Log:The Perfect High pt 4

The Perfect High pt 4

OOC Date: April 2, 2019
Location: Coruscant
Participants: Hopp Nooram, Mujiji, Netep Muri, Kasia Ashkuri, Guri, Usha, and Saturi

"Okay so," Hopp grates in his cacophonous rasp of a voice as he leads his little crew along through the alleys of Coruscant's underbelly, pushing a smallish gravsled in front of himself. "Here's how it's- here's how it is. It's been a hot- a hot minute since Ol' Hopp's been on Coruscant, alright, and- and- I mean, I haven't been back here since the Empire closed up shop and we- I mean they- since they shut down the uh- you know, it's not important, but uh, here's how it's gonna go."

He roots a cig from the box in his breast pocket, shoves it in the corner of his frown, and lights up, taking a few puffs before he continues. "As previously mentioned, I've been off the scanners around here for a while so- so hopefully no one recognizes me, alright, I- I got a bit of a reputation around here, or at least I used to, and we wouldn't have come here for this here spice if it wasn't something special, okay, and- and technically we could get it from one of the moons of Oovo, yes, alright, we could- we could do that, but it- the refinement, it's- it's expensive! REALLY expensive, okay, and- and time-consuming, we- the TIME! When you're as old as I am, when- when you- when just bending over to put your boots on requires the application of a medicinal salve, you'll understand, okay, I- I can't stress this enough, we- time is short here for me, I'm an old man, I've lived hard, I've- I've done a lot things that- that- you know, maybe weren't so kind to my body, we- we all experiment, alright."

Where is he going with this? By now he's lead them through so many switchbacks and weird dead ends that turned out not to be dead ends it's hard to say, in a literal and metaphorical sense. "So uh, here's how it's gonna go. This gang, they're- they're punks, okay, and I'm basing that on the fact that they weren't around when I was, so how tough can they really have gotten in the last... thirty or so years since then. I- you- we're gonna steal it, okay, we- I told 'em we're here to buy but we're here to steal. Normally I'd have a plan for this but tonight we're goin' in *hot*, alright." Here he stops and opens the lid of the box on the gravsled. "I need one of you to get in this box, see, and- and instead of credits, when they open it up, boom, there's- it's you in there instead. And then, I mean, from there we just play it by ear, okay."

His 'little' crew? Is that supposed to /mean/ something?! The part of Mujiji's brain that reminds her to be irrationally ornery at imagined slights lights up, though she can't for the life of her figure out why. In between their employer's ramblings, she is muttering out of the corner of her mouth to anyone that will listen. "And did anyone else need a change after passin' th'damn /Dreadnaught/?" The Kushiban demands, gesticulating wildly. "I mean, s'not ever the kind of thing you want fillin' your viewport when you drop out of hyper." She's hardly a pilot, herself, but desperate times call for desperate measures - at least she knows what buttons to push. Well enough to get her here, regardless. "Sooner we're in an' out an' a/way/ from that I'll be happy."

And then Moo stops. "You mean me, don't you?" She deadpans, looking around at the other normal-sized sentients. "Unless it's one helluva box an' your arthritic knees can tuck close t'them ears." Wide eyes narrow - but she grins. "I've got grenades."

"So..." Muri saunters along after, looking the part of the sorta 'punks' that inhabit this underworld. It's NOT been so long since her last visit to the planet - a year, maybe, since she smuggled out some fam and a couple of old (like HOPP old) former colleagues. Years before she may have taken a little stroll or three TO the darker side of this grossly overpopulated rock for a break from the clean, legitimate profession in Academia....cuz as the man says, everyone experiments.

"...You want one of us to pop outta that like a really disappointing surprise, at some likely already irritable junkies expecting /money/? What comes next, we yell 'boo'?" She leans forward to peer IN the little casket-to-be, then sizes up present company. Mostly the one shorter - much shorter - than herself. "I mean, at least she's kinda cute?"

