Two Idiots and a Deathwish

[Kuzuru]

“What do you mean you don’t tip?” Mallory asked.

Charles groaned and reached for the inner pocket of his trench coat. His thick and calloused fingers removed a long and fat cigar. With his free hand he flicked open his zippo lighter and ignited the tip of the stogie. It was a smooth and mellow hit with a hint of cherry flavoring. Mallory raised an eyebrow and asked his question once again. Charles exhaled a cloud of acrid smoke, which hung heavy over the remains of their lunch. “I don’t tip,” Charles answered, his voice was low and aggressive, like a diesel engine.

“Well yeah, but why?” his companion asked, throwing his hands out in disbelief.

Around them the rest of the diner pulsed with life. They were in the heart of Coruscant were even a smoky hole-in-wall diner was bustling with business. It was a melting pot of creatures, humans, and other alien beings. Gang-bangers mixed with suburbanites. Tourists who had delved deeper than they were prepared for sat guarded and uneasy. This cluttered chaos was where the two bounty hunters felt at home. Their server, who was a young human girl, sashayed past their table and dropped off their bill.

“Why do I need to tip her for doing her job?” Charles proposed.

“How else is she supposed to make a living?”

“Get a different job,” Charles answered, took another drag of his cigar, and added, “at any rate it ain’t my problem, it isn’t.”

Mallory rolled his eyes and grabbed their bill. He tapped his finger against that table as he performed some mental arithmetic to calculate how much they both needed to tip. After a few seconds he produced a few credits from his wallet and sat them, along with the bill, on the edge of the table. “Alright,” he said,”pony up five credits.”

“For what?”

“For a tip jackass,” Mal said and pointed a finger at his partner, “I’m not going to let you weasel out of this.”

Charles growled and released another cloud of cherry-flavored smoke. He shifted the cigar around in his mouth. “I said,” Charlie leaned closer to Mallory, “I don’t tip.” The two locked eyes for a full minute. This wasn’t the first time they had this conversation, and it more than likely wouldn’t be the last time. Mallory sighed. There was no arguing with the man He tossed a few more credits onto the table and stood up. “Whatever Charlie,” Mal said and nodded towards the door, “let’s get going, we’ve got a job to do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Charles said and took one last drag from his cigar. He flicked the ash off into a half-empty glass of water and then extinguished it by mashing the end against the table. Then, while Mal had his back turned, he pocketed the credits intended as a tip. 

Outside the duo squinted as they were bombarded with bright flashing advertisements. It was like stepping onto the set of the world’s most aggressive commercial. Coruscant’s fourth tier was less of a place to live and more like a massive marketplace. Street vendors and shady market booths littered the streets. Nothing was sacred here. Drugs, guns, and sex were sold openly on the streets of tier four. If one had the cash, and a loose set of morals, they could buy just about anything.

[Kuzuru]

Mallory kept a tight grip on his phone. Thieves were about as common as people, perhaps even a little more so in Coruscant. So his prosthetic hand kept an iron grip on his phone while he tapped out a message with his free one. Occasionally he’d glance up for a moment to make sure he wasn’t walking into any poles or anything. Charlie walked behind him, scanning the crowd as he often did. When you stand almost a foot taller than the average person you’re expected to be a sort of lookout. He puffed on his cigar and said, “you might as well be wearing a sign.”

Mallory either ignored him or plain didn’t hear him.

“I said,” Charlie said, “you might as well be wearing a sign.”

The shorter one sighed, finished his text, and pocketed his phone. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. Bright lights assaulted his eyes while the scent of sweat mixed with exotic foodstuffs crinkled his nose. Mallory glanced over his shoulder and bit the bait.

“What are you talking about?”

“When you got your phone in your face like that you might as well be wearing a sign that says ‘big effing target’.”

“That’s why I got you,” Mal responded, “‘sides I can’t just ignore Mindy now can I?”

“Yes,” Charles answered, “you can, look over there.”

