Ask Heart of Darkness

[Cyrus Solus]

In the distance, a hazy heat glare distorted the ramshackle buildings. Cyrus looked down at his fob, which had stopped working a long time ago, and stuck it back in a pouch with a sigh. Nothing about this world appealed to him. From the near-unpronounceable name, to the angry sun beaming down rays of hate, to the swarms of insects somehow finding their way beneath his armor and clothing. The people here, while simpleminded at best, regarded him with immense suspicion, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to be chased out of one rundown shanty town after another with rocks and other improvised weapons. They’d even scratched part of his helmet paint with an incredibly well-placed slug shot, much to his chagrin.

Cyrus had been walking for the better part of two hours along a dirt road, the only companion being the constant zzzzzzzt of insects plinking harmlessly against his visor. A bead of sweat traveled down his forehead to the tip of his nose and fell to the ground below, but he’d grown used to the sensation by now. This entire place was incredibly low-tech, even for a backwater in the Outer Rim, almost to the point where it felt like his presence alone accelerated their technological progress by about a hundred years.

He was being disingenuous, though. The people here toiled endlessly under a harsh, tyrannical regime, and most of them found themselves in a poor position against their wishes. He was patient with them, and thus far had only shot in the direction of one particularly angry grandmother with a wooden spoon. That woman, the Three bless her soul, had chased him for the better part of a mile before he finally got fed up and fired a round off to scare her away. Even then, the only thing that did it was the fact that she had to have been damn near a hundred years old and running around outside in this heat was absolutely going to kill her before he did.

Cyrus contemplated why he didn’t just fly his ship to the favela, then remembered that there was nowhere close to land. It went from extreme urban sprawl to jungle in a matter of miles, and it took him a hell of a time to find a clearing large enough in which he could set down his ship. He doubted anyone here could break into a locked starship, so he was fine leaving it alone for now. After a while of walking, he finally came upon the favela, and all he had left to do was scour it for his target.

He continued along the main “road” until he came across a particularly rundown portion of the favela. A few armed guards stood on either side of the road in front of a fence. Their weapons were simple, but still dangerous enough to ward people off. One of the men stepped forward, an eyepatch covering one of his eyes. His dirty skin was sun-weathered and rugged, and a patchy beard covered what looked like several facial scars along his cheeks.

”This zone is quarantined,” he said sternly, raising his rifle, ”Only doctors, soldiers, and infected are allowed within.”

Cyrus stared at him for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek, absolutely bewildered. Without thinking, he blurted out, "What the hell kind of infection has you block off an entire section of the city?" which caught the soldiers flatfooted somewhat. They looked at each other, unsure of how to answer the question. How had he not heard about the infection? Everyone in the city knew about it.

 

[Riley Elin]

Almost directly behind the one-eyed guard, a loud argument broke out. The Mando would be able to spot a woman mouthing off to several men. She wore a lab coat that was covered in smudges of dirt and grime, and her hair was a mess. However, she was passionate about her argument and unwilling to back down.

“-Keeping them here for no reason!”

“Look, lady, we saw a few of those creepy shits just a few miles north of here-”

“That doesn’t mean these people are sick!” She almost shrieked, “And at least three of them have had completely unnecessary limb amputations. One of them was just from a speeder accident and the moron on duty thought it was a bite. There is no rhyme or reason to any of this, no protocol, no proper sanitation…”

The one eyed guard sighed and grumbled to himself, walking away from the Mandalorian along with the other guards. They all walked towards the woman to circle around her and try to break up the argument. Riley wasn’t afraid to make a scene, but it was clear the men were getting fed up with it.

“Look, if you don’t shut your mouth, we’re gonna get you kicked outta here. Just shut up and do your job and give these people their little injections and move on.”

Riley was quiet then, staring with wide eyes and a slack jaw. How could these people be so savage?!

 

[Cyrus Solus]

Cyrus looked past the one-eyed guard at the commotion. Some doctor who looked exactly how this place smelled was all up in a tizzy, shrieking and shouting about the unfairness of the whole quarantine situation. The guards were having none of it, and it quickly became a tense standoff between several armed guards and one very, very passionate, short doctor. It was such a ruckus that even the guards barring his path turned around to join their peers, and soon it became less of a standoff and more of a stand down, judging by the sudden silence of the doctor.