Kasia is here. Why? Who knows. Her life is crazy, so maybe she's just become accusstomed to the lunacy. But she's here, and she's armed, and she's trying to follow what it is Hopp is saying. "Okay." She looks from the older man, to the box, to everyone else that decided to join up for this madness. "I think I followed about a third of that, which feels like it's probably enough. I'm definitely not going to get into the box though." She casually eyes Mujiji, not naming any names, buuuuuuut... "So the rest of us are going to stand around looking good and waiting for the box, possibly full of grenades," and an angry, fluffy, adorable creature, "to be opened?" She's got a bag with her, which she wears with the strap across her body, which she opens to check the contents of briefly. "Nothing ever went wrong by surprising junkies, right?"

There's a measure of nostalgia for the underbelly of Coruscant for the droid that looks like a woman, or at the very least key points in her image processing center are met with hits on some internal cache. Even so, her baby-blues swivel to drink in familiar detail. Of the massive sprawling city, Guri has explored much.

"I'm sure with enough twists I could get him stuffed in there nice and neatly," Guri purrs in her sultry alto, starkly contrasting her dulcet voice against the raspy, drug-addled equivalent that Hopp calls a voice. Much like the human married to the walking couch, there's an edge to Guri's posture that suggests that she is reconsidering her reasoning for being present. Arms folded under her breast, she walks along quietly, happy to remain lingering a good meter or two before the rest.

"And what exactly are we getting out of helping you knock this line item off of your elderly bucket list, hmm?" Guri queries with a cock of her head and a crooked smile that's no less lovely for its lack of mirth.

"It just makes sense that it'd be you, I mean, I wasn't counting on getting someone as small as you are but- but look in the mirror, there, furball, you- you're perfect for this and you got grenades, alright. If there was such a thing as destiny, it- it would have brought us together today, okay. So I need you to get waaaay down in this box, okay, and- and don't make any sounds. Don't even breathe, if you can-" He stops mid-ramble to pull out a syringe. "You want some of this, actually? Here, you- just shoot some up if you do." He tosses it to Mujiji without further explanation on what it might do to her.

"And I want you to pop out like- like a bad magic trick, and initiate MAYHEM, which, unlike you prudes, the furball here is all too happy to provide. Take notes, kids, this is- this is what team spirit looks like, okay," he grouches to Muri, puffing at his cig while he waits for Mujiji to climb in so the box can be pushed again. "Just for that I want you to push the sled, maybe some of hers will rub off on you via osmosis."

Glancing towards Kasia and Guri, he just sighs. "The two of you are wayyyyy too attractive to need this money, so I mean, you *are* going to stand around looking good, that's just- that's a given with you two, but- but what I need you to do is be ready to back up the little Party Favor o' Destruction when she pops out of the box. And you're getting the same thing everyone who helps me gets: cash money, and the right to hit up my final creation and experience the Perfect High." What more could you want? "They'll be waiting at the end of the next alley," he adds, using the cherry at the end of his cig butt to get the next one smoking.

"Destiny. Right." It's pretty clear that the kushiban is going in the box. Resigned to her fate, Mujiji re-adjusts her belt and all the shiny, clanky little death balls that rattle around on it... She also has a knife on that belt, as well as a blaster strapped across her back over a tiny set of modified fiber armor. The rabbit came to /party/. She snatches the syringe out of the air, inspects it for a moment, sniffs it... And then jabs it into her own arm, right between the plates of armor. "This better be th'good stuff, boss." She grumbles, hopping into the box and folding herself down into it with an almost insulting amount of ease. Before those long ears disappear from view, she eyes Guri and Kasia. "Don't let'im get me killed, please." And then she's in the box.

"Medical bills and a decent story to pass around at the bar, be my guess." Muri wags her brows at Guri while fishing on her person for a little special smoke she'd traded for in Ko Hentota. Just a little medicine to calm the nerves. Once it's lit, the shifty smoke spiraling out of existance overhead appearances to have matched /yesterday's/ hair color. Damn. Should've stuck with the blue.

Both eyes finally level back out from their prolonged roll when Hopp ends his lecture on team spirit and she steps up to rest a hand on the sled. "Suits me just fine, old man." The other hand plucks the cig from her lips to study the smoldering end like she's questioning its contents. "M'sure I'll be feeling semipermeable in no time..." A shrug, a puff, and she gives the drugged furball a gentle push forward. "End of the next alley, here we come!"

