Painful Afternoon

[Tathra Khaeus]

Dredd, a planet ran by thugs and gangs for the most part. The Matador had arrived two days ago, in search of potential hirelings. However, quickly the local cartels banded together against what they considered to be a foreign invader. The Delvak Crime Syndicate invited the Matador and his small group of Tol Varen warriors into one of their casino's in the dark zone to discuss treating terms to help eradicate the other gangs on Dredd. However, the casino was not empty save a few negotiators; however filled to the brim with hired guns. In a swift motion of ignorance, he united the warring factions on Dredd against him.

Even whilst caught in the ambush, the Matador and his Tol Varen warriors were able to eradicate the hirelings within the casino. He had brought a selection of Tol Varen warriors from their infantry known as The Might, carrying their Beskar Shields and creating a shield wall to block their blaster fire. However, it became evidently clear that the city they were in. The dark zone, had become a warzone and they were the only target. Save the poor few refugees that still resided within the city, however that wasn't his concern at this time.

Four groups had come together; the Delvak Crime Syndicate, the Maiu Cartel, the Resurgents and the Evakand Warriors. They had outposts in strategic points throughout the city, transport ships in the air, and locked down the exits to the city. All of this, grand efficiency of a real army in one night brought on the by the fear caused by a 'foreign invader' causing them to band together overnight.

They had to move with caution, they had already attempted to attack one outpost in haste; however to no avail. The Matador was alone, and low on Bacta reserves. He only had two injections worth left, it would only keep him going for so long. But, his mind could not tarry on that.

He had been found, a bright blinding light cloaked his body in white as an infantry dropship spun overhead, unloading a fray of blaster bolts into his back; the kinetic strike threw the Matador from his feet, knocking him down on all fours. He pushed himself to himself up with his palms, using a telekinetic yank to pull his lightsaber to hand. The great orange blaze ignited in a fury as he flung the saber in the air, creating a barrier of force energy to negate any continued fire against him as his lengthy blade spun through the air and cut down one of the dropships two engines, and a moment later cutting through another engine, and upon its return a wing of the small ship. The dropships were small, thrown together pads held up by thrusters. They were easily pulled down from the sky, however the warriors of this world, Dredd. They were tough, and in a mixture they came. Rodians, Duros, Human, Ithorian, Trandoshan, Twi'Lek. Even some he didn't recognise or know what to call, they were all the same to him. They were in his way, he didn't care where they were from, why they chose this life. He was endangered, and like any animal backed into a corner. He became almost feral.

Pulling on his force energy, he leaped into the air, catching his blazing orange saber mid-air and leaping downward to meet the survivors of the crash. He thrust downward with a kinetic blast, creating a crack in the surface beneath them and thus a kinetic shockwave, softening his landing and temporarily throwing off his already dazed opponents. He capitalized on the opportunity. He cut upward, slicing through the chest of a Rodian directly in front of him. His body collapsed in two. A second rodian, possibly associated with the first, reacted quicker than the other four remaining; the smaller creature jabbed at him with a club, swinging for his head from the right. The Matador effortlessly swung his saber in his left hand, cutting his arm off, it carried through the air with the momentum of his swing, landing with a squish a few metres away. The Matador used his free right hand, clamping down hard on the Rodians throat and snapping his neck, throttling his limp body at the now ready four remaining survivors.

​Four.

​The catapulted body of the Rodian caused one of them to duck out of the way momentarily, removing his from the equation momentarily as the Matador repositioned himself. He used the force, focusing on the Ithorian in front of him; crushing muscle and bone with a kinetic pressure on the arm holding the weight of his weapon. Then with a lazy swing, he cut through his face and neck, leaving him in morbid pieces. Outstretching his free hand, he reflected the incoming blaster bolts from the palm of his hand. Redirecting the energy in all directions, nowhere specifically.

​Three.

​In a moment he became tired of it, and dashed forward with the force with the weight of his body knocking back the only human of the group into the fire rising from the crashed dropship. At this point, he was between the two remaining survivors. The one who had dropped to the ground was behind him, the Matador waited a moment as he saw his last standing opponent commit to a last ditch effort.

Two.

He pulled a small blade from his belt, and in that moment; the Matador swung around, severing in two the survivor that yet to make it to his feet, and upon return. He deactivated his lightsaber, and caught the dagger wielding hand out of the corner of his eye.

​One.

​He used the blunt metal of his hilt to brutalise his opponent, with quick powerful jabs, shattering his ribs and then skull with a few powerful movements, he then too was thrown into the fire. The Matador stopped for a moment, allowing himself to take in a breath. But this momentarily lapse caught him, as the dropship wasn't travelling alone. Five others had dropped nearly ten each in the nearby area. They would converge on his position no doubt, they had saw the error of landing so close and had likely landed blocks away.

They had him, caught within a small area of the city. Like a rat in its cage, he could only assume that they were converging on the crash site. Fifty, a fair fight. The Matador wouldn't deny a single one a fight, but it would be on his terms. His heart was racing, he had been on the run for two days with no sleep, his eyes felt rugged in his head. His head hurt, it had been many years since he had been awake this long. But the Tol Varen had taught him endurance and discipline.

