The dilapidated doors to the run down saloon opened with a groan as they were too tattered to even creak open. Three Fillamoan scavengers arrogantly sauntered in. Their bandanas were pulled tight over their scaly faces, and combined with the Thesian combat goggles that were strapped tightly over their yellow eyes, they were completely invulnerable to the sandstorms outside. Well, their faces were at least. The Fillamoan at the front pulled his goggles up to his greasy forehead and glanced around the ancient terran structure they stood in. The dim lighting and decrepit tables told the scavenger all he needed to know; this place had less business than a Gomorphian brothel. Other than one customer laying in the corner, a stetson over their face, and the petrified Locorian barkeep, the scavengers were the only ones in there. Grinning to each other, they approached the filthy bar.
"Three Arats, and hop to it, bunny" the Fillamoan announced, dragging out the final insult against the Locorian behind the bar, who reacted with the response of a military private.
"Yessir" came out of the barkeeps mouth as he spun around, his ears brushing against some bottles above him and almost knocking them on to his head. The long, curved top ears are how the race of Locorian's got their crude nickname, first coined (as most derogatory terms are) by the humans of earth.
As the barkeep rushed around, trying to create the drinks for the impudent customers, one of the other scavengers walked over to the till on the countertop. He popped it open without so much as a second glance at the barkeep, who was too busy focussing on their drinks and making sure he didn't spill any with his quivering hands. There was a pitiful amount of credits inside, but money is money and he pocketed them quickly.
"I think you should put those credits back"
A sudden voice from the corner of the room startled the scavenger; but not enough for his scales to go bright purple (It often happens when a Fillamoan is startled). The stranger in the corner of the room, whom he had thought to be asleep, had taken the stetson off their face and the brown hat now sat gently on top of her auburn hair. She was a terran, a human, wearing some kind of ragged collection of different pieces of armour, but that worked together seamlessly. Other than the stetson on her head, she wore a belt, with what looked like a lasgun hanging from it. The fillamoan puffed his chest out to make himself look more important than the lowly scavenger he was.
"Who are you?" he questioned, in a slightly higher tone than he probably would have liked.
"Does it matter? Those aren't yours" the mystery woman replied, with a slight smile appearing on her muddy face.
This dialogue was being watched carefully by the two other scavengers - the Locorian had decided to hide under the bar after he had finished making the drinks, so only the tops of his ears could be seen. The scavenger closer to the door started to move slowly to his friends side, his hand over the phase pistol on his belt. The Fillamoan at the bar continued to sit there and sip his arat.
"Listen up missy, I'd suggest you get out of here, because there's three of us and only one of you" the Fillamoan stated
"I think I'm fine just here, frog face"
With that, all of the scales covering his body lit up in a bright yellow colour (he was self-conscious) and he angrily glared at her, as his hand reached for the pistol on his belt. Suddenly, there was a bright splatter of lime green goo over the floor behind him. The cold liquid seemed to be fountaining out of his neck, where his head used to be, a bit of his spine sticking out the top. Both the other scavengers went bright purple and the one at the bar dropped his drink, letting it smash on the floor. The dark green liquid of the arat mixed with the headless scavenger's ichor and a symphony of the two shades covered the floor at his feet. This woman held her smoking lasgun in her hand, slowly rotating a dial on the gun.
"You little sh-".
The leader didn't finish his sentence. In fact, it was highly unlikely he would ever be saying anything again. A gaping hole travelled straight through his skull, from his teeth to the nape of his bright purple neck. The other scavenger also collapsed on the floor as the lady had fired the laser at the correct trajectory and time so that the some of the beam reflected off of the initial Fillamoan's pointed teeth and buried itself into the back of the other one's head. The three bodies, one yellow and two purple lay motionless amongst the green mixture that curled around their bodies like a Hoxan snake around a baby Hoxan native in its crib.
The barkeep's ears slowly rose above the counter, and his face followed soon after. A look of horror plastered shone from his face as he stared around at the carnage before him.
"Do you know how much this is going to cost for cleanup? I barely get enough business to keep this place running! You're paying for this, for all of this!" he exclaimed as the Locorian gestured around him.
"I've certainly had worse 'thanks' before" she sighed as she stooped down, covering her shins in the lime goo on the floor, to pick up the currency that had been taken from the counter. The barkeep snatched it from her and instructed her to pay him the same amount she had just given him, out of her own credits. He snatched those from her as well. Greedily, he began to count up all the finances he had just claimed, turning away and ignoring the woman who had just saved his business from bankruptcy. Suddenly, an inter-planetary radio transmitter from one of the corpses bags began to crackle with life and a whiny voice came through. It was the kind of voice that was so querulous that people would just cover their ears to avoid having a migraine.
"Come in scavenger 2-4-1, return to base for collection"
The lady in armour picked up the receiver and pulled a sector-pointer out from under a pocket in her armour. Connecting a cable from the device to the radio, she began to triangulate the location of where the signal was coming from. The device flashed up in yellow text saying 'Comperia' which was another planet in the galaxy they were in at the moment. Pocketing both the transmitter and the sector-pointer, she strolled towards the door in a manner much like how the now-dead scavengers first walked in.
"Hey! Wait" the barkeep called after her. She stopped and turned around, looking the furry man up and down. With a human face, rabbit ears and only three fingers and a thumb, the Locorians were not the most attractive or intimidating species the terrans had come across upon their voyages into uncharted space.
"What?" she asked back, in an impatient way.
"You did help me back there" he glanced down sheepishly "and I don't even know your name"
"Mimosa" she said over her padded shoulder as she stepped outside into the sandstorm, without wearing any kind of face protection.