"I bet you could make any of us fit into that box if you really had your mind set on it," Kasia observes to Guri, the corners of her mouth twitching a little with restrained amusement. Her attention goes back to Hopp, considering him for a moment. "Well thank you, I do try." It shows, she's clean, wearing makeup, her hair is done. She IS wearing pants, which is unusual, but they're definitely tailored for her rather than just some basic off the rack business. "But I'll do what I can to help that one, too, should it be needed." Mujiji gets a quick grin. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. Any special requests if you're not? We could have you stuffed?" She's going to get a grenade thrown at her.

Guri had not even bothered wearing armor for this excursion. Clad in Kuat finery that appears to be the assassin's clothing du jour as of late, the velvet textured, ashen colored second skin seems better suited to the incandescant cover of a holomag than a presaged junky battlefield.

"So, what you are telling me is that what you are providing is of literally no value to me," Guri notes flatly before making a sucking sound with her tongue on one carefully crafted canine. As for the sentient lagomorph, she lifts one gloved hand just long enough to flicker her fingers in a delicate, girly wave. "Byebye." A wolfish smile is paired lovingly with her sentiments.

"You are so sweet," Guri coos in Kasia's direction. As she walks forward, embellishing her hip-swaying saunter so that the drape of her garb swishes back and forth playfully, the assassin allows her eyes to track the other woman. At least until she can twist her head no more. "We flew all this way, we may as well try to have some fun."

Usha's spice looks different today. She pours out the typically white powder atop the lid of the box where Mujiji is snuggled inside, but for some reason it has flecks of green and blue and red and yellow. That's right, it's BIRTHDAY CAKE SPICE. Forming the substance into a line, the Zeltron dips her blue haired head down to SNOOOOOORRRTTT it all down like a big girl. "WOOOO!" Usha comes up grinning and SLAPS the top of the box before brushing the powder off. "26 YEARS. I. AM. READY." Sniffling, she also dusts her own nose off, "Let me at those PUNKS!"

Destiny. That might explain why Saturi agreed to tag along and help an elderly gentleman achieve his quest for the perfect high. That or the money. Regardless, the Pantoran has been trailing behind the group silently, listening as everyone speaks, and absorbing the scenery. She's dressed head to toe in the most generic clothing her money could buy. The woman wants to operate under the radar if possible, just in case she ever wants to return to this neck of the woods. Her Golden eyes linger about the group as people are voluntold into their given roles.

'At the end of the next alley', he said, and once Usha is done snorting spice off it, the party rounds the corner with Muri pushing the gravsled along and Hopp's gangly frame leading the way. The air is close down here, there's an acrid stench with an edge of methane to it, and the walls of the alley hang in at an unsettling angle, blocking out much of the artificial sunlight that would otherwise have shone down on them. Waiting, just as the old man said, are a number of thugs of varying shape, size, and species, with a panoply of weapons to match.

There's an Aqualish with a rifle; a Khil with a vibroblade; a Selkath with a force pike; a Snivvian with a repeater; a Gen'Dai with dual vibrodaggers. A rugged and surly crowd, to be sure, and when the Hoppites appear, a grizzled Toydarian flaps out of the shadows on leathery wings.

"Ehhh, you must be Nooram, youuu bring the money, yes?" he asks, rubbing stubby fingers together below his trunk-like snout. "We have youuuur spice here but only if you have uhhhhh the credits we agreeeeed on." Beady eyes narrow as they peer at the group. "And ehhhhh seems like you brought a... different crew than expected. Price has uhhh somewhat altered, we need ehhhh the blonde woman's jewelry to sweeten the deal."

Hopp crosses his arms over his chest, glancing at Guri, who seems to be the blonde woman in question. "Let me guess, you don't like that, do you, kid?"

Before anyone else can say anything, the Toydarian jumps in again. "Then it is ehhhhhh ALL of their jewelryyyy, heh heh heh... a fair price, for the spice."

She's going to die - Mujiji is very sure of it. She should have asked Netep for a puff of that blue stuff before disappearing into her tiny coffin... At Kasia's remark, there is a distinct 'TUHMP' from the box, coupled with some muffled swearing: it's a good thing the lid was on. However, after the violent outburst, the sounds from within grow fainter, and fainter... And then go silent. Either that drug really worked, or she's been euthanized. There isn't even an appropriately enthused reaction to Usha snorting spice off of (and slapping) Moo's uncomfortably warm box, which should be enough indication that she is out like a light in there. There is no sound or movement from within the box as they rattle their way into the alley.

