First gig

Well that was a disaster.
 
I found a ship and "crew" that will eventually, hopefully? get me back to the Can, if we can survive the needlessly violent odd jobs that el Capitan gets for us along the way. Today we were supposed to hook up with a mate in a dive bar on Warren and hand off some box. No clue what's in the box and I'm probably safer not knowing. Anyway, we found him sitting in a booth after receiving a pretty thorough blaster facial. Going by the scorch marks and ripple patterns in the subdermal tissue he greeted that blaster like it was an old lover. By the time we woke up to ourselves, the door was blocked by guards and some more idiots were at the bar.
 
Duke made a distraction and we scattered. I _might_ have instigated a mild scuffle to get the crowd dancing, and we all made it out the back door. Moron guards got stuck inside with everybody else, and then of course some stickhead junkies in the alley decided we were easy marks. Seriously, nothing went right tonight and I was 5 seconds from bailing on this whole fucked up situation.
 
But then this happened: This big meat popsicle on our crew with too many arms starts bashing the junkies around and one of them blasts him in the chest point-fucking-blank. Does he go pop? Nah. Nothing. He's bleeding less than my nose after the bar scuffle. The junkies pissed themselves when they saw that and ran off. You know how many guys in the army would sell their current mods for that kind of armor?
 
I need to get to know this crew better. It might take a while longer to get home, but whatever. You don't get this kind of medical training in a normal lab. I just hope it doesn't kill me first.