Private Strangers Like Me

[Wrenarias]

Nar Shaddaa...​

Pain.

It was almost blinding as Wrenarias staggered through the crowded streets of Nar Shaddaa's underbelly. Both bones in her wrist were shattered, face battered and bruised, her muscles screamed in protest with every step that she took -- but she pressed on.

They were chasing her. She couldn't see them; but she could sense their malice rippling out through the Force. An ominous presence that prowled blindly after their prey.

Every breath sent blossoms of agony shooting up her torso, clawing at her throat. Cracked ribs, perhaps? She wasn't sure if it was a broken rib, or internal damage. Either way, it wasn't a good sign. As she weaved through the crowds, she kept her broken arm clasp close to her chest in an effort to stabilize it -- and to avoid touching anyone that got too close.

Her essence felt frayed, like a raw wound that'd been scraped across the ground. She grit her teeth firmly together, keeping her eyes downcast.

Several passerby glanced her way, noting the blood and torn clothes, but no one offered to help. Most quickly turned their gaze away from her, clearly not wanting to get involved in whatever mess she'd been caught up in. Not that she could blame them. That was the way of things here on Nar Shaddaa. If you stuck your nose where it didn't belong, you were more likely to lose it than anything. Altruism was swiftly punished in a place like this.

The world started to tilt wildly, colors blurring together. Bile rose up in her throat as she tried to keep her balance, but accidentally banged her broken arm against the wall of a building. All she wanted was to find somewhere to hide, to close her eyes and rest.

She leaned against the building for a few moments, trying to catch her breath. When she brushed against the wall, her side catching on a small outcropping; she noticed a smear of red against the metal surface. Slowly blinking her eyes, she ducked down at back alley behind a shady looking bar. No one would think too much of someone passed out behind such an establishment... or at least, she hoped they wouldn't.

Ozzie Ozzello

 

[Ozzie Ozzello]

Ozzie stretched his arms out wide, loosening the tension in his muscles. Today was a good day. His tail flickered back and forth lightly, as if he was nothing more than a big kid ready for a playful romp. Then his eyes drove southwards to the person beneath him. A Rodian. Shattered and torn apart like a broken toy, all of its energy and play worn out of it. Yet his chest still rose with each struggling breath, grasping for something that he couldn't - no, would never have: a future.

"What have you done to benefit society?" The deep, rumbling question came from the feline-man. "Hm?"

The broken alien coughed once, crimson staining the duracrete. "By doing my best, living my best. I even paid your frelling stupid gang when they came and asked for it. What else do you want me to do?"

Ozzie slowly drew into a crouch, taking great care to keep his coattails out of the muck and grim. "Maybe try harder? Pay more? Do better? Because ultimately, you have done nothing. We protect you and keep these streets clean and you figure it's in your best interest to talk about us behind our backs? You think you can get away with all of this fear-mongering because you're a scared little rodent?"

This time the cough was directed at him, sending globs of mucus and spit at him. Another fist came down, although this time it was mercifully free of the vibro-knuckler from earlier. Right into the side of his stupid, green face. Whatever was left of the thing's cheekbone was now gone, only replaced by an animalistic, guttural cry of pain. An animal trapped in a corner with nowhere to go.

Yet the defiance still remained. Hatred burned in those large eyes, struggling to fixate on the crouching man. "What have you done to benefit society?"

Ozzie smiled, proudly displaying his incisors. "By ridding it of idiots like you."

With finality, one more heaving blow came down on the rodian's head. Silence, everlasting silence greeted the back alley like a break in the clouds. Ozzie carefully reached downwards to wipe what was left of the deed off on the alien's clothing, frowning with disgust. As he began to stand, crashing and painful panting came from behind, echoing down the alleys of Nar Shaddaa. It was as commonplace as the grime on the streets and the clouded, murky air that they breathed.

But he was in a good mood. That was all of his work done for the day, and now he could finally do as he pleased. Curiosity had already sent his ears twitching in that direction, and that never ever killed the cat.

With a grunt, he rose with finality and turned to traipse through the alley.

"Helloooo~?" Ozzie called eagerly. "Who's thereee?"

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

Keep moving.

She tried to force herself to regain her feet, to keep running, but her body refused to heed her commands. Her injuries made it impossible for her to push herself any further. The collar clamped around her neck dampened her connection to the Force, leaving her in a muddled state that felt like trying to stumble through a thick fog in darkness.

There was someone else in the alley.

