Star Wars: Scars

Part 3 - 12

Creed woke up in the middle of the night, shifting to sit on the edge of the couch. He leaned forward a bit, rubbing his eyes to clear the sleep from them. It was about the fourth time that night, but he knew it wouldn't stop. The endless nightmares, the demon screaming in his head. It never went away, and it never would. All he could do was hope for a few hours of decent rest. 

He closed his eyes, unconsciously rocking himself when a knock at the door startled him back up. He lifted his head and got up, taking a few deep breaths to keep himself from looking as weary as he felt. His first thought went to Skylar, though, as she slept upstairs. He looked to the stairwell, but didn't see or hear her. She must not have heard anything. Plus, it was 0200 in the morning, who in the universe would be up and at the door?

Creed didn't know, but he had a bad feeling in his gut concerning it. He tromped over to his things first and shoved a pistol in the back of his waistband, just in case. Skylar had made it clear that she preferred him not to spill other people's blood anywhere in her house, but he wasn't going to let anything happen to her, even if it meant scrubbing out the carpets on his own.

He moved to the door just as a second harder knock sounded. Creed unlocked the door and opened it a bit, positioning himself so no one could get inside without going through him.

"Open up," a hoarse voice demanded.

Creed steeled his face, looking down at the two men waiting on the steps of the apartment. "Why? What do you want?" he snapped coldly.

One of them glanced at him in surprise, looking at his buddy. It was clear neither of them had expected to see Creed. Creed just stared at them sourly.

"We want to come inside and get a look at the cargo logs. We have an appointment," the skinnier one tried to lie.

Not amused or convinced, Creed stepped outside, closing the door behind himself. "I don't think so," he said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. These two had to be scumbags of some sort. 

The taller one stepped forward, narrowing his eyes. As he did, Creed got a quick, but decent look at the emblem on his jacket and he internally snarled. These two were smugglers, and not the decent sort. They were just here to skim whatever they could off an honest woman's shipment, and he wasn't letting that happen.

"Look here, Mr. I don't know how you got in this house, but we know the owner and we have an appointment. So either step aside or--"

"Or what?" Creed challenged, shifting his weight to one foot, but tensing in preparation to move.

"Or I'll make you step aside," the man threatened, snarling.

Creed couldn't help the dark smile that touched his lips as he snorted in amusement. "Funny you think you could do that," he whispered.

That clearly set the other man off and he roared, barreling up the steps and right into Creed. It took Creed less than half a second to meet the man head on, ducking to throw the man over his shoulder and send him crashing against the door. Creed then hauled him up and tossed him back down to the street. The skinny one yelped and started up as well, grabbing out a knife as he too lunged for Creed. 

He was disarmed in minutes and landed beside his buddy as Creed turned to face them both. "That's your warning, both of you. Now get out of here, and don't come back, unless you want your blood to stain this street," he snapped.

The skinny one crawled back in horror, grabbing at his taller friend and half dragging the dazed smuggler to his feet as they limped off. 

Creed rubbed the back of his neck and let out a sigh as he turned to head back into the house. He stepped inside and paused when he saw a the small thin figure of Skylar standing inside the living room, arms crossed. She didn't look angry at him, just a little annoyed.