The two stopped walking and Mallory turned his gaze to follow his companion’s finger. It lead him to wall plastered with various flyers and advertisements. Slivers of brick peaked out from beneath countless sheets of paper. Everything from prostitution to job offers to missing pets were laid bare for the world to see. It took him a moment to absorb everything but once he did he knew exactly what Charlie wanted him to notice. He shook his head and kept walking, or rather he tried to. Charlie grabbed his companion’s shoulder and held him in place.

“No, no, no,” Mallory said, bucking his shoulder and knocking away Charlie’s mitt, “no way in hell, we’re not here to go burn our money at a goddamned racetrack.”

“This ain’t just any ol’ race, it ain’t, this is the F-Zero Series,” he said, stepping closer to the worn flyer advertising that day’s race, “look at these odds, twenty to one on some up and comer, you can’t beat that.”

“That’s awful odds Charlie, twenty to one is horrible.”

“Yeah, but think of the payout.”

“No.”

Charlie reached into his coat and held up a thin plastic card between his forefingers. Mallory’s heart fluttered and he reached into his pocket. He removed his wallet and checked its contents and sighed. Charles smiled.

“Give it back,” Mallory demanded.

“Sure thing friend-O,” Charlie said, took a drag of his cigar, and added, “right after we go make ourselves a little bet.”

“No.”

“Wasn’t asking for your permission, I wasn’t, ‘sides looks like Ol’ Charlie is the one with the money, so Ol’ Charlie is the one that makes the decisions here.”

“You jackass, we ain’t here to throw our money away on fucking twenty to goddamned one odds,” Mallory said and grabbed at Charlie’s wrist, “we came here to get food and that’s what we’re going to do.”

Charles said nothing. Their eyes locked and then drifted down towards Mal’s grip. The larger man reached out and grabbed Mallory’s shirt collar and pulled him in close. An acrid cloud of smoke escaped from Charlie’s nostrils and puffed against Mallory’s face. 

“I don’t know about you, but I ain’t about to spend the rest of my miserable life running errands and getting groceries for some bloodthirsty psychopath, now I’m gonna go down to the racetrack and have me a little fun,” he said and pushed Mallory away, “you can join me if you want, but either way I’m going to spend some money for a chance to not be Kuzu’s little errand boy.”

Mallory rubbed his collarbone and sighed. He shook his hand and threw his hands up in the air. “Fine,” he said, “whatever, just don’t come complaining to me when we don’t have money for food.”

The racetrack was much like the rest of Tier 4, cramped, loud, and littered with ads. The two bounty hunters pushed their way through all manner of people, humans, orcs, trolls, robots, and all manner of obscure and exotic beings. After warning his companion to not spend all of their money Mallory set off to find them seats. Charlie made his way to the teller counter and placed his bet. One-thousand credits on Stargaze Smoker at twenty-to-one odds. The teller, a young trendy looking girl, raised her eyebrows, took his money, and handed back a ticket. Charlie smiled, thanked her, pocketed the ticket, and set out to find Mallory.

“How much did you put down?” Mallory asked, damn near shouting to be heard over the din of the crowd.
Charles sat down next to him and answered, “one-thousand credits on number eighteen.”

Mal’s eyes widened. He flipped through the pages of the day’s programming and found their race. “You put how much on number eighteen?” he asked, knowing what the answer was.

“One-thousand.”

“Fuck,” Mallory said, deflating in his seat, “you know those odds are worse than a coin flip, a lot worse?”

“Yeah, that’s what makes them exciting.”

[Kuzuru]

“And coming down the final stretch in what appears to be an upset for the ages, Stargaze Smoker is your champion for today folks, this young racer has taken the scene by storm and has just cemented herself as a force to be reckoned with!”

The announcer’s voice cut over the cacophony of the erupting crowd. Everything from cheers to screaming to disgruntled “boos” fused together to form a chaotic mess of noise. Charles clapped, shouted, and whooped while Mal sat frozen in his seat. Stargaze Smoker, a young girl in a bright yellow jumpsuit stepped up to the announcer’s stage to accept her prize. She smiled and waved to the crowd and held up her trophy.

A well-dressed man with a microphone walked up to her and asked into the microphone, “congratulations on your victory, anything you want to say to your fans?”

