Location: Byss; “The Slice”
The Chadra-Fan appeared to be having a fun time, tossing a pile of credits onto the table while he drank deeply from a metal chalice. He had been having a fun day - he had been having a fun week - staying at the hotel next door and trying every amenity The Oasis had to offer; from the drinks, to the games, to the girls.
Well, that fun was about to end.
The proprietress of this refined establishment was the large Hutt slithering toward him with her hands folded over her belly. She was flanked by two Gammorreans, a pair of brothers who had come to this forsaken sun crater as a favor to Dasheeba. They had been chosen because their muscles were big and their brains were small, and they would do whatever she said.
She could have been inclined to let the Chadra-Fan play another day or two. He had a nice speeder outside that he’d left unattended for a week. That would have paid his tab.
But she didn’t like his face.
She slithered to a stop behind her customer and looked over him, big enough to blot out the artificial and natural light that was filtering down on him from the ceiling.
“Having a nice time…sugar?” she asked. Her face stretched, like a rubber mask, into a sickly-sweet grin that was as wide as the Chadra-Fan’s entire body.
Beady black eyes turned to peer up at her from within a hood. The rat sniffed the air, perhaps sensing something amiss with her tone.
“…Yes?” he squeaked.
The Hutt’s face fell. She waved a fist toward her guards. “Get ‘em!” she spat.
The Chadra-Fan, reacting wildly in his altered state, produced a blaster from his cloak and took a harried shot; one of the Gammorreans ducked to the right and threw a fist out toward the rat’s jaw.
Dasheeba heard the blow land, but she had turned her head to see where the blaster bolt had hit. It had sunk into her entrance door with a cloud of sparks that hissed and crackled. Several people cried out, but the Hutt only narrowed her large gray eyes.
Her head swiveled around to see her guards picking the Chadra-Fan up by the back of his hood.
“My place has been open a week and you’ve already run up a bill taller than you can stand!” She spoke loud enough - in a booming tone - to make sure all of her patrons could hear her. They needed to understand.
“I can- I can pay!” the rat cried, his feet kicking in the air as he tried to connect with the Gammorrean’s protruding paunch.
Mama Sheeba jerked a thumb towards the back lot. “Take ‘im outside! Turn him upside down and see what falls off him…we can sell that.”
The Gammorreans turned away and trooped off, the Chadra-Fan hanging upside down by his ankle, trapped in a large green fist, crying out to the wide-eyed customers who had silently watched the entanglement.
Mama Sheeba looked at her door again, which had black scorch marks across the red metal now.
“And you gone pay for my do’!” she boomed so the Chadra-Fan could hear her.
Then she folded her hands over her stomach again and put on her most polite grin, and began slithering through the room again, nodding benevolently to anyone who looked up to catch her eye.