She heard the masculine voice call out, it sounded almost playful. Or perhaps taunting. In her condition, she couldn't tell the difference. Was he one of the hunters?

Instinct told her to hide, but she didn't know where to go.

Not that it mattered anyway, her legs made the decision for her as they gave out, sending her crashing into the side of a trash compactor with a resounding thud. Scrambling, she pulled herself out of the center of the alley until her back was pressed against a grime covered wall. She was wedged between the trash compactor and a storage container. It wasn't much of a hiding space, but it was something.

Ozzie Ozzello

 

[Ozzie Ozzello]

The lack of a response irritated him. Who in there right mind would be as rude to not answer him of all people? It wasn't like he wanted them to be thankful for his service, but a polite response would be nice. Ozzie could be civilized, yes, and he quite enjoyed people doing the same. It might've only been Nar Shaddaa but - gods above - the least they could do say 'please' and shake hands amiably.

The silence greeted him. Then a thud, a thunk, and an exasperated sigh that sounded almost... scared.

Ozzie's tail wagged eagerly as he stalked through the alley. A new toy perhaps? One that might've been just as broken and boring as his last. Granted, he had been told to come and take care of his most recent one, but momma and papa never said he couldn't bring home new ones. With that new thought surfacing, Ozzie happily prowled down each and every alley he could find. The sound had made it easier to seek out the source, and a new smell had wafted in as well.

The man sniffed the air, eyes half-lidded as ears twitched to detect any other sounds.

Then he saw it. Just an ankle and foot unfortunately not hidden by the waste bin.

"I see youuu." His sing-song voice came once more, forcing his footfalls to come heavier as he approached. "It would be nice of you to say something back to me. Otherwise I might get a little angry."

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

Wren squeezed her eyes shut and quickly pulled her legs up to her chest, curling up against the wall. The new position caused something in her chest to click, which was not a good sign. A pained whimper was muffled behind pressed lips.

She couldn't sense anything about the man stalking towards her. Normally, she would have been able to read his aura, to see his colors... but with her collar there was nothing but a shadowy grey.

Fear was not something Wren succumbed to often. There was usually something more pressing that kept the fear at bay. But trapped in an alley, severely injured, with no weapon or connection to the Force to draw on... she was terrified. She was in no condition to properly defend herself. It wasn't the man she was afraid of, she knew that much.

No, it was the helplessness.

"Stay... back... " She gasped out, her voice thickly laced with pain. Just the act of speaking was agonizing.

Ozzie Ozzello

 

[Ozzie Ozzello]

Ozzie didn't quite like being told what to do.

So he came closer, despite the voice's desperate plea. Or was it a warning? To be fair, he didn't quite care at the moment, especially since the voice sounded weak and strained. It only took a few more steps to see his prize, snugly tucked between a grime-covered dumpster and a storage bin that seemed far more rotten than the adjacent to it. And it smelled awful, almost to the point to where he wanted to physically gag and retch on the spot. However, he held his composure for the time being and focused his gaze on the alley's newest occupant.

Green skin, headtails, and a copious amount of dried blood and bruises. Not to mention the collar that hung around her throat and that helpless, oh-so terrified glimmer in her eyes.

Ozzie rounded around on her, peering down at the sight.

"You a lost little puppy?" Golden eyes twinkled with mirth. "Because you sure look, and smell like it."

Carefully, he took a step closer and slowly began to crouch before her. Eyes rolling over her like a pawn store owner inspecting a gem. Real or fraud.

"What's your deal?" Ozzie whispered.

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

Of all the things Wrenarias expected, Ozzie did not fit the bill for any of the figures conjured by her imagination. He was handsome, in a rugged sort of way, but the specks of blood that covered his jacket and sleeve did not go unnoticed. The expression in his golden eyes reminded her of the Sith that'd left her in this condition -- a strange excitement.

Wren had lost a considerable amount of blood, as was rather obvious from the dark crimson that stained her clothes -- which was probably the first thing someone would notice when looking at her. The second was likely the cybernetic prosthetic that was also covered with gore and appeared broken in several places. Lastly, however, Wren's eyes were not quite... right. The sclera were not white, as they should have been, but instead were a strange dark smoke color; and her irises were a brilliant pale gray.

She licked her lips and dropped her head back against the wall behind her as Ozzie crouched down.

The entire front of her throat was caked with dried blood, some looked to still be rather wet.

Speaking was absolute torture, as it require her to move her mutilated tongue. It wasn't impossible, but she had to choose her words carefully to use as few as possible. When she did speak, it was in a hoarse gasp that made it clear there was blood in her mouth and her words were slightly slurred together.

