn't sure if it was adrenaline, or Jedi mysticism, but everything around him felt dull and slow, his eyes flitting from threat to threat to opportunity. He reached out - more fumbled out really, like a child trying to pick up a tiny snowflake wearing mittens several times too large - wrapping the Force around a duraplast canister that his eyes had found. "Xesh!" he uttered as he wrenched it forward, clumsily skitting across the ground and into the fray. "Fuel can!"

As Xesh span in reaction, seemlessly inferring the meaning behind his minimal words, one of her pistols spat forth another projectile, the metallic missile lancing it's way through the flimsy container, the entire object rippling in response and sending a steady glob of viscous ship fuel pouring out onto the deck. Vhiran's arm lashed out again, a steadier plume of fire cast this time; there was the faintest flash of scent before his senses were overcome with sound and heat, a thunderous explosion as the fuel ignited and ruptured the canister, spewing flame and fuel and shards of duraplast in all directions.

[Xesh]

They worked rather beautifully in tandem, she had to admit. Whether it was simply solid knowledge of the way the other moved and thought, or if it could be attributed to their fledgling Force connections, she wasn't sure. Might even have been both. But really, that was best pondered at another time. Not when they were busy being ambushed.

She swore as she watched the fuel can explode in a glorious cascade of shrapnel and flame, feeling the Dissuaders in her hands click simultaneously. That was the problem with the little buggers holding only ten shots apiece, one ran out far faster than one anticipated. Reloading was out of the question considering the delicacy of the task involving sedative rounds of her own creation. Thankful for Vhiran's careful shield angling, she took a moment to holster the pistols and settled one of her shock whip handles in her grasp.

There was a flash of bright purple light and a snap of electricity as the whip activated, five meters of wicked braided cord fairly leaping out of the hilt. Xesh made a short, sharp motion, sending the whip lashing out to wrap around the nearest ambusher still remaining between them and their ship. It wrapped around the houk's stout legs, causing him to stumble, but the jolt of energy that sizzled through the cord forced him to collapse, convulsing, to the floor. He'd live, but he'd be hurting something awful from the overload of energy to his system.

A flick of her wrist saw the whip cord freed and she shouted for Vhiran to run as she kept herself carefully in range of his shield while they made a bee-line for the Auri.

[Vhiran Antilles]

And this was why Vhiran was glad Xesh had a preference for the ladies - he didn't want that crazy whip thing anywhere near his business, in the bedroom or otherwise.

Vhiran kept moving along the path that Xesh worked to clear, keeping her covered with the shield as best as it's size and the angles in question would allow. A mercenary, ether a Duros or a Nemoidian though Vhiran wasn't really sure how to tell the difference, tried to take a pot shot. Vhiran batted it aside, reaching out with the force to wrench the blaster out of the Dur-moidian's grip, and whip it back into his noseless face. The mercenary staggered backwards and fell. Vhiran grinned, ducking his head as he stepped under the fuselage of his ship, his hand thumping against the control that triggered the ramp.

"Xesh, darlin'," he uttered as he followed his companion up into the ship, his head jerking towards the gun turret at the aft of the ship. "Would y' mind openin' the hangar door for us, love?"