Problems like you

[Marek]

The sound of the heavy blaster crashing against his skull was very unpleasant, as was the tearing sensation, the burn, and throb that soon followed its impact. He had been held up in his own home for days now and every time he got smacked around for one of his witty remarks, the same question popped into his head.

Where the hell is my butler?

Not that the crafty little guy would have been able to do much against the mob of men that had arranged themselves about his abode. Still, his presence would have been welcome. Then, he wouldn't have to suffer alone. To their amusement, they being the men hired by some enemy mind he couldn't quite place on account of the chip they had taken out of his cranium, he had been strung up in front of the mirror in the foyer of his apartment. He had to watch each blow fall. But, at the same time, he got to watch their expressions change with every snide remark he could think up.

"Hey, man. You walked into that one." He replied after shaking his head to clear it. Fresh crimson stains spread across his white carpet and he could only watch the essence get absorbed deeper. His hands clenched about the thick cording keep his arms painfully straight and pinned to the ceiling. He would have slept were he allowed the luxury. But really, these guys were as cruel as their employer. What's his face - ...

"Who'd you say you worked for?" He asked, twisting his neck about so he could rub his bloodied ear against his bicep.

"We didn't say. But, he said he didn't mind you knowing since he was held up on Onderon and all. Delinore." Came the reply of the man who kept delivering Marek's beating.

His jaw clenched and he threw his head back, observing the ceiling with a renewed, dangerous glint in his eyes. That dog. "Oh yeah? Had I known that I wouldn't have called you retarded lapdog who couldn't find his rump with his own two hands." He attempted to amend. The man seemed unaffected, to which Marek then added. "I would have called you all that and then added that you have no di-" He stopped, noting that the blaster was again headed his way. This time, toward his ribs.

The muscles of his arms worked and Marek's feet left the floor, managing to obtain the results he wanted. His heels flattened against the ceiling, his entire body bent awkwardly. And then, after the tear in his synthetic flesh and the mechanic make-up beneath had been discovered by his captors, he tore through the roof and slammed the debris down upon his gun toting buddy.

The others drew up to respond, but the heavy blaster had already been recovered by the white haired, wild eyed man. It was trained efficiently, for they agreed to cooperate at once. Cybrus and Eir were returned to the holsters at his ribs and then, he stumbled from his apartment, all the while cursing Laurent. Onderon. He would need some bandaids and booze first. And who else would pop in his head but his handsome friend Yukio.

The knock on his friend's door was resounding, urgent. Gore trailed down the apartment building's hallway and Marek looked as though he had just escaped some war on a savage planet. He had this feeling the tattoo artist wouldn't be happy to see the very source of his grief.

[Yukio Ogata]

Yukio had just been dropped off by a guy he'd been seeing for about a week and a half. He'd had time to take a shower and and admire the new tattoo he had given himself earlier that week in the mirror--a gothic cross on his forearm.

Yukio glanced up from reading on his couch to his door where he heard a rather rushed knock, sounding quite urgent. He furrowed his brow, glancing at his wall chrono. Who would be seeing him this late at night? Nobody he could think of right off the bat. Standing, he straightened his grey exercise pants, and pulled on a grey hoodie so he didn't go to the door shirtless.

"Yeah, just a minute, Bo!" he yelled, knocking back hair and jogging to the door. Yuki unlocked the door, and pulled it open, one hand on his hip ready to tell whoever it was he didn't want what they were selling and to go away. But what he saw was not an annoying latenight salesman. Yukio's jaw dropped at the sight in front of him.

It was Marek. Except...it wasn't. Yukio's eyes traveled the length of the man'd body, all but totally covered from head to toe in what he could only conclude to be Marek's own blood. Yuki's eyes followed the trail of blood down the hallway--the reprecussions that would cause he would have to deal with later. For a moment he stood there in utter shock. He was sure annoyance, and probably anger would follow soon. But now, he was only feeling shock and fear.

Without saying anything, he stepped aside to allow him in and closed the door behind the big man. Yuki had to gather his wits, but finally pulled of his hoodie so he didn't get blood on it, and walked around the man. He held up a hand as he moved into the bathroom.

"I don't care to know what you've been doing, just sit your stupidass down in one of the kitchen chairs, on the tile, I don't want to clean blood out of the carpet," he instructed, grabbing a towel out of the top of his shelf and wetting it down. He pinned his hair back so he could see what the hell he was doing. Turning back in to where Marek had gone he moved back towards the man, waving the cloth at him.

"Keep this on your head...I'll get some pain killers..." Yukio said, swallowing and cringing a little at the extent of the man's injuries.

[Marek]

When Yukio opened the door, he looked as though he was ready to bite Marek's battered head right off his shoulders. Of course, in his opinion, he always looked like that. At least while he was around. He didn't quite understand what his problem was. It had only been a misunderstanding and the Coruscant Forces had laid off of him after a while. He watched as Yukio poked his head out and gazed down the hallway, no doubt ready to break a vocal chord when he took in the mess he made.

God, Marek! Why did you have to die on my carpet! You're a mess and I have to clean you up.