"Had... a bad day..." She groaned, eyeing the man warily. If he wanted to hurt her, there wasn't much she was going to be able to do about it. Worse yet, if he took her to some slaver, or back to the Sith, she'd probably die.

Ozzie Ozzello

 

[Ozzie Ozzello]

Another broken toy. Battered and shattered like a disappointing plaything thrown against a wall. Ozzie almost pitied her for a moment, staring deep into those abominable eyes. The bruiser frowned for a moment, brazenly peering at the blood-speckled, gored form before him. What an absolute mess of a living being, and it wasn't even him or a Black Lotus boy that had done this. Blades were never their thing - 'blunt force trauma' like papa said was their forte. Fists, vibro-hammers, and even wooden planks.

This was not their work. This displeased him greatly.

"Who, or what, made your day so bad then, darlin'?"

Just a hint of sweetness to the edge in his voice. Figuring out who else was ruining folks like this around his turf was supremely important. Problems in his realm of authority always spelled problems for momma and papa.

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

There was a long pause as Wren frantically tried to think of an answer. She was afraid to be honest, but she'd never been a very good liar. It was always plain as day on her face when she tried. The worst thing that could really happen at this point would be him either trying to hand her back over to Evelynn, or just getting scared off and leaving her alone in the alley.

It seemed like a reasonable gamble.

She grimaced when he asked another question that required a spoken answer. When she tilted her head back for a moment to gather what little strength she had left, he'd be able to see the stab wound on the underside of her jaw -- blood still slowly trickling from the deep wound.

Her mind wandered briefly, wondering why she was even struggling to stay conscious at this point. She could just drift off to sleep and not have to worry about anything else again. Couldn't the man just let her die in peace?

Exhaling softly, she finally answered.

"A sith..."

Ozzie Ozzello

 

[Ozzie Ozzello]

Whether she was lying or not, Ozzie would have no idea. He wasn't much of a liar himself, and the trembling, blood-caked lips of hers seemed apt to spill the truth. If she was anything like the creature he was, then she'd definitely be wearing her heart on her sleeve in such a dire hour. Yet Ozzie was happy to sit here as long as it took to get answers. Even as blood still flowed from raw rounds, as bruises formed on a shattered ribcage.

Oh, how comforting the sound of weak, raspy breathing was.

"Sith?" The man pondered the word for a moment. "No idea who that is, but I'm sure I can figure it out. Thank you, young lady."

His incisors gleamed in another tight, playful smile.

"Now that you've helped me, I would welcome a barter of sorts. Y'know, since you scratched my back then I'll scratch yours." His elbows came to rest on his knees, shifting his crouch. "But if you ask me for intensive medical care, then I'll have to adjust my price - and it doesn't look like you have much time to decide."

The bruiser gestured at her broken, defiled body as if it were a biology class project.

"I'll even put the additional fee up front: You will be mine if you choose to accept." Ozzie snickered and shook his head. "Not slavery or anything of that sort, but a life debt. You owe me big time, little lost puppy."

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

For a fleeting moment, Wren considered telling the rather snide man off and that she'd rather die alone next to the garbage can. The possessiveness of the word "mine" put her off. It was a word that she'd come to utterly despise throughout the course of her life.

When she tried to move again, she burst into a fit of wet coughs that wracked her battered body. Blood splattered against the duracreet as she turned her head to the side, gasping for breath. "Mngh..."

She could see the old man in her mind's eye, standing over her with his arms crossed over his chest. Why did she keep dredging up those painful memories? Pride's a stupid kriffing thing to die over. He would have said, with his usual scowl, no doubt.

Her eyes flicked over to Ozzie, wiping her blood-caked lips with the back of her left hand -- her right was too mangled and broken to use.

"Don't... see that I have.. much of a... a choice." She croaked out, wincing with every word she spoke. The act of speaking was agonizing in and of itself. Maybe she would be better off of the strange man just left her here. "Sure..."

Ozzie Ozzello

 

[Ozzie Ozzello]

Bruised, broken, and seemingly wanted. What a pitiful being this was, left wayward and lost for something else to come along and snatch up before it passed. Lo and behold, the old adage was true: one man's trash was another's treasure. What lurked beneath those eyes was prideful defiance, staring Ozzie down just as much as it was staring death down - enough to the point where she had apparently survived this long.

Most men didn't survive gruesome wounds like this. She would be useful. Very.

"Alright then," he grinned, "It's a deal. I'll stay true to my word and get ya all cleaned up, mmkay?"