But, regardless of how quickly he moved. They moved faster in their greater numbers, he was simply on foot. He didn't have time to count them as two small vehicles crept along the edges of his vision, both with small turrets attached to their chassis. However they were not alone, quickly more thugs joined the fray. He made way for one of the nearby buildings, but both of the vehicles quickly intercepted his movement; however he was caught off guard by another surprise. A speeder bike came from behind, crashing into him with a blast to his exposed lower thighs on the back of his armour and the brunt force of its side as it slowed to a collision against him. The kinetic hit threw him forward into the fire of one of the two miniguns. Additionally, he was also quickly surrounded by hirelings and thugs, some carrying blasters, some carrying melee weapons and others various other types of equipment they believed may be useful.

Using his pain as a reflex, the Matador flung the speeder bike and its rider both immediately into the farthest away vehicle at a frightening speed, crushing its turret and killing the speeder bikes driver. However, with his attention divided; this allowed the other one to escape, clipping him with turret fire on his shoulder. Without his armour, he might very well have been dead by now.

His opponents greatly outnumbered him, many flung themselves at him. Thinking their numbers would overwhelm him, he empowered himself with the force, making his movements quicker and with greater strength. He took his Great-Axe from its magnetic grip on his back, swinging it in his right hand, saber in left. Cleaving through his opponents. However, there was only so much of a beating Beskar could take. He used his opponents as temporary shields, dancing from opponent to opponent. Cleaving and slicing through many at once with his saber and yanking others to him or crushing them with his Axe. He dropped to a crouch using the force to rip the weapons from the hands of a large group of thugs in front of him, masterfully removing their foul existence from the world with a few movements of his saber. But, continuous blaster fire became quickly overwhelming; and he was no longer able to keep an eye on the small vehicle that had attacked him earlier, it came out of nowhere at a high velocity. The vehicle pinned him against the destroyed vehicle, knocking both of his weapons from hand. Blood reluctantly crawled up his throat as he felt his body's precious organs squeezed by the metal frame of the small vehicle. However, his beskar and force training allowed him to continue fighting. Imbuing his strength with force energy; he was able to throw the vehicle backward with a powerful show of telekinetic energy, crushing several unsuspecting opponents. His first reaction was to make for the biggest and closest thug, he feigned a punch easily and disarmed the Wookie, pushing his head back into a chokehold, holding the foremost majority of the Wookies body in front of his own.

He used it as a shield, using it's repeating blaster to cause all those within range to duck for cover. The Wookie when released fell to the ground severely injured, shrieking in pain at the many burns across its body from the blaster bolts. The Matador dashed forward, using the force to call a fallen broadsword to his grip. His first opponent was a twi'lek carrying a machete, he easily parried the twi'leks attack and thrust the thick of his blade into his skull, parts of his face broke up as he jerked the blade out of his head, immediately throwing the broadsword into the chest of a human thug. The Matador winced in pain as his heart pounded harder in his chest as he outstretched a hand as he began to pant, redirecting a furious attack, the bolts of energy hit several of the thugs; causing some to drop their weapons, only a unlucky few were hit. However, this gave him enough time to call his saber to hand. He, was not a master of blaster deflecting by any means, dashing closer as to limit their ability to shoot. However, not to his surprise they easily killed each other in attempt to land a shot. The Matador carved a path through them, retreating a nearby building as nearly thirty bodies lay scattered in his massacre. Luckily the adrenaline didn't allow him to notice the multiple stabbing wounds and the steaming burns across his body. He winced, feeling the adrenaline wear off momentarily. But he couldn't stop, otherwise they would attack him again. He needed refuge.

[member="Pamnis Hosk"]

 

[Pamnis Hosk]

She had gotten herself into messy situations before, but Dredd wasn't just a messy place. Not anymore. It was a full-out warzone. Pamnis had been uite some time traveling from planet to planet, serving on different hospitals, offices, refugee center. And yes, worlds like Dredd where not the nicest place to be, but they where the places where her help was needed the most. She wouldn't go as far as saying she was a pure, benevolent soul; but with her profession came a duty and a responsibility and she would think little of herself if she refused or avoided living up to it. There just too many people in need of help, how could she refuse it when it didn't cost her anything but time?

Days ago, the doctor had met up with a somewhat large group of other medical assistants: doctors, nurses, technicians. They were all voluntaries who would be dispatched on a transport shuttle to Dredd, to tend to people in need of medical attention that wouldn't otherwise be able to receive it. Most of them were quite young and that made Pamnis, despite her age, one of the most experienced ones. She had been working for a year on her own, with high recommendations and well...she did grow up aboard a medical frigate. Because of this, she had been given one of the spots as Head Medic, in the emergencies section of their little organization.

Everything had been going fine, they kept their registers perfectly and the people helped in making the process quite fluid and amicable. Dredd had some excellent people despite being controlled by some of the most foul ones. She had already been working there for almost a week when suddenly the cartels decided it was necessary to unite and destroy half the city because there was apparently some sort of threat. They cared little for the common people on the streets, and many of them were shot or received serious collateral damage because of occurrences such as explosions, landings and poorly regulated soldiers that simply decided to pick up a fight with them.

Everything went downhill from there, they where taking on far more people than they had the capacity for but they couldn't refuse. They needed help. Pamnis had been working herself hours on end until she couldn't manage to keep herself awake anymore. The building in which they working, that had been lent to them by a Chiss Doctor residing here on Dredd, had started receiving refugees. Not only they could receive the medical attention they needed in there but it was also a stocky building. They were safer inside.