He got no love these days. Really. When the shorter man stepped aside, Marek stumbled in and about fell on his face when it switched from tile to carpet. He wasn't so keen on picking up his feet. Too tired and lazy. He needed alcohol and a cigarette. Distantly, he could hear his buddy talking to him and he could only nod and stumble about until the yelling dulled. Only then did he notice he had reached the kitchen and too late did he realize that again, the material beneath his feet had changed again. He spun through several complete circles before he collapsed into a chair, which also tottered across the tile.

Trying to grab the cloth Yukio was waving about was like trying to catch a firefly on spice. Everytime he thought he had it, the kid switched its position. Finally, he all but tore it from his hands and shoved it roughly against his bleeding skull. Not really the brightest idea, but he'd never hint at that with a wince.

"Heeey... Yukio. Painkillers. Forget those and bring me a drink! And it better be at least ninety percent perfection." He grumbled, waving his unoccupied hand about aimlessly.

[Yukio Ogata]

Yukio rolled his eyes and glanced over his shoulder at the man as he opened a cabinet door and got down a glass. He turned on the sink and got water in it.

"Sorry, bud, don't keep the stuff around here..." he said, turning off the water and setting the glass on the counter. He crouched over and opened a drawer. Yukio dug through his medications before grabbing a bottle of the strongest stuff he had. He glanced over the bottle and tapped three out into his hand. He tossed the bottle back into the drawer and stood, grabbing the glass of water and carrying them back over to Marek.

Setting them down on the table, he nodded to them.

"Take those," he instructed, reaching up to take Marek's hand down away from the gash in his forehead. Hissing air through his teeth, he took the cloth away from the man--apparently he didn't know the meaning of "gentle"--and he knocked Marek's hand away. "Let me."

Reaching up with his other hand to move blood matted hair out of the way, Yukio gently began to at least make a dent in the mess of blood all over the man's face. It was just like with a tattoo around the face--the head bled more than anywhere else on the body, simply because of the brain. Which was why if they didn't stop the bleeding, Yukio would be stuck with Marek's big corpse laying across his carpet.

Yukio assessed the damage from his standing point before pressing the now almost totally bloodsoaked rag over the gash. He reached down and grabbed Marek's hand, pushing the man's palm against the cloth.

"Hold that there. I'm gonna get laser stitches out of the bathroom. Sit tight," he said, turning and walking back into the bathroom. He bent over to dig out said stitches. He glanced out the door at Marek, and smiled a little. "And if you promise to be a good boy and not wreck my apartment or drag me into another gunfight, I'll go next door and get you some booze."

[Marek]

"What is it with you and lasers, Yukio? Every time we get together you're always carving me up with them. Geeez." He complained, for the lack of anything better to do, while he shoved the tablets into his mouth with his free hand and then drank down the liquid in the glass Yukio had brought him. He hated the stick of it, the slithering sensation as the medication was released throughout his body. He could recognize it all too well, memories ushered forth from past experience that now, seemed far much worse.

"This is nothing." He said aloud, though his friend was off in the bathroom fetching his torture devices merrily. He probably wouldn't even be gentle, but Marek'd be numb by the time he got back. Stimulants and bacta were already taking effect, not to mention he was light headed from the loss of blood and blows.

He began to ponder and in the middle of his thought process, he realized the last part of Yukio's rant had something to do with getting him booze.

"Friggin SWEET! Yukio...! Hurry up in there! Your neighbors might fall asleep!"

[Yukio Ogata]

Yukio waved a hand, even though Marek couldn't see him. He located the stitches and stood up, looking over them as he moved back into where Marek was sitting. He stood in front of the bigger man for a moment, scanning the object in his hand.

Finally he looked up and grinned.

"They never sleep. They're too high for sleep most of the time anyway..." he paused to lean over and pull Marek's hand away from the huge gash. He couldn't helo but cringe in sympathy pains. He laid the blood rag down on the table and moved a little closer to get a better bearing on what he was looking at and what he needed to do. After a moment, he titled his head to see Marek better and began charging the laser stitches.

"This is gonna sting, but if you move the stitches won't set right and I'll have to do them over again, okay? So be good, and hold still..." he said, laying a hand on his friend's forehead to move hair away. He lined the laser up with the top of the gash and glanced down at the man. "Pain," he warned as the laser flicked on, and began to seal the injury. It looked much worse than it felt--oh sure, the laser stitches were not something Yuki would want to endure ever day, but they were better than any alternative.

It didn't take long to totally seal the wound, the bleeding slowly decreasing until there was none, and only a dark brown line remained on Marek's forehead. Yukio let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and leaned back away from his friend, dropping Marek's hair and smiling. He stepped back.

"Okay?" he asked. But he didn't wait for an answer. "The black will go away after awhile, and you'll be set right again. Now. You're welcome to shower, wash your face, or whatever you have to to get that blood off of you while I'm gone. You can either stay or go, though I recommend a little rest, you lost a lot of blood..." Yukio paused, putting the little laser device on the table and going to the sink, washing his hands and drying them quickly. He grabbed the hoodie he had discarded earlier, grabbed his key card and went to the door, slipping on shoes.