The Mandalorian noted that there was nothing stopping him from entering where he needed to go, and it wasn’t like these people really had anything that could contend with his blasters, judging by the jury-rigged solid projectile small arms they carried. With a little shrug, Cyrus proceeded ahead through the checkpoint and waltzed right past the circle. One of the guards stopped looking at the doctor and cast a glance towards the armored stranger, a look of utter confusion plastered on his face.

”Hey!” he shouted, though the Mandalorian didn’t turn around and instead continued his leisurely stroll. The guard broke away from the group, and now several others were watching him. ”You deaf or dumb? Soldiers and doctors only. And what the hell are you wearing?” He leveled his rifle at Cyrus, who slowly turned around.

”I’m a doctor,” he said dryly before turning around again and starting to walk away. The guard, incredulity smeared across his face, looked at the others, including the doctor, before turning back to him and saying, ”No you’re not! She’s a doctor. You don’t even look like a doctor.” Cyrus sighed, turned back to face him, and approached him leisurely.

”Then I’m a soldier. Look, let her and I through, stop bothering us, and go watch your checkpoint before they,” he said, gesturing to the crowd of scraggly-looking citizens who gathered at the gate now, curious about the commotion, ”Get in and spread your disease around.” The guards turned around, panicked slightly, and rushed to stop anyone from entering or leaving their hasty quarantine checkpoint. This left Cyrus, the doctor, and One-Eye, who glowered at the two.

”You’ve a lot of nerve,” he said, panning his… gaze? – Whatever you’d call a one-eyed glare – between them and scowling, ”Get whatever you need to do over with and get the hell out. I don’t care if you think this is unfair, this isn’t your call. Give them the medicine and get lost, doc. And you, helmet boy-“ ”Witchscar,” he corrected, ”- What? I don’t care. You’re lucky I don’t have you shot for trespassing. The hell do you need to be here for?”

Cyrus looked at the doctor and inclined his helmet towards her, ”I’m with her. We’re here to help the people you’re ignoring.” The Mandalorian was very clearly lying, but it was far, far easier than drawing his guns and shooting these innocents. He just needed into the quarantine zone to find his target, judging by the faint blip of his tracking fob. One-Eye raised a brow and looked at the doctor, clearly in disbelief.

”Is he really with you?”

 

[Riley Elin]

Riley was even more offended when the men abruptly broke away to go after some buckethead. She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring. Had she truly gone through so many years of prestigious schooling just to be treated like this? However, the exchange she overheard was more than a little curious. She turned around to regard the man, wondering why he was pretending to be a doctor and….announcing that he was with her? Her eyebrows rose high, but she quickly put on a more passive face.

When One Eye turned to her after the exchange, she blinked stupidly for just a moment before clearing her throat, “Uh yes, he’s with me. I usually have protection in case I run into live specimen-”

“Yeah yeah whatever,” He cut off the beginning of a very long and thorough explanation. He cast one last searing glare at the Mandalorian before walking off to deal with the citizens that began to accumulate at the gate.

This left Riley and the soldier alone. She took in sight of him and pondered for a moment before she started walking back to the quarantine zone. Clearly he had some business of his here, but she couldn’t help but be curious, “Witchscar?” She had to ask, trying to bite back from grinning at the ridiculous name, “I have to admit...you seem a little out of place in this shithole,” Riley wiped the sweat off her forehead, looking up at the tents that had injured villagers. Flies buzzed around old and rotting wounds, and the stench was awful. It was easy to tell why many believed these were people infected by Frenzy.

 

[Cyrus Solus]

Cyrus glared in kind back at One-Eye from beneath his helmet until he walked away to join his cohort. Frankly, he was pretty amazed his improvisation worked; he absolutely expected the doctor to sell him out or act just as confused as she looked, but, against all odds, she actually vouched for him. The guards no longer paid them any mind, instead having to worry about the growing crowd. He turned and began to walk away, pulling out the tracking fob and giving it a firm shake and several angry taps. After a while, it flickered on, and soon began beeping in random intervals. It was frustrating, but it was a start.

The doctor walked alongside him and he considered blowing her off, but he decided that she might at least be helpful as a sort of get-around-town card. Cyrus kept his eye on the fob and the surroundings, making sure not to step in whatever fetid puddles lined the streets. She said his nickname and he hemmed, giving her a listless shrug. ”Witchscar,” he confirmed, ”Don’t like people knowing my real name, and you haven’t told me yours yet, either.”

