**Finnegan's Tradehouse**

The Draconian soldier, face exposed when you look directly at him, through the transparent material that covered the front of his rather elegant, black helmet, broke into a snarl, and his rifle- just a 'regular' assault rifle- came up to bear on the one who spoke. "*Speak if you know, shut your trap if you don't!*" 

Before the man who spoke could say anything in response, a very large, very broad man, wearing an exoskeleton and with his own rifle in hand, shoved his way through the crowd and in front of the man the Draconian was pointing at. He had his own rifle up, and now it was aimed at the Draconian- the response was immediate. One could hear from the leader's guard, "Frag or control?" The golden-clad Draconian nodded, gestured at them, and said, "Frag."

The result was one of the purple-clad guards raising another rifle, and firing. Half a moment later, the bouncer's right shoulder seemed to explode, as the bullet penetrated two inches into his flesh, struck bone, and then detonated, sending fragments in all directions- most of them flying out and bloodying the faces of the closest, others shooting deeper into his arm, down it, or into the rest of his body. The man almost instantly passed out from the pain, dropping with his shredded shoulder, upper arm, and right collarbone shredded and bleeding quite badly. It was a wonder he wasn't dead.

Then the golden-armored Draconian could be seen moving forward, barking out orders in an unfamiliar language. Should one have their own translating device, they might note that he was ordering the medic to take care of him, and to use non-lethal force against any who posed a threat, or gave a threat. Before he had finished, as he was approaching the crowd, a group of identically-dressed men came out of the crowd, air shimmering around them slightly, all holding various ranged energy weapons. The golden-armored Draconian eyed the men who looked as though they wanted to fight, and only pointed at the two heavy tanks, and the three gunships that had now arrived. Their leader glared at the golden-armored Draconian, and signaled the rest of his men. He approached the Draconian and vice versa. When they were standing more or less face-to-face, the Draconian glared at him and motioned for him to move aside. When he did not, a knee rose and punched through the weak shield meant to keep someone from punching him. It impacted his groin; he keeled over from pain that very strongly suggested that he will probably never have kids again. A single swipe of the Draconian's unarmored hands threw him to the side, unconscious. 

Then he proceeded forward, the crowd making way. One bodyguard followed close behind; another stayed back and began ordering the troops outside into better positon and to search the area for supplies. The last picked up the alien that had spoken, and dragged him after Goldy. 

They were intent on finding the owner, and from him, answers for dragging their ship out of an honorable battle and into... this place. Goldy was already aggravated that he had to waste a perfectly good torture-type round just to make an example. Anytime someone stood in his way, they were quickly brought down by himself or his guard- depending on whether he felt like it or not. He had effectively invaded the tradehouse, and was currently uncaring of how many rules and social things like that he was breaking.