Pamnis was taking a very short brake, looking out through one of the windows, sitting in the space between the bars that protected them when suddenly the most intense fighting scene she had witnessed in her life started taking place. It was a single man, against she didn't know how many. She could here the screams of children inside the hospital, scared by the commotion outside. But she kept her observing eyes on the man. He was terribly injured, she wasn't sure how much more he could take. She had to do something, and she knew she had little time...she could sense it.

Standing up from her seat, she ran as fast as her feet would take her through the hospital and grabbed some nurses on the way, specially the boys. SHe had seen the size of the man and there was no way she could drag him in all on her own. Explaining hastily, so that they knew what to do, they opened the secured doors of the hospital and rushed into the street before anyone had the chance to see them. She felt through the Force, seeing as how the man had moved away from the corpse-littered street. Once they found him she did not waste a second and started analyzing his wounds with her eyes. "Follow us." she directed the stranger as she nodded to two of the nurses to help him. She would explain more once they were inside, they couldn't waste time out here if they wanted to live.

[member="The Matador"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

The Matador gritted his teeth, bracing himself against the wall. His Beskar chest plate had been damaged, but his armour had survived the majority of its abuse. However, his exposed thigh was cut open; blood oozed out from the ragged wound. He grasped at his leg, pulling the bruised and slashed tissue closer together, the best he could between his fingers. His arm felt heavy, his heart was racing in his chest even after the battle.

He had let his wits escape him, falling into a berserk rage. He had sustained quite a few wounds, but still he stood. He could hear commotion from the nearby building. He looked up, inspecting it with haste; saber still ignited in hand, ready to fight once more. He gripped at his chest, feeling a dent in his armour he hadn't noticed before. When the small ground vehicle had crushed him, it snapped something in two like a twig; what it was he didn't know but as soon as be became aware of it's presence it was sorely missed. He grunted, hunching over himself and wincing as tears built up in his eyes. He brought his saber to his thigh, and gently pressed the orange blazing light against his exposed wound, cauterizing it. He screamed and groaned momentarily as the burning sensation seized all the feeling in his body. He de-activated his saber, placing it back on his utility belt as he fell in a slump.

His other leg gave out on him, even though it wasn't burnt. His ligaments had been torn in the haste of the battle. It was a great effort to push himself to his feet, his senses were dagger sharp still; as he heard somebody coming. He looked down the street, taking his Repeater from its cosy spot on his lower back. He held it out in his right hand, waiting for his enemy to come for him. However, the commotion on the street he had just left distracted him. From behind him came blaster fire, the Matador swung around. Using the force to call his saber to his hand, batting away the bolts with minimal effort before unleashing a fury of his own, his repeater fired almost triple their combined blaster fire in a matter of seconds. The end of the street was smouldering by the time the shooting stopped due to his poor aim. He groaned, his repeater suddenly becoming almost too heavy.

His arm fell into a passive swing. He moved again, placing his saber onto his belt once more and carrying the repeater in both hands. He stopped, interrupted as a small group of unarmed people approached him. He did not recognise them, not even a little. However they wore no armour, instead some kind of uniform. He raised his repeater as two men came to aid him.

"No one, touches me." He replied to her command.

They hadn't shot him yet, perhaps they sought to give him refuge. He followed, limping on his own. They led him into a building, filled with refugees. Children, too. It came to him, they were medical assistance. Nurses and Doctors, surrounded by wounded and many of the refugees that could not make it out in time. For a moment he felt somewhat safe, however he knew they wouldn't be if he stayed. He followed the women who appeared to be their leader, limping closer to her. "You're not safe with me here." He groaned, trying to speak and lost his balance for a moment. He was forced to stop, the adrenaline had all but stopped now. He felt very heavy, leaning against a wall as his heart surged with pain. He winced, but did not speak. Hiding the pain beneath his helm.

[member="Pamnis Hosk"]

 

[Pamnis Hosk]

The Doctor was not sure he fully realized the seriousness of his condition. Yes, the body was capable of much more than the average person knew, more so if one shared a strong connection to the Force like this man did but still the rule remained: there is just so much a body can take. He was a warrior, a skilled one at that and so Pamnis could see why he had such a spirit to fight...even if he was in no condition to do so. She admired people with strong wills, determination but she also knew from experience that these very same persons often came with a hard-headed, stubborn streak. She was one of them herself, otherwise there was no way in the galaxy she would be out here risking hers and her coworkers' neck just to fulfill the job she had chosen. She tensed when he raised his repeater at the nurses, it was something she should have expected but it didn't make it any less alarming.

​Pamnis felt some sort of relief when he agreed to go with them so that he could receive much needed treatment, she had been prepared to fight him a little if he refused. Truth was, she had always made a point of following her instincts, specially if these were backed up by the tidings of the Force and something inside her was telling her the right thing to do was helping these hulk of a man. As soon as they were through the pseudo-hospital's doors, these were closed and barred. The people inside did not try to hide their curious, surprised glances. Children were quite afraid and many of them covered their mouths in disbelief as they saw the wounded man walk through the gates. Three of the nurses had parted ways with them to tend to the requests of the people that had called them. That left Pamnis, the stranger and another nurse heading towards her office. "I am very well aware of the danger, sir. Now, are you aware of how much time you had left if you stayed out there? As far as I'm concerned no one saw us bring you in, if anyone comes asking questions...The nurses will know what to do." She explained with a very neutral, confident tone. They reached her office.