A few of the injured and sickly looked up at the duo, extending their atrophied, scab-covered hands towards them, begging for aid. Flies and other insects crawled along their skin, enjoying the banquet of diseased blood and rotting flesh available to them. In other corners of the dismal quarantine zone, the sounds of retching victims echoed off the buildings, and the stench of it all was almost enough to make him gag. Cyrus pointed the fob at the wretches they passed by, and, when it didn’t increase in frequency, kept walking. He had no idea where to even begin looking, but he knew the target was somewhere here. They had to be.

”Sounds like I’m not the only one out of place, judging by the screaming earlier,” he remarked as they walked down the street. The rundown buildings around them looked like they could barely fit four people, though he knew multiple families had to share the space. Combine that with a lack of water, medical care, hell, even a reliable source of food, and you had a veritable petri dish for diseases. ”What’s the big deal here?” he asked, pausing for a moment at an intersection, pointing the fob in each direction. The beeping didn’t speed up, meaning that he could go in any direction, which made the search even more frustrating. He put it away and looked at the doctor, resting a hand on his belt.

 

[Riley Elin]

Riley said nothing as he mentioned not wanting people to know his name. She assumed the same applied for the fact that he wore a helmet. She had heard about Mandalorians and their obsession with keeping their helmets on at all times. She couldn’t imagine never taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air.

What surprised her was his quip about her not sharing her name. Riley couldn’t help but smile, pointing to the nametag on her labcoat, “First name is Riley,” She also gave a shrug, “You didn’t seem the type to care about asking for names.”

Riley wasn’t keeping track of him checking the fob or trying to look around for something. Her focus was on the people she passed. Every now and then, she would stop to check on them and give them a shot. She had to pry their hands off her as they clawed at her and begged for help or ways to ease the pain.

She kept walking and was surprised to find ‘Witchscar’ still there and walking with her. When he asked about what was going on, she grimaced, “I suppose you haven’t heard - there has been a disease going around. It’s called Frenzy for layman’s terms. Basically it’s a horrific thing that makes people’s brains turn into mush. They act like animals and become violent and tear apart and….eat other people,” Riley cast him a glance, but she remembered she couldn’t see his expressions, “I know it sounds like something out of a Holo flick, but it’s very much real. There were a few incidents a few miles north of here and now anyone remotely sick is sent to this quarantine. The trouble is that people that weren’t sick from something before get sick after coming here. I’ve been trying to treat them and get them out.”

Riley stopped by another man that couldn’t move and she took a jug of water and lifted his head slightly to help him drink some of it. He was at ease after he got his fill, breathing easier and falling back into rest. Riley walked back towards the Mandalorian, quirking an eyebrow, “I suppose I shouldn’t even bother asking what you’re doing here…”

 

[Cyrus Solus]

”I’m usually not,” he said in response to her noting that he didn’t seem the type to care about names, ”But you helped me. It’s good enough.” They continued to walk, and with each person he checked, he noted that she took the time to try and alleviate their symptoms or otherwise check to see how they were doing. Strangely enough, he maintained his pace with her and remained by her side.

Cyrus frowned beneath his helmet as she described the epidemic of ‘Frenzy’, and simply muttered, “Sounds like a joke.” A disease that turned brains to mush and made those infected hostile and aggressive to the point of eating each other? It did sound like something out of a cheesy Holo flick. What’s next, vampires abducting the townspeople at night? Invisible bloodsuckers killing off the cattle and spooking the villagers? He shook his head and watched her help a man drink water. Seeing such compassion in the galaxy was a rarity, especially on low-tech worlds like this; it surprised him.

”I’m looking for someone,” he admitted without looking at her, not really one to be very secretive, ”Slaver posing as a doctor, or maybe as a refugee. Not sure; something’s got my tracker… on the fritz.” He turned in place, looking around the intersection. He wasn’t sure where to even start. In the distance, several soldiers hurriedly rushed down one of the side streets, shouting something in their native tongue and clutching their weapons. Cyrus hemmed, thinking nothing of it.

He turned his helmeted head to the doctor – Riley, she called herself – and stared at her impassively from beneath the anonymity of his helmet. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he finally spoke up. ”Why do you care about these people? Aren’t you going to get sick just from being around them?” he asked, his tone inquisitive but distant. He couldn’t understand why someone would willingly expose themselves to these diseased wretches, especially on some backwater.