Risk vs Reward

“We should go back, show those jerks who we really are!”

“Please, keep going! We need to get away while we have the chance!”

“We need time to think, somewhere to catch our breath. We need quiet!”

The poorly lit backstreets of Starhaven’s Draffsnarl district are interrupted by a lone silhouette limping through them, cradling an injured arm against their chest. Anyone not minding their own business in the less than reputable section of the refugee center that Starhaven was becoming would hear three distinct voices arguing in hushed tones, though the sight of a single individual would then leave them confused. The shadowed figure pauses for a moment, seemingly assessing their situation. The sound of several heavy footfalls bounce off the strange buildings making up the labyrinth of this section, making it impossible to tell how close they are. A moment longer and the figure darts off down another alleyway, away from the approaching footsteps.

“No, not away! Back towards them! We can beat them! Let us have control!”

“Keep going, keep going! Let us have control, we’ll make sure we get somewhere safe!”

The shadowed figure lurches in different directions for a moment, arms and legs spasming as though they were pulled by invisible forces apart from the center. A slight whimper echoes off the close walls of the alleyway as the injured arm flails, and the figure stops, clutching the arm once again.

“Stop! We are not giving up. We don’t have what we came for, and we are not leaving without it. We need to work together for a change, instead of bickering! Else we may as well do those thugs jobs for them.”

A moment of silence hangs in the air, as the lights flickers on above the figure, outlining a feminine form clad in utilitarian clothes. Fox-like ears sit atop their head, a mane of reddish brown hair with highlights of yellow and purple frame their face. Three tails swish back and forth seemingly in annoyance, before the light flickers out once again.

“….Fine.”

“….ok.”

“Good.”

Moving again, the figure heads towards the only lit doorway in the alley. Testing the door and finding it unlocked, they push their way inside, the door closing behind them silently. Inside, the room is shadowed, the only light coming from the streets outside. Debris from a makeshift camp, long abandoned, litters the room. They move into the mess, grabbing pieces of tarpaulin and long pieces of broken supply crates as they head towards a rickety looking discarded chair. Slowly they sit down, testing the chairs integrity, and when it holds they begin to set their injured arm as best they can, clawed fingers easily ripping through the tarpaulin to create strips to tie the sling together. The process is slow and seemingly painful, as the figure winces several times during the process. Ears perk up halfway through as the heavy footfalls get closer, and they freeze, breath stuck in their lungs for what seems forever before the footfalls depart. A long sigh escapes into the night, and the last few knots are tied on the makeshift sling as time passes once again.

“Hmmph, idiots. Didn’t even check the door.”

“That’s a good thing though, right?”

“Yes, and now, we have the advantage. Let’s hunt, sisters.”

“FINALLY!”

The doorway opens, the darkened interior broken only by a slight flash of light, as a mirror reflects the scene outside of it. The figure steps out into the alley once again, their stride, before limping and afraid, now full of confidence (if not also limping slightly still). No footfalls are heard as they retrace their steps through the alleys, even as they move quickly back towards the point of their previous confrontation. Slowing their pace, anyone watching would see the figure take on a predatory gait, almost disappearing amongst the shadows. Finally, their gaze settles on their target; another worn looking building, but this one guarded at its lone entrance.

“Only two? We are disappointed.”

“We must have drawn off a fair number of them….that’s helpful.”

“Let’s make this quick then, shall we?”

For guards, the two at the doorway are not good at their jobs. Neither one notices the figure move up behind the one to the left, just as he leans over to light a cigarette, the one on the right scanning through a magazine with scantily clad human females on it. The figure’s look of concentration as they strike changes to a feral grin, the guard’s cigarette falling from his mouth as his muscles seize, dropping him unceremoniously to the ground, momentarily paralyzed. Moving quickly, the figure dances to the right, the feral grin snapping back into rigid determination as they catch the guard’s chin in a powerful uppercut, knocking him unconscious. Standing amongst their downed foes, a look of concern crosses the figure’s face before they turn to the door.

“Sorry, we’re in a bit of a hurry. You’ll be able to move, just not until we’re done.”

“Oh don’t pity them. Wasn’t even a good fight!”

“Come on, let’s not waste time, or we’ll still be here when the others return.”

Inside, the warehouse is a mess of goods and sundries strewn about, almost as though they were in various stages of sorting at some point earlier in the day. The figure walks among the tables strewn with various goods and, grabbing a bag, begins filling it with items. The items going into the bag are a bit eclectic; clothes, knick knacks, various dried foodstuffs, no multiples of the same thing. As they work through the tables, they stop, noticing a humanoid figure slumped against a wall, it’s grey skin almost blending in. Small Preserver robots surround the humanoid, attempting to move the humanoid from it’s location. Casting their gaze back to the door, they quickly move over to the individual, shooing the small robots away from it placing a hand on it’s shoulder. It’s eyes open, and it looks up at the figure.

“Curious. Most of my memories appear to be missing. I do not know how I came to be in this place, and I am unsure as to who you are. Have we met?” the grey humanoid states, slowly rising to it’s feet.

“We are Ailynn, and no, we don’t believe we have. Are you alright?”

The grey humanoid rolls its neck and shoulders. “No permanent damage to my being is detected, though I detect I am not operating at one hundred percent capacity. I am Chimera, though I am unsure how I recall that designation. Query; what is this place?”

Ailynn shrugs her shoulders. “Drop off point for some of the gangs of Starhaven. Things they “collect” as taxes or “protection money” are brought here. We are just taking a few things off of their hands.”

Chimera looks to the bag, and then back at her. “I do not believe I am payment for these gangs.”

A wide grin spread across Ailynn’s face, showcasing her fangs, and she gave a short laugh. “No, we don’t think so either. Want to help us get what we came for?”

The emotionless grey face considered Ailynn for a moment, then nodded.

As the two spread out among the tables, filling bags with items taken from their rightful owners, those that had once chased Ailynn return, finding their comrades on the ground unconscious. Shouts and calls over comms commenced, before several individuals stand before the door, kicking it in.

“Shit, looks like they’re quicker than we thought.”

“We’re in trouble again, aren’t we?”

“Stow it, and help us figure a way out of here.”

Chimera drops the ration pack he is holding, as the thugs swarm into the room. They number about ten, and most of them spread out to surround the pair, a few staying back to guard the exit.

“Mistress Ailynn, it appears we have company. How should we handle this?” Chimera asked, no trace of fear in his voice.

“Mistress? Hmmm….looks like we need to fight our way out. Can you assist us with that?”

“Affirmative.”

Chimera doubles in size, startling both the thugs and Ailynn. The thugs hesitate for a moment, before one rushes forward, swinging a large rod at Chimera. It bounces off his chest and the thug looks at him agape, before Chimera’s fist is the last thing he remembers for quite some time. The room devolves into a rather one sided brawl, Chimera acting as a shield as Ailynn moves around the room utilizing hit and run tactics. Soon, the fight is finishd, all of the thugs either downed or fleeing.

“Oh, we like him.”

“We think so too…we should help him. We think he’s a bit like us; he doesn’t have anyone else.”

“Well Chimera, what do you say? Do you want to come with us?”

Chimera looks to Ailynn, then grabs the bags they had filled. “I find that agreeable. After you, Mistress Ailynn.”

The two leave the warehouse, stepping over the bodies of the unconscious thugs on their way out of the Draffsnarl and back to Ailynn’s home. There, they check the items against the requests on Ailynn’s data pad, sorting the goods into various piles to be delivered after a good night’s rest.