Pushing their way out of the warzone the seedy dive bar/brothel had become; Highsinger, the two women with him and the Zygerrian spice-pusher he was still dragging by the head took a short walk towards the closest high-rise, with none bothering the unusual group due to the all the chaos masking their presence. One turbolift ride later, the quartet were overlooking the street and the establishment down below 20 stories up from the rooftop's edge.

"You're not gonna get away with this! The boss will have your head as a paperweight you kriffing clanker!"

[b][i]"Good. If he will come to avenge your death, that would make searching for him considerably easier."[/i][/b]

Suddenly, the Zygerrian’s comlink crackled to life, and a gruff voice echoed over the stale winds “Hask. Did you deliver it or what? Boss is getting pretty impatient. Apparently there was a whole street brawl that he has to deal with. It’s crazy out there.” The Zygerrian looked at the comlink in fear and opened his mouth to speak back to his associates. However, one look at Highsinger dissuaded him from doing any such thing. The droid however then took a step forward and hauled the spice-pusher past the hab-block's precipice, speaking softly enough to ensure that his voice can't be picked up by the comlink's mic but loud enough that the feline can hear him clearly.

[b][i]"Tell them that you're trapped in the cantina and you need them to bring serious backup."[/i][/b]

The droid loosens his grip ever so slightly, making it clear that he intends to see if the myth that felid species will always land on their feet when falling from great height is either fact or fiction if the pusher doesn't comply.

The Zygerrian tried to reach up to hold onto Highsinger's arm as he dangled helplessly. He glanced at the drop below, then back at a droid who would like nothing less than to kill him and find someone more pliable. He made his decision. “I-I’m in the cantina. It’s crazy down here. I’ve been able to hide, but I need backup.” He glanced once more at Highsinger. “Serious backup. And make it quick.” His plea was convincing enough, the actual fear he felt at the moment doing nothing but helping. “Figures a coward like you would need us to come save you. We’ll be on the way as quickly as possible. You’re lucky that shipment is valuable.” The comlink fell silent. “Please, let me go now. I’ve done all you’ve asked! It’s only fair!” Unable to do anything but whimper in terror, Highsinger pulls the Zygerrian back to solid ground; much to his relief.

[b][i]"Now we wait."[/i][/b]

The group didn't have to wait for too long as soon enough, a mid-sized commercial landspeeder zooms down the street towards the still-raging cantina brawl, the open-topped speeder loaded to bear with heavily armed thugs that most onlookers would mistake for paramilitaries or a legitimate security outfit given their military-grade equipment and light blast armor. The speeder turning a pair of drunkards brawling on the front of the establishment into fender ketchup and their utter lack of reaction to the grisly deed other than mild annoyance at the mess the driver made however dispels such notions that they were nothing more than a bunch of spiced-up halfwits in milspec gear and told to go play Stormtrooper in their neighborhood by the guy who handed them their shiny toys.

[b][i]"You've done your end, now I shall do in kind. Apprentice, Servant: Observe."[/i][/b]

"W-wha-?"

Taking only a milisecond to run the calculations and plot the necessary course as the thugs gathered their blasters and dismounted from their now-parked ride, Highsinger then launches the Zygerrian off the roof with an underarm toss. The Spice-pusher screamed all the way down... For all of 2 seconds before he crashes right on top of the speeder's frontmost half, pulverizing the windshield, the spine, ribs and internal organs of the thug riding shotgun and possibly the driver's neck.

[b][i]"Guess not all of them land on their feet."[/i][/b]

[@TheWatchDog] [@Wildling]