She opened the door and entered, pointing towards the gurney and said "Can't work with the armor on, do you need help getting it off?" she asked calmly, her green eyes placed on him. Usually she would have already started helping but seeing as how he was so intent on keeping his distance she decided to be more cautious around him. He was already bleeding and wounded, she did not need him angry too.

[member="The Matador"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

He threw up a weary hand, shaking his head through ragged breath. "I can patch myself up. Leave me to it." He growled at them through his words, fumbling in his utility belt for a vial of his specialised Bacta. He set out a small vial, and loaded it into a small injector. He set it aside, nearly dropping it as he pulled at himself.

He unbuckled and removed the straps that held his armour on his body together. As he tried to remove the Beskar plate covering his upper body, he moaned in an awful pain. Blood dripping from his mouth down the metal of his helm and across his chest. The dent in the plate had became quite cosily crushed into the side of his body, as he pulled it aside; the body glove he wore underneath came apart into various pieces, opening across his chest. The impact of the dent on the body glove was wet with bruised flesh and blood. The Beskar plate fell with a great thunk​ as it hit the floor.

He pulled away his body glove, exposing his upper body. He slid his hand under the body glove; touching the dented area; the Beskar plate had barely been scratched. But, he was bludgeoned and bleeding. The chrome armoured fingers of his had were soaked with a gushing red as he pulled it out from his side. Blood continued to pour down his visor onto his now bare chest, causing him to twitch nervously. He glanced at the Doctor, watching him in these few moments.

He reached for the injector, his muscles failing him. He groaned loudly, twisting and causing blood to ooze from the burns on his chest. Once had had his hands on it, he pulled it to his chest and injected the Bacta directly into his bloodstream, close to his heart. He sighed with some relief, his waning vision slightly returning. The moment of panic was over, but even so he was still bleeding very badly. Many times he had been in positions like this, but always alone.

He attempted to undo the rest of the armour surrounding his body and neck, but failed. His arms were growing weak and his legs were beginning to quake under his weight. "Ugh..." He groaned. "Stay...back." He managed, as the cold metal of his helm pressed against his chest. His head, falling inward as he lost balance, leaning against the wall. He reached for his saber, ready to cauterize another wound.

[member="Pamnis Hosk"]

 

[Pamnis Hosk]

Green eyes looked at the warrior with utter, solemn disbelief. Every shaking, weak movement that was perpetrated only through sheer strength of will grew more and more unstable. He could barely take off his armor on his own. It had been quite a long time since her usually happy face had been so drained of expression, Pamnis had never witnessed a scene like this. In all this years, she had met stubborn people but never like this, never in this state. He was bleeding out and still refused to receive help. He was severely burnt, and still refused to receive help. And she was not afraid but she wasn't stupid either. She did not know him or his reactions, and he might very easily crack her neck if she ignored his warnings and tried to help him anyways. But truth was, she was growing anxious under the impotence she was feeling. It was second nature to her, she knew what to do, she had everything she needed to do it and he was refusing. He was probably dying in front of her eyes and it was putting every single one of her senses on high ends.

Her eyes had already developed a shimmering, thin-coat of tears because she was barely blinking, keeping watch over the man. But she could feel how she took in a cold, sharp breath when he injected the bacta in his own chest. She knew what that meant. Average people did not choose such an area to place an injection. But finally her patience and doubtfulness reached their shatterpoint. He couldn't undo his armor anymore. She could tell he was probably in the brink of going unconscious, his body was giving in even if his mind refused to. "I'm sorry but I won't." she said, taking fast, decisive steps towards him and stopping the hand holding the saber's hilt before it was ignited. She tried to move with a purpose, not to lose her confidence. Pamnis looked at him for a second, as if standing her own ground. She was going to help him. She extended herself to reach for the gurney and made it slide closer to them.

The doctor doubted for a second, her eyes locking on the pieces of armor still surrounding his neck and chest. But a sudden, replenished wave of braveness surged through her and she started working off the seals holding the thing together, all the while hoping the man who stood almost half a meter over her decided not to end her life for trying to do what she thought was her duty.

[member="The Matador"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

The Matador thought he was blinking, but his eyelids were far too heavy. He tensed up one hand, his crushgaunt squeezed at his thigh. He hit himself, trying to keep him awake. His anger kept him on his feet, but even that was fleeting.

His mind was froze on that thought. He was somewhere between consciousness and sleep now. He couldn't even tell if he was still standing. However, he felt something against him.

"...don't.." He grovelled nearly, feeling her work away at him. The plates of his armour fell away. His head was pounding, and movement came at great effort. He raised a hand to push her away. His arm tensed and fell loose at his side. He half gave in, his head falling betweem hunched shoulders.

He watched her through his slitted visor. She was brave, too brave. Brave and stupid. He grimaced weakly under his mask, she was making a cruel mistake. Risking the lives of everyone in this building for him. He opened his mouth to speak; but he found no words. He just, watched.

He groaned, trying to do what he could. He pulled his body glove closer to him. Like a child hiding beneath his sheets. He hated the idea of vulnerability, especially to someone as small in this world as a Doctor. There was hate in his eyes and then in his words, becoming like a child. "Leave me alo..." He trailed off, as more blood ozed from his tongue and throat.