She's probably dead.

Of course the price has altered. Netep lightly drums both sets of fingers atop the sled's control bar for a few seconds with a glance to the other bejewelled ladies, then shrugs a slender shoulder under heavy jacket and starts to tug off the el cheapo 'bling' ornamenting her fingers...ears...and sets to work on unclasping/unwinding bangles of varying material from under her sleeves. Centimeters of leather, gold, bronzium at a time the tiny numerial tattoo on her left wrist is bared. Only to disappear again when the sleeve shakes back down. Her eyes narrow upon that Khil in particular. Surely not the same flappy-mouthed weasel two bunks down from hers in prison camp, no? No...

"Might buy yourself a stale lunch," she says to the hovering sleazebug and tosses her shinies in his general direction for a game of catch. The stud in her chin remains, however.

A grin grows as Kasia turns her head to look over at Guri again. "If we don't have fun, why are we even here?" The pink spice powered Zeltron gets a look, and a low laugh. "This is going to go about as well as everything else goes. I can feel it." She too is apparently ready, strolling along with the rest of the group as they move to the aforementioned alley in which this exchange is supposed to take place. "I'm curious," dark eyes move over the squad of armed cabal of drug dealers, settling on the Toydarian that appears to be the leader. "How much was the spice supposed to cost, before the prices clearly went up?" She's got on a couple of rings, though only one of them is removed. It's plain, metal, the other one with a green stone in it remains on her finger. She does remove some earrings, however, and a bracelet. None of the jewelry is offered to anyone yet. "This better be some choice spice to be worth all of this trouble."

With provocative step, each foot nearly winding past the other in her vixenish glide, Guri stops just slightly askew the man that smells like mothballs, acetone, and impending doom. Clasping her wrists behind her back, she tilts like a reed on the wind and leers with all the menace her artifical eyes can manage despite the inviting frame that they are set in.

"Of course not, Hoppy," Guri growls, hiding the venom dripping from her pleasurable voice behind an incandescant smile. "What's a few credits between friends." The assassin only has a single piece of jewellery - a golden hued necklace that is form-fit to her lithe neck. It's hiding beneath her Kuat garment's collar requiring that she take a moment to tug along the zipper that holds the fabric tight about her throat. Once freed, she tosses the necklace casually towards the flying imp, allowing it to clatter in the grit before zipping herself back up again. Hopp continues to command Guri's attention.

"Wait wait wait ...," Usha holds a magenta hand up at the floating Toydarian, stepping forward to have a say. The professional in her is rather insulted by this sloppy change in deal, and not one single piece of her precious accessories are taken off. And she does have a good many. "I agree with my gorgeous, classy friend here. I wanna /see/ the goods before we fork our stuff over. I think a little sample is in order." The demand is bold. Perhaps a little too bold. Someone's been partaking in powdered courage. And the wide-pupiled hunger in her eyes indicate that she's craving more.

Saturi doesn't have the time or the courage to protest the silenced furball. She /at most/ barely knows these people. The Pantoran appears to be engaged in thought as she steps into the 'end of the next alley'. An internal monologue about the sanity of the elderly scientist races on in her head. The woman keeps herself as far away from the 'punks' as possible, shying a few feet back from everyone else in the party. Her hands linger nervously close to her generic holster, fingers sweeping along the hilt of her blaster pistol.

When the topic of jewelry comes up, she doesn't budge. Her generic outfit appears cheap as well as brand new. It's hard pressed by the factory and too clean to have been worn much, so it should scream near-future dumpster trash. A quick glance should reveal that she isn't wearing any accessories but the woman doesn't make an effort to speak up, choosing to let the spice dealers figure out that she's bare.

Her eyes flick to Usha as she steps forward, slightly shocked by the bold move. She lets out a nervous breath of air as the Zeltron makes a protest.

"They got a point there, 'Nock-brain," Hopp growls back at the Toydarian in tones just as sonorous (not at all). "Let's see the goods before you go changing the terms, I could give a wamprat's ass about their jewelry but it's- they got this 'slippery slope' thing and we're not going down it, alright."

