"NO! He's lying! I have nothing to do with any--" he bit his tongue when the blasts filled the air around him. The police here weren't the listening sort. [i]DAMMIT. DAMMIT. DAMMIT.[/i] Confused and panicked, he had tried to scramble away from the skirmish but found himself frozen when the man started throwing the police around like rag dolls. At first he thought this might be a jedi, but jedi didn't wear armor like that and they didn't fight like that. It was horrifying and fascinating in the most disgusting way imaginable. Things only got worse. By the time he was grabbed and pulled to his feet he was forcing down the urge to vomit. The sounds of shattering bone still fresh in his mind.

More police were showing up and he realized there would be no way to explain his way out of the situation. His life had been ruined in a matter of seconds. He would be hauled away in cuffs and locked up... again... Not in the same way, but still locked up. His fists clenched and his spine tingled. He would die first. He had to get away. Quickly he was snapped out of it.

"Hired? Hired for what!?" he sneered, "I'm not helping you and I don't owe you a damn thing!"

"You do know they have cameras in their helmets, right? You're a wanted man cause you're not smart and don't have a helmet. Plus, they'll send a jedi after you, whom will be able to track you down like a Kath hound after a baby because of your inability to hide force powers. Yes, it's quite obvious you have them."

 "Of course I don't have a helmet, asshole. They don't--" he stopped and took a deep breath. No point in arguing here. His shoulders stiffened and he kept his eyes locked on the man's visor... "Fine. Just get me out of here. What am I doing?"

"Fix my ship!" Marquis came down from his scrap pile and joined them, speaking directly to the Togruta. He took his hand and shook it. "Greetings, sir, a please. Please excuse my ignorant friend, he is insane. Our ship is...damaged, to say the least and the engines have stopped working again and the thrusters might not be able to get us to a repair station to adequately repair them. If it is no trouble, please follow me and I will show you what must be fixed."

"Oh sure, take all the fun out of it." Zen said as he crossed his arms and looked away. "If you wish to have fun, wait a few minutes. More police will no doubt show up." "YES!" He reached to the back of his belt and pulled up his saber, clicking the button. The black light extended from the saber quietly. He spun it in his hand a little and went off to try and find them first."

"We're gonna die..." he muttered quietly as the psycho ran off and hurried along with the droid, "Who the hell said I could fix it, eh?"

"Either you fix it or we wait six days while the automatic repair program tries to make sense of it, which it never does. During said time, you will most likely be detained by the police and subjected to brutal prison..."intimacy." As a bonus however, you might be able to get off planet with us."

"Alright! Alright! Stop! I get it..." Being reminded of being detained again was more than unpleasant. Then he made a mental note to stop asking questions seeing now that they would never be answered. "Tell me where the ship is. I need tools first unless you got 'em already, buddy."

"We have several tools, though you might have a few more specialized ones." He lead him deeper into the scrap yard and to a large scrap ship, one that most mechanics would start crying at when they saw it's condition. "Mind the dust, it was stuck on-" He stopped as they both looked up and saw a policeman fly over head, sailing out of the junk yard. "Well, now they've seen us. Fantastic. Zenithar will not require our help however, he has done this type of thing before. Shall we?"

"What. The..." upon seeing the "ship" he found he was suddenly unable to remember how to speak basic. A million thoughts raced through his head many of which had something to do with unfixable piles of shit, metal death traps, burning up in the atmosphere, getting arrested, getting shot, getting butchered by maniac not-jedi, etc... He was burning up and being forced into a corner. The Togruta shook in rage, let out a feral snarl and started yelling something in an alien language before throwing up his hands. The ground at his feet seemed to heave upward and a few spare parts in the dirt hovered momentarily before he turned on his heels and started racing for the shop. He didn't trust them to have what he needed on board that [i]thing.[/i] 

"Get...!" he couldn't find the words and just looked at the droid and jabbed a finger at the ship, "I'll be back!"

Ducking yet even more blaster fire from the fighting he ran the maze as fast as his body would allow until he reached the large building at the front of the yard. There kicked down the door of the shop so hard, the lock and hinges snapped immediately and a deep rectangular dent was left in the wall on the opposite side of the room. The Togruta rushed through the cavernous shop throwing things off shelves and out of boxes into a stiff, heavy duffle bag. Several tools flew from across the repair bay toward him at dangerous speeds where he caught them in mid-air and threw them in the bag with the rest. All the while hissing and grumbling in the strange tongue until he was done packing and let out a stifled, "FUCK."

Back at the ship the gentlemanly droid and a strange female voice spoke to each other and then to him but he didn't care to focus on them enough to listen. He stripped off his jacket, tied back his lekku, popped a long panel out of the floor and one out of the ceiling, and threw them aside with no care or grace.

"Engines and thrusters first. Turn them over," he snapped. He listened to the utterly pathetic noise of the ship trying to struggle to life then grabbed the bag of tools and slipped into the cavern in the floor. He twisted and maneuvered through the cramped belly of the beast like a snake until he found what he was looking for. There was a special place in hell for whoever had done the electric work in this thing. Not to mention the mother. Fucking. Dust. He coughed and spat while soldering a conduit back into place. He writhed back out of the pit and immediately pulled himself up into the top of the ship slithering through an even more tight space with just as much ease. There he kicked several vents loose that had locked up or were clogged. A temporary fix but it would have to do or the thrusters would never fire. For several minutes he ran around like crazy ignoring anything that was said to him until finally, upside-down, incredibly hot, uncomfortable and taking his life into his own hands by not doing this in a more open space he welded a massive split in the power converter of the right engine.

Snapping the visor of the welding mask up he yelled back up to the cockpit to start her up again. Quickly he backed up out of the floor nearly blackened by dust, grease, metal shavings and sweat. A deep rumble followed by the sound of ignition roared through the cab and the scrap yard. 

"She lives," he grinned with bared fangs and a wild look in his eye, "Let's go!"