He looked away, as if to pretend it almost, just wasn't happening. "Hnnnf..." Words failed him again.

He felt new pain too, becoming more aware of other injuries. He felt a stab wound in his waist, and another in his armpit from a pike. He gritted his teeth, with a irritated and pained sigh escaping him.

[member="Pamnis Hosk"]

 

[Pamnis Hosk]

She knew that if the situation had been any different. If maybe he had another pint or two of blood left inside his system she would have been dead as dust. Luckily for both of them, she told herself, he had not. She tried to sped through the armor, the clock was ticking and nothing could stop time, with every second that passed he lost more and more blood. But when she was finally done taking off the armor that had protected him as best as it could, her expression plummeted into quite a dark, concentrated one as her jaw tightened and her brow furrowed slightly.

The doctor had noticed that the man was in a very serious situation the second he caught her eye through the building's windows. But now, with the armor removed clearing up the view the realization that this was even worse than she had expected hit her like a cold slap. Wounds that she had not noticed, far too many of them. She was running a race against time, and it had suddenly gotten much, much faster than her. She felt the adrenaline growing under her skin, pumping through her vessels and she had no other option than to tap into the Force to regulate her reactions. There was no way he could make it through the type of surgical attention he needed without an amount of blood supply they did not have. She was almost out of options.

"Lay down, now" she said, blocking away any other thoughts but the ones needed to intervene. She gently pushed on his shoulders until he was sitting and then laying on his back on top of the gurney which did not take long to start absorbing the blood flowing out of his body, staining its covers with the deep burgundy fluid. At this point, she could only think that she had a patient and that, at the moment, she was losing it. If he was going to kill her for it was not one of her main concerns at the time.

Walking away for a second she prepared a catheter as fast as her hands would allow her to and opened a tall refrigerating storage out of which came a bag of universal plasma. Once everything was in its place, Pamnis grabbed one of his forearms and expertly shoved the needle into one of his vessels, the healthy blood would serve to replace the one he had lost. Now the strange thing was that the most immediate thing to do should have been stopping the existent blood loss, and then supplying the body with more...but apparently she had taken a different path.

Her green eyes locked onto his for a fraction of a second before landing on his chest. She let out a small breath, it was the first time she would be trying this with injuries of this level. "Okay, I can do this..." she muttered, more to herself than to him before closing her eyes and pulling on the powers of the living Force. She was exposing herself, something she never did unless it was strictly necessary. But today, it was strictly necessary. She felt the energy flowing through her body, concentrating in the palms of her hands that started glowing in a light green light. Then, one of her palms descended until it was firmly pressed against the center of his chest while the other hovered somewhere above his stomach. All the while, Pamnis let her mind tap into the Force, giving her a calming feeling but keeping concentrated, sensing, targeting the inner wounds she couldn't see.

She was not half-way though it and was already starting to feel the drain healing had on her. But it was no occasion to be feeble so she pushed through it, keeping her eyes closed and her mind as far as possible from the tiredness of her body. She could feel the tissues reconnect, until they were nearing his skin. As soon as she felt it seal itself, she opened her eyes and stopped, taking in a sharp, deep breath and feeling a slight dizziness herself, she was slightly disoriented and thus placed her hands on the sides of the gurney and leaned onto it. But there was something bugging her, something she so urgently needed to ask that she looked at him and spoke through heavy breaths, "Your heart, it's...damaged" she said, with a slight frown and a questioning look. So that's why he had bacta injections on him...

[member="The Matador"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

"I'm aware of my condition." He managed, life coming back to him. He felt a warmth of green boil over his body, in response to her cold hands against his body. He couldn't fight her back, he didn't like being touched. He was bare, vulnerable in front of her. He feared a dagger in his throat for every moment that he lay there.

So many years of fighting, conquering all ahead. Yet, upon one misstep he found himself weak and feeble in front of this women. He eyed her, studying her form as she caused a surge of a burning sensation to envelope his entire body. She was healing him, through a use of more than just her medical expertise. She made use of the force, previously he believed its only true application was to dominate.

This Doctor was defying all readied measures he had regarding the world. He moved uncomfortably on the gurney, as if pulling himself away from her with as much strength as he could muster. He groaned, feeling returning to his body and the sensation of great pain continued to be an ever present reminder that he wasn't dead. Not yet.

He would wipe out all four of the Crime Syndicates on Dredd before that, they would soon regret the course of action that was taken against him. Still he couldn't move, until she removed her hands. He felt trapped, but she hadn't killed him yet. She was helping him. A concept he didn't quite grasp yet.

The next sound made was of her making. She rested herself against the gurney, clearly the healing process had taken a toll on her. He felt some sense of strength again, placing both hands on either side of the gurney's railings, trying with as much strength as he could to push himself up. "I'm fine now..." He muttered, wincing once more with a look of discomfort on his face as he tried to bend at his waist. A flash of pain shot up through his body as he tried to move off of the gurney. "Gagh..." He grimaced once more, his face a mixture of pain and embarrassment. He fell back, leaning on one arm to somewhat hold himself up. "I can't stay... Give me stims, and I'll go..." He spoke in broken pants. His brow furrowing as he squinted at her, the pain causing him to breathe quite audibly in a shaky broken manner.