"I'll be back in a few minutes...I'll get the strongest stuff they have..." he turned and went out the door, closing it behind him, and whispering to himself. "Make sure to knock you out..."

[Marek]

He'd have to make this all up to Yukio somehow. He contemplated it all while strolling back to the refresher, highly anticipating the sonic shower that would remove the blood and grime from his form. He was certain he looked like dren, which was totally unacceptable when it was Marek. He didn't pause to look in the mirror, which was usually the first part of his ritual. He didn't want to know. He felt quite enough.

Stripping off his shirt that was torn to hell, the under shirt that had been beneath that, his tattered blacks pants, and his boots, he fingered his bruised ribs and then moved toward the shower. Stepping into the stall, he glanced about and then halted, slightly shocked. Running water. Naturally, he had never stopped to wonder how old this part of Coruscant was. But this was proof. In the long run, it'd no doubt be cheaper to have sonic showers installed, but the sum of money for the overall purchase would put a severe dent in their credit accounts on short. They had never worked up the gall.

He hadn't been in one of these... since. It had been back on...

Takeshi! You're getting water all over the frelling floor! Would you get a towel already?

Marek's hand went to his head, gripping at the pulsing pain that was just out of reach. Memories. Hurt. The water lurched on, spraying across the taut muscle and drenching away his blood. The hand that had clutched at the stirring in his skull drifted away and flattened against the white stall panel before him. Time passed with little activity on his part. The water ran clear and that clean scent filled the fresher. Yukio would be back soon and he'd be able to rest in his natural drunken state. That, was something to look forward to.

[Yukio Ogata]

Yukio had to have a nice screaming match with on of the three triplets that lived next door and practically handed out booze to anyone who would listen to them talk about their escapades. Yukio often passed their abode and got caught up in some sort of conversation with them, or really, a bunch of words flying around that grasped for conversation but never really got there.

Almost a half hour had gone by, by the time he got back to his apartment and went inside. He slid out of his shoes, hearing the water was still running. He didn't look up, but deposited the bag of three bottles of booze on the floor next to his door, pulled off his hoodie and finally glanced up to the bathroom door, which was only pushed to.

For a moment he stood in the middle of his living room, staring at the bathroom door as if he were waiting for it to do a trick. Or maybe he was waiting for something else...anything else. Ah, hell, he was thinking things...

Turning back to his kitchen, he grabbed the bloody towel off the table, and tossed it into the sink, grabbing a clean one and wetting it down. He got down on his knees and began to clean up the blood that had dripped onto his tile and the little that had gotten into the carpet. He glanced up.

"Marek!" he yelled in the general direction of the bathroom door. "You're drinks are in here whenever you get out! I hope they work out for you!"

[Marek]

Better be good poison. I have one hell of a headache.

Marek stepped out of the shower stall and glanced about, leaning back in momentarily to shut off the water. The refresher had very items that were to be expected laying about but he had to peer around to locate a towel. It was the only one present and with it, he managed to dry off his hair and tie it partially around his hips. He wasn't really looking forward to walking around naked or getting back into his nasty, discarded garb. Maybe Yuki had some kind of blanket or something.

"Yukio, you know I don't - " He stopped, poised midstep when his eyes drifted to the three bottles of Namana-infused liquors set by the door. All train of thought promptly redirected, he stalked them and snatched one of their number up. He had the top off before one could blink and took a gratifying chug. Then, turning aimlessly, he wandered into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, without his mindful gaze settled upon it, the towel began to shift downward, revealing the tattoo and the deep set lines of muscular abdomen.

"Lifesaver, Yuki. Really, really... wow."

[Yukio Ogata]

Yuki looked up as the man came out and snatched one of the bottles, his momentary orgasmic bliss causing his attention to stray to other things besides his towel...which was slipping father and farther down. The tattoo Yukio had put on the man himself was now showing, as were the--in Yuki's opinion--beautiful indentations of Marek's hips.

Leaning up, then standing straight, he tossed the newly bloodied towel into the sink with the other and washed his hands, averting his gaze from the other man. He dried his hands and tucked hair behind his ear as he turned back to Marek.

"Good, I'm glad you approve. I assume you'll be good and smashed within, ohh--" he glanced at his wall chrono and shrugged, "--twenty minutes?" He paused, to raise his eyebrow at the sinking towel around the man's waist. Mentally coaxing it farther, and even more, mentally scolding himself for that thought, he nodded to his bedroom. "I'm gonna go get you something to put on. People see you running around here without clothes, and they might get ideas..."

Yuki took a wide circle around Marek to the door of his bedroom, pausing at the chest of drawers to dig around in them.

"I assume you'll want the bed...?" he called absentmindedly as he tried to locate the largest pair of pants he owned--he knew he had a pair that would fit the man. After a moment, he wandered out with the pants he had located and threw them at Marek.

"Please put those on before your towel falls totally off..." he said, flopping back over onto his couch and reclaiming his data pad novel he had been reading earlier. He didn't need to tell Marek to make himself at home, that was what Marek did best...