Alright, here's the next chapter… Please don't flame me for taking so long! I'm sorry! I had to lay brick-NEVER do that!- and I had a B-A-D cold!
Chapter 7
Physical consciousness was slow in coming. But when it did, Boba knew that it wouldn't be fun. It's so odd how someone can be completely mentally aware, but not have any control of their body whatsoever… He was jolted out of his thoughts by a dull pain in his stomach. That wasn't terribly surprising. Gradually, he began to become aware of his surroundings. Something was strapped around his chest. And it felt like a harness. Oh great. Out of the palace and into the rancor pit. Willing his eyes to open ('it feels like I have twenty pounds of Mandalorian iron on my head,' he thought with a groan), he was surprised, to say the least, to find that he still had his helmet on. Vaguely wondering why the lower half of his body was wet, he started to turn his head around, trying to get a look at his surroundings. Suddenly, he felt a hand grab his shoulder. It's probably that di'kut, Bossk. Reacting instantly, Boba spun around, or tried to, only to find that he was suspended in the air unable to do much more than swing his legs around uselessly.Momentarily confused, Boba tried to calm his racing mind (A very difficult thing when one is drugged up to one's eyes in pain killers). Trying to gather his thoughts, he reached down to engage his flamethrower, when the harness suddenly became taut, and jerked him upwards.
The medic nearly died out of astonishment when the bounty hunter tried to swing around and face him. By all rights, Fett should have been unconscious for at least another two hours. Adrenaline coursing, the medic reached over and pulled down a lever. Relief flooded his senses when he saw the hunter being lifted into the air, courtesy of a crane he had borrowed. When Fett was high enough, the medic, without thinking, reached out and grabbed the harness, simultaneously slamming his foot on the release button. Pulling backwards with all his might, he was semi-prepared when his patient came crashing down on him. Unfortunately, he wasn't as prepared when he opened eyes and saw that he was staring down the business end of the Hunter's blaster.
Boba looked at the quivering man cowering on the floor, a wave of embarrassment coloring his cheeks red. "P-please M-Mr. Fett! I didn't do anything! I only treated you!" Hmm. Now that he thought about it, he could feel a dull throb. At least it's bearable, unlike the last time I was conscious… "I have questions. And you are going to supply the answers." The poor man nodded vigorously in agreement. "Alright Mr. Fett, go ahe-""Who brought me here?" Boba interrupted sharply. He had a good idea, but it wouldn't hurt to ask. The man, presumably a medic, frowned in concentration. "Now that you ask, I really don't know. He didn't tell me his name, and I didn't think to ask." Seeing that this was not the reply that Boba wanted, he had hastily added that he had security cams on all the time, including when he, Fett, had been brought in. But the medic had said it more like this: "Oh, Mr. Fett! I believe, oh wait, yes! No. Uuuh. Wait. Here it is, the little Sithspawn! Hiding in the back of all the recordings! Good thing I'm a smart guy. Shop owners usually throw away old security recordings. But I don't! I pride myself in being the smartest--" Boba fought the (strong) urge to roll his eyes. "Just describe him," he growled, dangerously close to losing his temper. "Oh, yes, Sir!" The medic then proceeded to give Boba a full, very elaborate, description of Masdon. Boba grunted. Bizarre didn't begin to cover the situation. Either Masdon was incredibly stupid, and he somehow doubted that, or—well, he couldn't think of anything else that would possess some merchandise to turn in their wounded captor for medical treatment. This is the oddest hunt I've ever been on. The fact that Masdon might have a conscience didn't even cross his mind. Turning around, he was about to leave the room when the medic cleared his throat purposefully. "Sir. That will be Fifteen hundred credits. The boy that brought you in neglected to pay me. Oh, and I almost forgot. The er, unorthodox, way that I had to do bacta treatment, will cost you a bit extra, bringing the total up to two thousand credits." Boba slowly spun on his heel until he was facing the medic. He stared at him for a full minute, until the medic was good and squirmy, before briefly saying, "It was very wise of you to do the "Unorthodox" way instead of the conventional one. It would have been very—unpleasant—if you hadn't." The medic bowed his head, a look of professional satisfaction crossing his face. Once again, Boba turned around to leave, and once again, the elderly medic purposefully cleared his throat. When will this guy ever learn! Boba wondered with annoyance. "What is it?" Boba bit out. The medic, apparently not getting the hint, raised his eyebrows slightly and held out his hand. "Mr. Fett, you forgot to pay." Well where in the galaxy had the fear of Boba Fett gone? "You want to be paid." Boba stated rather than asked. The medic openly rolled his eyes and spoke as if he were talking to a young child. "Now, Fett. When someone helps you, they usually expect to be paid. Now, I need to be paid. It cost a lot of time and credits to fix that very special bacta bath for you. Okay?"Boba slowly clenched his fists. No one had ever talked so condescendingly to him, and it was infuriating. "What, did you say?" Boba said quietly, his voice as sharp and deadly as a vibro-blade. The medic drew himself up. "You heard me just fine, Mr. Fett." Oh. So now it was Mr. Fett again. Hmm… Boba stared at the medic for a minute. "You should be glad to have your head intact after what you just said." Boba leaned forward until he was centimeters away from the man's face. "It is extremely unwise to anger a bounty hunter, especially if it is Boba Fett." Turning around once more, he exited the building.