[member="Pamnis Hosk"]

 

[Pamnis Hosk]

Pamnis was having a hard time catching her breath back, but still she was in better shape than him. Her eyes raised in his direction as soon as she noticed movement by her side, he was already trying to get up again. She frowned and once more, placed her hand on his chest, slightly pushing him back into a laying position. "Easy now, big guy. You are not ready yet and I haven't just drained myself out of energy to have you go out there the next second and get killed." She said, without any traces of offense in her voice but rather as though she was scolding him a little.

​She took one last, deep breath and straightened herself up, back into a fully standing position. "Healing takes time. Now, I know you don't have much of it but I'd be immensely thankful if you gifted me with at least a little bit of your patience." With that, Pamnis grabbed a white, hard plastic box and placed it on a small table to the side of the gurney. She opened the box and put on a pair of sterile gloves. From its inside, the doctor produced some sort thin, semi-translucent layer of a gelatinous composition. Guiding it towards the burnt skin on his torso, the material seemed to fuse with the damaged tissue as soon as it made contact, bringing relief from the uncomfortable feeling a burn provided and would help speed up the regeneration of his skin, without such a noticeable scar if he was lucky.

Once his the front of his torso and arms had received treatment she looked at him, "Now I do need you to sit up if you can manage it, it might be a little bit uncomfortable though." She warned. As soon as he had managed to sit up, the doctor went behind him and started applying the same treatment to the wounds on his back before grabbing a gauze roll and bandage to finish covering up his upper body. She checked the wounds on his legs but apparently these had been healed enough when she used the Force. The fact he had cauterized the worst of them in his own did help too.

At last, she opened a drawer and grabbed a small, orange bottle of pills and handed them to him before getting a glass and filling it with the water of the sink present in the examination room. "I will not give you stim shots, they'll send your body into overdrive and they'll make it worse. These will help far more." She explained and offered him the glass, placing her green eyes on his.

[member="The Matador"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

He pushed away the cup, shaking his head meekly. "I won't take anything that dulls my senses. No, I can't. My condition..." He trailed off, not feeling very punctual regarding it. No one outside of the Tol Varen villa knew of his issue, and even if he wasn't able to keep it that way entirely, he didn't want her to know anymore about it. He felt nauseous already, his head heavy with pain and a throbbing ache in the back of his neck. "There's only so many buildings they can check before they find you here." At least now, he could manage full sentences. He pulled himself up, baring the pain.

The resolve that had granted him his title was quickly returning, and his face lost all trace of pain. He knew what she was thinking, fixing him with her emerald gaze once more. It was as if he was alien to her, yet they were of the same species. He didn't know how he felt, she had pushed him down earlier. His weakness infuriated him, and only caused him to strive to relinquish it. His body would recuperate as it always did, his body was dotted by small and large scars in various locations. He had been through much before, and had survived this far. He figured he might have survived without them, more angry at himself for allowing such a thing to happen than thankful for the work she had done. He felt at the fresh wounds on his body, his skin was fresh and red like dried up blood. His skin was a mixture of purple and red in many places.

He set the orange container aside, and let out a low breath to release the tension in his body. She was a force user, he knew he had seen it earlier, but only now was he really thinking about it. Out here, with that potential. She spent it on this, he didn't know whether he admired her or believed it to be extremely naïve.

[member="Pamnis Hosk"]

 

[Pamnis Hosk]

My is he a stubborn one... Pamnis thought to herself as she watched him stand up. She was used to being quite shorter than the average person but now that he was next to her in full height she was feeling more like a midget. Not that that would make her any less confident...maybe a little. She listened carefully to what he said but couldn't help feeling a little bit against him being out of bed so soon. It's not like he had anything to prove while being in here, at least not to her certainly. Even if he were a common, docile man just by the size of him Pamnis knew she was infinite levels below his league when it came to physical power.

"I was guessing you would say something among those lines and that is the reason why I'm not giving you anything that will...dull your senses, as you put it. Those will simply avoid inflammation, helping you to heal and making the pain eventually subdue. They don't increase the risk for heart failure..." the last part was said with slight timidity. Pamnis, if it had been any other patient, would have insisted on having him tell her what kind of problem he had. She was after all, a doctor. But she felt that this man was not willing to share with her that detail, at least not for now.

Pamnis looked at him, thinking. He didn't want to rest and her guess was that there was only so much pushing from her that he would take before getting annoyed or worse, angry. She let out a small breath and decided to let a piece of her mind out to him, "They outnumber you and your body is in a fragile state. I understand that you put us in danger being here, but as I see it going out, having them discover we helped you and thus getting yourself and us killed won't be any better. Stay for a few hours, at least. All of us will have a better chance if you do."

[member="The Matador"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

"A few hours..." His words were nearly whispers. He pushed himself back down onto the gurney. "No pills." He said again, adamantly refusing any substance he hadn't previously checked himself. He didn't trust it, because he didn't trust her. Even now, he wouldn't take that chance. He fell back into the gurney, his body wasn't able to stand for very long.

He had never slept in the company of others before, but now; he didn't have a choice in the matter. "If anything comes, anybody. You wake me." Were his last words, his eyes began to flicker and his body relaxed. He needed some time to allow his body to heal, as short a time as necessary before he could leave. He left his gaze on the doctor, watching her for as long as he could before his eyes betrayed him and his body fell into a slumber.
In his sleep, he heard the sound of machinery and whispers. He couldn't make out much, but his sleep was rather a daze than actually sleeping.