He held his hands out as if he was about to cradle a beloved family pet. "I don't assume you can walk, much less stand. I'll, uh, be gentle."

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

As he started to reach for her, Wren tensed up expecting him to either hurt her or for him to react poorly to the bridge that would inevitably form between them. She was in no condition to properly control her abilities.. though the collar around her neck would actually do a lot of the work for her. Licking her split lips, she quickly glanced between his outstretched hands and his face.

Eventually her eerie gaze settled onto his. She looked as though she was on the verge of passing out.

"I don't... I don't know what'll happen..." She managed to say, but with considerable effort. Her words sounded disjointed and dazed, struggling just to utter a simple sentence.

Whenever Ozzie did touch her, he would feel the faintest of flickers pulse through his hands. It was weak, but in that brief moment he'd feel her fear and glimpse her pain.

Wren sucked in a sharp breath, terrified that something horrible was about to happen.

Ozzie Ozzello

 

[Ozzie Ozzello]

The touch was something akin to placing your bare hand on a stove top. A blazing hot feeling as if his nerve ending were being frayed alive. The shock and surprise almost escaped his lips, but it sent a burning shock through his bones, stiffening them to iron. The pain and initial shock of the touch slowly subsided, a dull sense of desperation and pulsating pain quickly arrived to replace it. Ozzie snarled at the feeling instinctively, clenching his baring teeth to contain himself.

"You do that again," he breathed, "And I kill you."

Only clenched teeth and tightened muscles helped contain the animal threatening to break loose. Ozzie was in no shape or form to be shifting into his bestial alter ego at this moment. It always ended up being an absolute disaster - it was something he could hardly contain or control without any forcible effort. He was a young man and never put much thought into learning how to do so. Not many Felacatians were around here, so it was hard to find someone to teach him about himself.

However, the fraying ends of his nerves soon settled into that dull state, as if he been beaten by many men in the pits. Ghost bruises and pain wracked his body as he forced himself to pull the broken and crippled woman into his arms. Ozzie growled deeply once more, straining against the raw sensation as he lifted her from the ground and stood.

"To the doctor's office." Ozzie cooed.

And off he went.

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

She felt it. The beast that strained against Ozzie's will and sought to free itself. Had she been a touch more coherent, it might have raised several questions from the woman; but as it stood, she focused on not throwing up as he gathered her in his arms.

"I'm sorry..." She managed weakly, her voice thick with pain and embarrassment.

Her head lolled forward, eyes blinking slowly before eventually rolling shut. A soft sigh slipped from her lips and her forehead came to rest against the stranger's chest as he carried her through the streets of Nar Shaddaa.

The fear and pain of the initial contact faded away, replaced by an oddly comforting warmth that gradually spread through his form, seeming to originate from wherever he touched her. It was as if the soothing sensation of being wrapped in a cozy blanket had manifested itself into an emotion.

"Thank you..." She mumbled in a faint whisper.

Ozzie Ozzello

 

[Ozzie Ozzello]

She tried to speak, faintly as if she was already losing consciousness.

"Shut up," he cut her off curtly. "Just be quiet and let me take care of you. Save your breath, puppy."

Ozzie then promptly began to shoulder his way through the crowded streets of Nar Shaddaa. He was no unfamiliar face around these parts, and the sight of a broken and dazed form in his arms beckoned no more glances than necessary. It was the usual, whether it be from slavery or even someone toting a fallen loved one to the local clinic. Especially since emergency services were slower than a droid with a missing CPU. You had to do everything yourself with little to no help, and it didn't seem like anyone else wanted to help his little puppy either.

Normally people would be asking if they were okay and if they could call an ambulance. But here? Asking questions like that was a good way to get a blaster shoved into your mouth, or even worse depending on who you asked. Luckily, it all worked out for Ozzie in the end. His large size and swaggering gait made finding amble elbow-room quite easy, not that his threatening gaze had anything to contribute to it. Bad tidings would come to any daring to jostle him or the girl that he carried.

After a few minutes of walking, he was inside of the back alley medical clinic. It was shoddy, messier than most, and stunk to high heavens of antiseptics and cleaning agents. At least it still smelled like a normal hospital, given all of the effort that its sole proprietor put into making sure it was mostly sterile. The lobby was empty, despite all of the lights on, and nobody sat behind the counter.

Ozzie slammed the door behind him, grunting his arrival as he strode to the counter.