"Give us *all* the uhhhh jewelry orrr we'll take-a more than that," the flying clodhopper replies stubbornly, unimpressed by Usha's show of force, gesturing over his shoulder to the others who crowd more closely around a gravsled with box of their own, weapons bristling. He does pause to plop to the street, landing on stubby feet and gathering up the bits of jewelry that have been thrown across so far, taking his eyes off the party to do so.

The Hoppites' gravsled and its precious cargo remains unexchanged, for now, leaving Mujiji to contend with its confines alone for a while longer. Hopp is glaring fiercely at the gangsters from under his wiry brows, jaw working on the soggy end of his cig. Maybe he's thinking of a plan, maybe he's forgotten who he is.

Inside the box, strange things are happening.

Mujiji's heart and breath rate have been slowed to near imperceptible levels, a temporary and useful effect... Of a medication meant for sentients of a larger weight class. Thankfully, there is only one side effect for the kushiban: epistaxis. She is rousing, slowly, in there - enough to be conscious, alert, and aware as she tries to keep from gagging on her own nosebleed. She keeps quiet, even as she clasps her paws against the torrent of blood pouring out of her cute, pink, little nose. Were she strong with the Force, the whole party would feel the unmistakable feeling that is often associated with being aggressively given the finger.

Muri's jaw is by contrast /not/ working at the moment. She's played into the game, distracted the gang's chief negotiator, and she's leaving it up to the dead/undead Kushiban in the box and rest of HER gang to take the next steps. She's just the sled driver! Now that her hands are no longer busy stripping off some of her 'style', she plucks the cig from behind her ear where it's busy singing a curl and takes a long, casual drag. "Just a peek? S'my friend's birthday," a thumb at feisty Usha.

"It's only fair, right?" Kasia suggests on the heels of Usha's demand, offering the apparent leader of the gang a toothy grin. "You want to be paid, that's fair, we want to get something out of it too, other than robbed for our things." She rattles the fist full of jewelry that she still hasn't surrendered, continuing with that not-forking-it-over trend. "So just show us the spice, you get what you're asking for, and then we can all stroll off to our proverbial corners of the gutter where we belong, no fuss, no muss." There's definitely gonna be fuss and muss, but you know, it sounds good. "And it's her birthday," she thumbs in Usha's direction. "It's tradition." Is it?

Patience waning with organic posturing, Guri wobbles idly as a charmed asp might, leaning left and then pivoting right in an effort to stave off the violent urges that curl her hands. The gloves that wrap her delicate looking fingers whine with the strain.

"If this isn't solved in a few minutes, I am going to adjust the scenario a bit," Guri intones sweetly, mostly for Hopp's pleasure but loud enough to be picked up by those of her own 'gang' for good measure. Drawing in a deep, useless breath, she allows the air to hiss out of her nose like an annoyed Kath hound. That stale air is quite invigorating as well.

It is said that you catch more flies with honey. And thus, the coked up Zeltron switches gears, following the lead of Kasia and Muri to shift to a more saccharine gear. "Oh you sweet, sweet dears. It /is/ indeed my birthday, boys," her magenta hand rests on her purple flushed cheeks with false modesty. "Now no one likes a party pooper, and you look like a fun group. So what do you say?" She pulls her spice pouch out, swinging it like a little bell as she offers a dimply smile. "Show you mine if you show me yours?"

Saturi almost snickers at Kasia's addition...asking to not be robbed of their possessions. That's funny coming from a group of people intent on stealing some refined spice. She appears on edge, eyes flicking to the box...wondering if they're going to actually get to the point where the drug dealers will look inside of the mystery package. The woman takes a step forward to close the gap between her and her cohorts, feeling only a hair more comfortable than when they first started the exchange.

Does anyone feel the waves of hostility emanating from the box? It's hard to say. Between Muri and Kasia, though, the repeated mentioning of a birthday, and the partial jewelry offering already completed, the Toydarian has been softened. A three-fingered hand waves the others forward. "Ehhhh jussst a peek then, take a quick loooook," he relents while the rest of the gangsters push the box of spice over. "But I don't like this one," he adds with a grumble and an elephantine frown for Guri. "She should be taught lesson."