Lights danced around the black of his mind as he dozed, he had started something. He had become a Warlord of Cerberus alongside two companions, and now he had started something here. These people, were people. Much like his people of Tol Varen were just that, without their training and their upbringing they would've been much the same as these refugees. So would've he.

Ever in his sleep, it troubled him. What would he be, without his training, his home and his discipline. Perhaps he couldn't fight, everything he was at some point was from some place else. And now, that he had to stand on his own two feet. He could not. The Doctor had to heal him, but perhaps taking from those that surrounded him once more, was not weakness. It made him stronger, the more people he met and learnt from, the stronger he became.

Every opponent was a teacher, if you allowed them to be. So it seemed was every saviour, he concentrated his energies in his sleep; focusing on the healing power she had manifested before. He attempted to replicate it, allowing his body to feel the force surge through him. His mind and body healing at a slow and steady rate in his sleep, enhanced by his connection to the force. But even still, the pain was forever present. The confines of sleep did not allow him to escape his reality, in turn he decided to face it.

He woke, shooting up. He felt strong, turning to see the Doctor at his side; again. He looked at her, for a moment confused and not recognising her. But, his awareness followed his primal strength. He thought perhaps, it might've been in his head. He clenched his fist, feeling his strength again. But it was faint due to his injuries, but it was waking up just as he was.

[member="Pamnis Hosk"]

 

[Pamnis Hosk]

She felt her body relax when he agreed, nodding at him as the smallest curve tugged at the corners of her lips. She gave him a thankful look and did not say anything else, maybe afraid of making him change his mind. Taking the orange bottle she placed it back in the place it had been before and turned around, walking towards the door of her office. The Doctor shifted her shoulders and gave him one last look before walking down the corridor, to see his eyes drifting off into a much needed rest.

She had went to grab for some records and paper-work she had to have filled and she had decided to let the other doctos have the holopads that were available. Pamnis did not have time she could sacrifice. Upon asking how the situation was outside, one of the nurses told her that there was great tension and that they were looking for the man but didn't seem to pay much attention to the hospital. At least not yet...she thought.

Once she had organized her work, she walked back to her office. The man was asleep and she moved as silently as was humanly possible so as not to disturb him. Setting the work on a table that was placed horizontally to the gurney, she took a sit on one of the chairs and started filling page after page after page...Without realizing it, she had been falling asleep herself. One of her elbows on top of the table, the pen still in her hand, one of her cheeks squished against her closed fist and eyelashes fluttered together.

She woke up a few seconds after the stranger, upon hearing movement. Her eyes took a few moments to adjust. "How are you feeling?"

[member="The Matador"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

His vocal cords rustled in stern breaths and mumbled groans, reacquainting themselves with proper use for the rest of the day to come, and likely the next few as well. He pulled himself up from the gurney in an instant, and saw his Doctor napping. His body felt lazy, but quickly fell in line as he stretched out. Both physically and through the force as well. He could feel the tension of the people in this hospital, they stank of fear. However, his Doctor did not. He had to admire that bravely, in some small capacity he did. But not for very long, the admiration was soon diminished.

"You were sleeping? You were supposed to be keeping watch." He spoke somewhat angrily, shooting her a look that might've killed a lesser women. He quickly moved for his gear, but found himself moving too quickly again. His mental strength was empowering his body, however it was still very much so trying to recuperate. He frowned, looking at his Doctor. He was practically in his small clothes, and entirely uncomfortable at that fact. He looked away from her, and with some effort; was able to begin to at the very least fit back into his body glove. With all the effort it took him to put on the body glove, he only managed on his boots and leg armour on top of that. "I can't be ill-prepared. Regardless of what you advise..." He strained for a moment, firmly buckling his armoured boots. It felt good to have his Beskar, his second skin on his body once more. Even if it was just a little of it.

He sat back, the cold metal of the hospital walls waking up his nerves in his back. He felt the softness of the bandages around him body, they were little comfort. He took his lightsaber in his hands, his lightsaber. He had killed a man first, and deconstructed theirs first a thousand times over before he made his own. He was 12, when he killed his first man. It was a Jedi Padawan, it made him reflect on all the men he had thoughtlessly slaughtered with his own. All the same, they had gotten in his way. Better them in the ground than him, the same assessment could be made for every single thug on this planet.

He had no qualms being their tour guide to the grave. He was the, Matador. That was his existence, and he wrestled the bull. He tamed it, in whatever shape or form it came. He stared the enemy down and defeated it every time.

[member="Pamnis Hosk"]

 

[Pamnis Hosk]

Pamnis answered his angry face with a relaxed one of hers, almost as if she had been expecting his scolding. "I told them to come wake you up if anything happened. In the meantime I had work to do and yes, I fell asleep. I'm near-human, it happens." She said. She had the very strong feeling this man was just as hard on himself as he was on others. She wouldn't have been so calm if she didn't trust her coworkers to alert them of any relevant change. She looked at him while he was in movement, her observant eyes analyzing his wounds once more. She had done everything she could, what was left to do was to rest but that was not an option for him and he had made that pretty clear.

