Too’s right hand was shaking, it had been shaking for nearly two hours. The tremors were so bad that Too had to smoke their last cigarette with their left hand, a shoddily made mechanical hand on a mechanical limb made from scavved parts. The prosthetic limb needed to be oiled, it creaked and made a metallic scraping sound whenever it was moved. Too was smoking this cigarette down to the filter, it was her last and when she could afford to buy more was unclear. She pulled the tattered oil-stained sheet over herself and pressed into the corner between the dumpster and the building. The alleyway kept out the worst of the wind but it was a cold night to be sleeping outdoors. Despite the chill beads of sweat were forming on the Rodian woman’s brow, and her hand was still shaking like a leaf.
It had been near thirty six hours since her last hit of spice and she was well into withdrawals, something she’d dealt with before. In the past she would have ashed a deathstick or pumped herself with stims until the next fix, but none of that was an option now. Sure those things existed on Viscara but it wasn’t as readily available as it was back on the lower levels of Taris. Back on Taris Too was a notable figure in the underworld, both as a swoop bike mechanic and leader of a small five man crew who freelanced their muscle to different gangs. “If I was back on Taris” Too thought “I could probably get some Smash or kik-dust on credit in five minutes…” but of course that’s exactly the sort of thing that got her into this situation. Those loans added up and soon she was taking loans to pay off loans and that’s a cycle that doesn’t hold long. That was why she was on this far-flung remote colony, hiding out from collectors where no one would be looking.
Her tremors were keeping her from falling asleep, as was the cold and the thought of how depressing it would be to have run to Viscara on the outer rim to save her life from collectors only to die from withdrawals there. It was one of the longest nights of her life.