Apparently the lesson is an academic point, as the lid is popped open for the Hopparty to view its contents. Brilliant tangerine sparkles off the powerdery surface of the cargo inside.

"That's the real deal," Hopp confirms from the periphery. "I guess it's only fair to show you what we got too, there, isn't it? Just open it right on up there, pop it riiiight on open," the old man grates, taking a discreet step backwards.

Their chief adversary in the negotiation game reaches forward. "Let's see if you brought enough credits or if we need more from yourrr 'associates'," he says, and tosses the lid wide open.

Pop goes the kushiban! Like the murderous, jack-in-the-box of your nightmares; as soon as the lid is cracked, Mujiji, clutching a knife and covered in her own blood, comes screaming out of it. Claws and teeth out in full force, she latches onto the Toydarian's face. "You should learn to think out/side/ th'box!" She cackles, stabbing wildly with her tiny sport's knife.

SHES ALIVE! Netep flinches back from the eruption of spiteful fuzz and ducks behind the box and sled. No sense in getting in the way! Just wait for a chance to push another sled.

Kasia takes her jewelry clenching fist and slips it into the bag she carries, letting go of the precious bling in favor of the bulky blaster that's tucked inside. She waits both for confirmation that the spice is the right stuff, and then until the box opens and the fluffy little psycho springs out and gets the stabbing. "Yeah, this is going exactly as expected." The blaster is whipped out of her bag once the stabby murder attempt is started, taking a second to aim and then squeeze off a shot right at the Toydarian who is in charge. Was in charge. The bolt takes care of him, and with that shot fired she shuffles back a couple of steps just in case one of those grenades goes off.

As the Toydarian is shot, none of Mujiji's grenades go off, but one of them goes on. It's beeping and blinking and that's probably not good.

Guri echoes the long-snouted sleezeball's frown with an impish smile of her own so radiant and inviting that one could forgive themselves for forgetting that they're in a dank alleyway dealing in Coruscanti parasites. Fortunately, she does not need to hold the disingenuous grin for long as the tiny, sentient house pet screeches its fury laced in the crimson personification of its drug-addled rage. Can I keep it?

"Kriffing woman, I wanted to crush his face!" Guri rages as Kasia takes down her target. Balled fists snap at the air and then draw down to the ground as the assassin's arms stiffen. But the necklace! Darting forward, her priorities set properly, Guri rushes with alacrity to scoop up her jewellery.

The shimmer of the orange spice reflects in Usha's eyes, which glaze over a long while. She looks mesmerized, completely seduced by the substance. Usha can already feel its effects in her imagination. "Mama just wants a little taste ...," she says, mostly to herself as her hand reaches for the box to dust her finger with some.

The trance is broken when the bloody Kushiban pop from her spot. Usha EEPS in surprise, forgetting that this was the plan the whole time. "Uh uh...," her blaster is hastily pulled out and clenching her eyes shut as she shoots for for Snivvian with the repeater.

Saturi doesn't react well to the sudden change of pace. She's the farthest thing to a soldier and the drug dealers before her are the farthest thing from the fauna she's had to kill in the past. The woman draws out her blaster and puts her left hand forward, randomly firing a shot down the end of the alley. Missing everything important. She backpeddles quickly trying to get herself farther away from the enemies because shooting smaller targets is easier, right?

Everything quickly goes straight to hell.

Mujiji flies from the box in a torrent of blood, the Toydarian is shot down with no remorse, and after the opening volley from the Hoppites, the gangsters fight back. The Snivvian's snout snivvels with rage as he turns his repeater on Mujiji, spraying a veritable storm of plasma at the Kushiban. The Aqualish takes a shot at the coked-out Zeltron, missing widely, while the melee experts close the gap with their targets. Vibrodaggers hiss around Kasia but never come too close, a force pike whooshes over Saturi's head, and the Khil scores a lucky hit on Guri, leering at her as the blade's tiny nick cuts unnaturally deep thanks to its ultrasonic edge.

"Get the spice and run!" Hopp yells. "We don't have to kill them to win!" He hasn't even pulled his gun out yet, but now he does, tugging it out of his pants and brandishing it about with a wild look in his eye.