"They haven't come to check the hospital yet. But as far as I'm concerned, I do not have a good feeling about this." Pamnis admitted, standing up and moving towards the window, intending to look out into the streets. Sadly, the sun was falling and her half-Hapan eyes would just grow more and more useless. Of course, inside the hospital with good lighting she was perfectly fine but there was no going out into the streets at late hours when you didn't know a thing about self defense and were as myope as they come.

The doctor looked at him, thinking for a moment. She had a question floating inside her head but was uncertain of the benefits of asking it. If they found him in here, or if he went out there to confront them he would be at a great disadvantage. At least according to the little battle-knowledge she had, stored somewhere inside her medical head. She decided to keep it to herself. If he trusted himself enough to do it, and seeing how their current situation was, there wasn't much of an option but to trust him too. She sighed.

"Let me check your vitals...and we'll see about those stim shots." She said, her change in decision fueled mainly by the strong feeling of danger tying knots deep inside her chest.

[member="The Matador"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

The Doctor made excuses, regardless of why she made them. The Matador finally examined the room he was in, not a state of the art medical facility. But, they made do or so it seemed. He peered through the glass window in the doorway to her office, looking at those who had taken refuge here. Many wounded, many nurses and doctors were constantly on the move; many looked like they hadn't slept since the beginning of this.

Two days had past, and they were not perhaps warriors like him. But still; they had a duty. As he did now. "Fine. Check my vitals." He replied, almost in a defeated tone. Once more, he could feel it now; she felt it too. Danger was on the horizon and the sooner he left then all the better it would be for her and the people here. He looked back at her, she looked groggy and frail. He assumed she wasn't trained in the use of the force, but had some potent abilities regardless. "You use that mystic power, like me. But not the same." He used it to destroy, she used it to heal. Both, saw the other use as abhorrent likely. But her power saved his life, and his might just save all of these people.

[member="Pamnis Hosk"]

 

[Pamnis Hosk]

She walked to him and started doing her job. It didn't take a genius to realize he didn't feel comfortable with her around, so she tried to make his suffering as short as possible. Blood pressure, reflexes, lungs...heart rate. Not all of them where vitals but her concern had led her to check for more than strictly necessary. She wasn't too enthusiastic with the idea of giving him stim shots since his body wasn't fully healed.

But it was their best shot nonetheless. "Are you sure you want them?" She asked one last time, letting some of her uncertainty show. Maybe he had reconsidered just like she had, but she doubted it. He wanted to fight and he would want them because of that.

Her green eyes raised to him, slight confusion in their depths at his statement. "The Force?" She asked, more rhetorically, "Yes...I don't know much besides healing." It had been an interesting comment. "Certainly can't do what you can."

[member="The Matador"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

"No doubt of that." He replied, taking the stims she had given to him. If things got dire, he would make use of them. For now, they were just something to flll his pocket and give some small comfort. The Matador watched her body language change, perking with curiosity at his mention of their shared gift.

It was clear from her comment that both had been thinking on their associated strength and the quite clear difference in its utility. "I need to suit up." Was he next comment, speaking with a haste that implied a negligence of his thoughts regarding the topic they had brushed over just then. He began to move, with much more fluidity than previously seen.

As he pulled himself together, his armour came to return to its homely shape around his body. His skin returned to its begging flesh. One strap and buckle after another, the spinal track connecting to his own; it truly was a second skin. He stopped, looking at his helmet for a moment. Then again at the Doctor. "Do you know why they locked off the city, Doctor?" He asked, it almost seemed rhetorical as he placed his helmet over his face. The cold stern metal almost shared the colourless expression of its owner. A lack of doubt or movement in its facial makeup, but endlessly stern. His voice became slightly muffled however the confines of the helmet sufficiently added the projection of his gravely voice. "You must have been wondering." He spoke again, now with much more confidence and almost a taunting nature in his tone.

He was much more himself now, using the force to place his Saber on his belt once more whilst he placed his Great-axe in its magnetic holster on his back. He did not remove his glare from her however, watching her every movement.

[member="Pamnis Hosk"]

 

[Pamnis Hosk]

She had always prided herself in not being an easy one to scare but she was also no liar, and Pamnis had to admit that it was quite intimidating seeing him in his battle armor now that his legs were not trembling under his weight and his voice was not interrupted by growls of pain. She looked at him, or rather at the helmet covering his face, with big, thoughtful and transparent eyes. Social communication was one of her best skills. Even when disliking to do so, the Doctor knew how to pretend very well if she needed to. How to keep her thoughts or feelings from showing in her expressions. But there were other times, like now, in which she simply let it flow and somewhat with at least some observant skills would have been able to tell at least the general aspects of them.

His question bounced inside her head, and she was able of telling why. Something was telling her to overthink it, that there was something else there than just curiosity. Because yes, of course she had a theory or two of what had instigated the guerrilla in Dredd, but now again cartels were quite easy to provoke and she had ultimately come to the conclusion that there was not much of a point in beating her mind over the topic when she had hundreds of people waiting for her assistance.

"No, I don't know why they locked it." She answered, keeping her eyes static on him as a myriad of thoughts ran through her mind. Her breath became slightly heavier, she knew there was something off and not being able to tell exactly what triggered some of her most basic instincts, as though she was in actual, immediate danger. "Do you?" the question slipped off her tongue before she even realized she had said it, and Pamnis waited for his answer clinging on to the patient she knew she had within her.

[member="The Matador"]