The door slid open as the two boys neared the entrance. The Flying Rancor was one of the only bars in the town and thus was extremely busy. The bar was busier than it had been all week and, with the exception of a few nights, the past month. Fyston frowned and glanced over at Xreth, who smiled and reached up to pat him on the shoulder as they retreated to the right, causing the door to close.

"Don't worry, Fy. Drunks LOVE to give tips! You can get the credits easy, you know that."

"Yeah, but dad doesn't like me helping out on busy nights."

"Come ON! They can't be that bad."

"They're not...not usually. There have been more fights recently, though."

"It's your birthday, he'll appreciate the help. Besides, my birthday's coming up and you have to get me something."

"I'll buy you some rancor horns and you can wear them as your own?"

"Shut up and get your festering purge-hole into the bar so we can make some credits.'

"If something goes wrong this is on your head, though, X."

"Whatever, let's go."

The two stepped back in front of the door, which promptly opened again. They stepped into the crowded bar to cheers from everyone who could see them. Xreth, mind full of the possibility of credits, smiled. Fy, on the other hand, wanted the bar to close for the night so that they could celebrate. Granted, he did enjoy the bar and it's usually friendly frequent visitors, he wanted one night to himself. He always joked that his father would end up giving himself a heart attack due to the stress and work of running the bar.

"Boys! What're you doing here? It's only 5!"

"Xreth wanted to come and I thought it'd be better than sitting around at home."

"Please, Uncle Huluk? We promise to help out."

"You know what? I'll let you stay, but Xreth you'll be stocking. Fy, you'll help at the bar."

"You mean no gathering stuff from tables?"

"You want tips, don't you? How about I don't tell your mother that you're in here. I'll pay you after Fy's party."

Xreth shrugged and turned to leave. Fyston glanced around and saw a few new faces at the bar, notably a number of angry looking humans at the far end of the bar. Huluk caught him looking at them and dropped his voice to a mere whisper.

"They're New Republic soldiers. From what I could tell they were shipped back here after a close defeat with one of the Imperial factions. They seem upset, so stay at the other end of the bar."

Fyston nodded and walked over to the other end of the bar. Although he couldn't mix drinks, he could take orders and pour drinks. The Zabrak walked along the bar, checking to make sure things were still in place, and glanced up at the face of a Zabrak that Fyston didn't know.

"So, what can I get you, sir?"

"Eh. I needa forget sssshtuff. Gimme some, uhhh, Corellian brandy."

Fyston glanced out of the corner of his eye, hoping to nonverbally ask his father as to whether or not serving the man would be wise. Seeing Huluk serving a number of Rodians, Fyston shrugged and looked back at the man, who had taken to glancing at the variety of bottles behind Fyston. He had already set his credits on the counter and Fyston looked under the bar for the Corellian section.

"I'll be right back, sir, I've gotta bring up another case. And chew out Xreth, while I'm at it."

"Yeh, yeh, take yer time."

Fyston set down his flimsi notepad and turned down the short hallway that led to the storage room and, under it, another, larger, storage room. He opened the door and glanced around, hoping to spot Xreth. Failing that, he began scanning a number of boxes before laying eyes on a case of Corellian brandy. He called out, hoping to get some answer out of Xreth.

"Xreth, what the kriff are you doing?!"

"I didn't know your dad had a holoprojector and some holodisks, I'm catching up on movies that I couldn't see in the holotheater."

"You lazy bum! I want half of your cut if you're not doing your job."

"Just don't tell Uncle Huluk, then."

"Duh!"

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Fyston picked up the crate and made his way back into the hallway. He heard a number of voices rising and hurried, worried that there was a sudden rush of visitors who were less than happy about the understaffed bar. He turned the corner to see one of the New Republic soldiers pushing himself out of his seat and reaching across the seat to grab Huluk's shirt by the collar. Fyston could hear what was being said, though only with quite a bit of effort.

"I said get me another drink!"

"You're past your limit. Let go of my shirt and leave, please."

Fyston watched as the soldier took a nearby bottle and slammed it down on the counter, causing glass to fly in all directions. He raised it to the taller, muscular Zabrak, who calmly glanced at the man.

"Look down, my friend."

The soldier's comrades glanced down, noting with surprise the DL-44 blaster that the bar owner had pulled from his waistband.

"Derik, let's just go. He's got a kriffing blaster!"

"Pulling a blaster on a New Republic officer?"

"You're threatening me and my establishment."

Before Fyston could react, he watched as the New Republic soldier brought the neck of the broken bottle up to Huluk's abdomen. Thanks to the thick abdomen, no real damage was done, but the shock of it and the uppercut by the soldier caused Huluk to fumble the blaster. It fell onto the counter with a metallic clatter. Without missing a beat, the soldier snatched it up with his free hand. Huluk had enough time to turn and lay eyes upon Fyston before two red bolts of energy ripped through his body and slammed into the floor.

Fyston stood there, shocked. He took in the soldiers and glanced down at his father, mouth open. Half of his mind told him to run, to hide. The other half, however, told him to launch himself at his attackers and to end them however he could. Before he could decide, however, the soldier laid eyes on him. Apparent to the fact that he was a witness, he aimed the pistol with a shaky arm and fired twice. The first shot slammed into a nearby bottle, causing a shard to slam into the right side of Fyston's face. The second slammed into the case that Fyston had been carrying. Torn between being stunned and shocked, the boy turned away and tore into the back room.

"Fy, what happened? I thought I he- Oh, blast. What happened to your face? Fy... FY!"

His cousin sounded distant, as if he was at the other end of a long tunnel. Fyston ignored him, his brain telling him to do nothing but run. He climbed down a ladder, one that led to the bottom storage room. It opened at the side to allow deliveries and in case of emergencies. Fyston rushed out of the door, legs propelling him forward at full speed. There was still light outside and the smell of meat in the air told him that the market and nearby spaceport was still open.

Fyston couldn't think, though he felt tears sting as they slid into the gash made by the flying glass. He wiped away the tears with his thumb and immediately felt his wrist become extremely warm. He pulled back his hand and looked at the blood that covered it. It would have to wait, he decided, and he made his way to the market without stopping. He knew that the best thing to do was get as far away from his town as possible. Many times, merchants would stop and trade in a few towns before leaving the planet and Fyston knew that he could make a better life for himself in the capital.

A number of freighters and ships were there, though many of them were loading and unloading goods with the help of droids. Fyston made his way sneakily through a number of side streets, his destination a dingy looking YT-2000. He hurriedly ran to a number of cargo boxes that were decent cover from the owner, who was bartering with a weaponsmith that Fyston knew well. A labor droid moved past him on two treads and Fyston snuck up the cargo ramp as quickly as he could. Once inside the freighter, it took him only a few seconds to find a door. He opened it and noticed that it was a small storage closet full of spare parts. He closed the door and sat down on the myriad of parts. Still stunned and in shock, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to rest.

OOC:

WC=1,501.
Huluk, Fy's dad, is dead. Fy's on the run and this leads up to his time as a merchant's assistant. Haven't done any CD threads before, so comments and constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.