With all of his flailing, Mujiji is unable to get a good slice in on the toydarian - it hardly matters, though. "Wacchit!" She squeaks out as the explosion of blaster fire forces her to flee, bounding at the next target - she throws herself from the Toydarian with all the grace of a caffeinated womprat, bounds off the alley wall, and directs her momentum to allow her to latch onto the assaulting Snivvian. She's just lucky to have made it out of the initial charge without a scratch on her! She could have sworn she felt her fur singe a little.

That's when she notices the blinking light.

"Uhhh -!" Mujiji yanks the activated adhesive grenade from her belt and, without a second thought, attempts to stick it to the his back, leg... Whatever, she's in a hurry. "UH OH!" Moo shouts in warning as she scrambles away from the dealer and towards whatever cover she can find. "Uh oh!" She repeats, scrabbling across dingy alley pavement towards the spice box and a Toydarian body to use as a blast shield.

"Sorry!" Kasia protests the objection from Guri, shooting a look at her. "You can still smash his face! It'll just be less impactful now." Another couple of retreating steps are taken as the beeping begins, not sure of exactly where the thing is, but not wanting to be close to it when it goes off. If it goes off. The pair of vibro daggers fly by, prompting a "Hey!" of protest, as though it's shocking that they might be trying to attack her. All she did was shoot the guy who talked like the boss. She squeezes the trigger of her oversized blaster again, this time at the guy who lobbed the daggers at her, the shot landing once again. Not quite as effectively, but it'll do.

Guri skids to a halt in a flurry of tossed gravel and a plume of dirt. Her necklace lingers there, no worse for wear at attempting to learn how to fly, but certainly grittier than she would like. Leaning over, the assassin delicately plucks the jewellery from the ground and dusts it off before settling it back about her neck.

Then Guri's slashed across the leg with a vibroblade. For a moment she's placid, her baby-blues settled on the gash that wells crimson. Reaching down, her gloved fingers come back red. It takes a fraction of a nanosecond for her programming to register the faux pain, measure the wound, and begin to formulate a plan to deal with it: fists.

With a roar through gritted teeth, Guri takes on the visage of avenging angel with her flaxen locks mimicking the part of a golden halo. With metal on metal, chrome knuckles spirited out and on to her delicate fingers, she pivots her weight and cracks her fists in to the tentacle-faced alien's leg. Her follow up is an upward thrust in to the man's stomach, no doubt launching seafood back up whatever passes for an esophagus.

Hopefully the rodent's grenade doesn't hurt too bad!

Usha suddenly hears the ring of blaster fire emerge all around her, and she falls into a drug-enhanced panic. "Aaaahhh!" she screams, lowering herself for cover. She takes a peak to see that Selkath is open and clenching her eyes closed once more, before popping two shots out. Who the kriff knows WHERE they go. Still, the spice is at hand! And she pushes the gravsled out, in a rush to get outta there. Only she trips, banging her face against the push-bar. "GAAAHHHHHHH," she groans, clenching at her eye and yet she still continues to push the gravsled out of alleyway.

Saturi continues to back up as the fight continues. It's a painfully stressful retreat and it likely would have happened regardless of what Hopp said. "Good!" She replies to the old man, happy to hear that it's acceptable to run...just ignore the grab the spice part...clearly she isn't going to go out of her way to run towards the spice. That's for someone else with a bit less to live for. She panic fires at the Selkath twice, throwing heated shot recklessly down the dimly lit alley.

"Get the /SPICE!/" Hopp yells to the others, eyes wide with horror until they track Usha running across to grab the gravsled holding their objective and pushing it (with her face? that's not how you do it, Usha) back the way they came. As soon as she gets the cargo clear of the worst fighting, he comes stilting in behind her to put his bony frame to work pushing as well. However, the old coot is no more talented in the technique and steers the gravsled immediately into a chunk of rubble. The jolt causes his entire body to spasm backwards, both hands grabbing at the small of his back. "Oh shit. That was my back, Pinkie. I- I threw out my back, I- I- I'll never walk again, Pinkie," he gasps to her in a raspy voice, stumbling around on a course roughly parallel to hers, leaving her to push alone again. "I need you to go to the drug store when we get out of here, Pinkie, and get me a carton of smokes and a bottle of muscle relaxers, alright, I- do an old man one last solid before my time comes."