"Lloyd! Get out here!" The man paused, waiting a few more seconds before yelling once more. "Doctor Garris~!"

That one seemed to get his attention. The opening of a door in the backdrop and hurried footsteps announced the arrival of one Doctor Lloyd Garris. He was a tall, bespectacled man with rosy cheeks, a nervous smile, and always seemed to absently toy with a broken pocketwatch. That same nervous smile grew even wider when he saw the large man waiting at his countertop.

"Ah, Ozzie, my boy. How are you? Coming back in from the pits? Is there som-"

The deepening frown cut him off. "No, I am not here for me. The girl. Fix her up and I'll pay you double what I normally do."

Doctor Garris hurriedly nodded, pushing his glasses further up his nose and surveying the girl with the trained eye of a medical professional. "Oh heavens.." he breathed, "What happened? No, wait, no questions asked. I'm sorry. I don't know if I can quite fix everything I se-"

"Yes you can. Screw it, make it triple."

Garris's smile lost its nervous quiver as it broadened. "Of course, of course I can. Just take her into the back and I'll be right with you."

Ozzie gave a grumbling sigh as he did so, watching Garris disappear back into the clinic to gather his things. Ozzie already knew his way around this place all too well, from coming here often enough when his magical healing self didn't heal all too completely. Grunting, Ozzie hefted the girl tighter into his grasp as he found an empty room ready for them. Gently, he placed his puppy on the bed.

"You owe me big time, little puppy." He whispered, carefully placing his wrist against her forehead. No fever. No infected wounds, probably.

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

The strange man who carried her, Ozzie, was rather brusque. If she'd been in better condition, Wren probably would have been a little put off by his rough demeanor; but in her current state she was barely even aware of her surroundings.

What she did notice, was the tone of his voice, the way that it sounded. The scent of his clothes was distinct from a life spent on the streets of Nar Shaddaa; but it wasn't altogether unpleasant.

She gave a small nod as gently placed her onto the bed. Her face turned towards his arm when he touched her forehead, grimacing. The words he said we're jumbled in her mind and it took her a few moments to decipher their meaning.

"Mhm..." She moaned weakly, her eyes rolling shut for a brief moment. "I... I know..."

 

[Ozzie Ozzello]

Brusque was his middle name.

Just kidding. Ozzie didn't have a middle name.

But with that in mind, the feline man realized he didn't even know the name of this lost little puppy. Entirely unknown was she to him, other than the fact that she now owed him a lifedebt until he was satisfied. Maybe never? Who knew, but it was always nice to have a little company around regardless if they liked him or not. He had business to attend to - lots of it. If she had managed to survive such grievous wounds such as this then she could definitely hold herself up in a scuffle. Bigger, stronger men had perished from less and her rising chest was a testament to the toughness displayed.

Ozzie sighed and pulled his forearm away from her head, surveying her broken form with a quick dart of the eyes. He was no doctor but it definitely looked and smelled gross. Dried blood had this coppery, pungent odor to it that was almost as unmistakable as the stench of death itself. It contrasted sharply with the sterile air in the clinic, yet Ozzie didn't shy from her side in the slightest. Rather, he snatched a magazine up from the desk and collapsed loudly into a rolling chair nearby.

Something about grav-ball. Five months old and definitely out of date, but at least the pictures in it looked nice. The scribblings of text were unknown to him but he hardly cared. Images and videos were always worth more than words.

Doctor Garris arrived shortly thereafter. Clad in a fresh coat and carrying the instruments of healing, or what he already lacked in this well-stocked room. The pair didn't speak, only exchanged a knowing glance as Ozzie maintained ownership of the doctor's rolling chair. The doctor opted to stand and operate anyways, dismissing Ozzie quickly and setting to repairing the broken girl before him.

First came the anesthesia. Painless, soundless medical work soon began.

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

When she woke again, Wren had no concept of how much time had passed. Hours? Days? There was no way for her to know.

She blinked her eyes a few times and grimaced. While she wasn't in unbearable agony anymore, she was left with deep aches in her bones. They were on the mend, the medicine and procedures from the backstreet doctor seemed to be doing their work surprisingly well. Even her tongue felt as though most of its dexterity had returned.

For the first time since the initial injury, she was able to lick her lips without choking on blood in the process. Her head lolled slightly to the side, and a soft moan escaped her.

It was then that she noticed the red-headed man seated nearby, fuzzy ears perched cutely on the top of his head. He looked familiar, but she wasn't quite sure where she'd seen him before.

"Where... Where am I?" She stammered, her voice hoarse and strained.