With the spice escaping, the thugs intensify their attacks despite taking a beating from the thie- liberators, desperate to stop them before the heist/totally legal exchange is complete.

Thankfully, it's only an adhesive grenade. Unfortunately, the effect is much less dramatic than Mujiji was hoping for: the Snivvian is fused to the ground in an explosion of adhesive foam, less than it should be. It was likely damaged by the shot that activated it, but the guy is... Well, he isn't going anywhere anytime soon, so. "Wow, I'm glad it wasn't th'CryoBan." The kushiban decides from behind the dead toydarian. "But, damn, tha' woulda been much more fun t'watch."

With her adhesive grenade spent, and her knife retrieved from where it fell near the toydarian, Mujiji traces a paw over her remaining stock... They aren't fighting droids, so the ion grenade is out of the question, the frag and cryoban would both pose too great a risk to her and the spice... And the rest of the team, ugh... That really just leaves her blaster, but they don't need to kill them all. In fact, Usha and Hopp are escaping with the spice now! "Oh!" Mujiji tucks and /runs/, following after the drugs and the one who promised to pay her for them.

Hopp is yelling about the spice, but Kasia makes absolutely zero effort to actually retrieve the item that they're here for, she leaves that to Usha and her face, instead ducking back as more vibro daggers fly by. They miss, but honestly, daggers flying at you close enough that you can see they're there and know they're being thrown at you is too close, close enough to be alarming. She purses her lips and raises the blaster again, but this time she misses the dagger wielder, probably burning a blaster hole into a wall. Which was already probably covered in blaster burn marks, so really it's probably just a blaster burn on a blaster burn, and no one will even notice or care. "You're moving pretty good for a man with his back thrown out. Last time I threw out my back I couldn't make it from the bedroom to the couch," she informs Hopp, possibly sounding a little impressed, if that can be heard over the sound of his old bones rattling.

Guri couldn't care about the spice, the credits, the mixture of acrid air, nor the fact that she has a significantly more lethal weapon in her posession. There's a primal rage behind each crack of her fists against the alien's organic skeleton that satisfies a far deeper need. Fueled by this mania, the cut to her face merely makes her more incensed and her blows rain down with a snarl.

The final coupe de grace has the assassin lunging forward and bowling over the bipedal squid with the weight of her synthsteel sinews. With a heavy thud, she mounts the being but any moment of elation for the submissive pose is quickly replaced with the gushing of his brain from his skull as Guri flattens his entire head in to a flat pancake against the dirt.

Clutching her eye which is already beginning to swell, Usha gives the gravsled a good push as she continues running. "Look you old coot, we all know you got something STRONGER than muscle relaxers in that lab of yours. You better live long enough to show it to me or Force help me, I will take all this Polstine spice for myself and snort it off your headstone!" the Zeltron growls. Looks like someone is grumpy and crashing from their high.

The sound of a skull getting crushed, makes Usha turn around to see Guri's final product. "Kriffing hell ... that's unnatural..." She's highly suspicious but too busy to do anything about it and so instead keeps pushing.

Being shot with a repeater isn't the worst thing that can happen, but the burn mark and blood will definetly ruin your generic throw away clothing. Saturi recoils as she is hit in the torso with a grazing shot. It's not pleasant and forces her to hunch over for a moment. After the hormones kick in and the fight or flight sensation runs its course, the woman is able to sum up the willpower to break into a sprint away from the alley. She holds her blaster pistol out in front of her and puts her back to the enemy, making it rather hard to shoot and hit anything productive.

Stumbling along in melodramatic agony, Hopp casts himself upon the hovercart, letting his legs hang off the side and kicking occasionally to make it go faster. "Come on, Pinkie, get me out of here, I'm too old for this kark," he grumbles, not really bothering to look to see if any of the others have followed them out. Maybe they followed, maybe they didn't, they'll get paid eventually. And they've earned the right to partake in the Perfect High! If it ever comes true.

Rising to her feet, fists covered in ichor, Guri is all fury and gritted teeth. "Hopp!" She calls out, voice booming despite its melodic cast. "You and I are going to have words once I'm done here!"