The black-haired racer smiled and leaned closer to the microphone, “yeah, I’d like to thank those of you that believed I could do it, and those of you that didn’t can bite me.”

She brought a finger up to her eye and pulled down her bottom eyelid while sticking her tongue out. The crowd erupted into an equal mix of cheering and disgruntled shouting. Charlie laughed and clapped along with the crowd. Mallory’s overloaded brain came back online and he stood up and shouted triumphantly. After celebrating for a few minutes the duo left the stands and made their way to the teller’s booth. Mal threw his arm around his companion’s shoulder and they both leaned on the teller’s counter. The larger of the two took a puff of his cigar and slid the winning ticket across the table. The girl who was running the counter twirled a lock of her green hair and raised an eyebrow.

“Congratulations,” she said, “lotta people lost a lotta money today, no one really expected Smoker to place, let alone win the whole thing.”

“What can I say,” Charles said and nudged Mallory, “I’ve got a sixth sense for these kind of things.”

“Dumb luck, nothing more and nothing less Charlie,” Mal responded.

“You say dumb luck I say jackpot.”

Mallory rolled his eyes.

The teller slid the ticket into a machine and tapped a few numbers into the touch screen. It took a few moments for verification, but soon enough the machine began to whir. It spit out a plastic bank card which the teller removed and handed over to Charlie. He turned it over in his hand, feeling the warmth of the freshly printed credit chip.

“20,000 credits, good as cash anywhere outside of Camelot,” the green-haired girl said, “you’ll have to take it to your bank to deposit it, we can’t deposit it for you, not sure why, some kinda tax evasion laws or something.”

Charlie exhaled a cloud of smoke and said, “that’s fine, we’re pretty much untouchable.”

Life was good. Charlie kept turning the card over and over between his fingers, his mind swimming with possibilities. They were standing just outside the entrance to the racetrack. Around them the crowd surged outward as the final race for the day came to a close. Mallory checked his phone, sent a message, and then pocketed it.

“So what now?” Mallory asked.

“Well, we’ll split it fifty-fifty, seeing as it was your seed money and I was the one that made the bet, fair’s fair right?”

“Right, but I mean, what about the Ashen Blades?”

“Fuck them,” Charlie said pinching the card between his thumb and forefinger and holding it up in front of Mallory, “this right here is our ticket out of that bullshit.”

“He’ll come and kill us y’know that right?”

“He can try, but if we invest our earnings just right he’ll have a hell of a time finding us.”

Mallory nodded and watched as a street merchant pulled a cart past them. He said, “you really should put that card in your pocket, this place is full of thieves.”

“Now who in their right mind would be dumb enough to-”

He was cut short as the business end of a baseball bat slammed into his back. Falling faster than a chopped tree Charlie collapsed forward onto his hands and knees. Mallory whirled around, his hand already wrapped around the butt of his sawed-off. Where he was expecting a gang of burly street thugs he instead found a teenager holding a wooden bat emblazoned with bright yellow letters that read “SLUGGER”. The bounty hunter froze for a moment as he fought back the urge to draw and fire. There wasn’t even time for him to make up his mind, two metal prongs pierced through his jacket and found their way into the small of his back. A split-second later his world erupted into static as 50,000 volts of electricity ravaged his body. A pink-haired girl, roughly the same age as the boy, stepped over Mallory’s twitching body. Charlie attempted to move but a swift boot to the ribs knocked the wind from him. A third assailant, this one a young boy in an oversized hoodie, scooped up the fallen card. As fast as it started it ended, the three assailants scampered off into the crowd as the two bounty hunters regained their senses.

Charlie growled and jumped to his feet, unholstering his hand cannon and leveling it at Pink-hair’s backside. Mallory clawed at his companion’s arm, lowering the weapon to the ground.

“What the fuck Mal?” Charles demanded.

“She’s a fucking kid,” he answered, “and you’ll wipe out half the crowd with that fuckin’ thing.”

“I don’t give a good God damned about what she is, she stole our money.”

Seeing his clear shot evaporate before his eyes the larger bounty hunter took chase. Mallory groaned and followed behind, his biomechanical components still rebooting from the sudden shock. Charlie was barely able to keep sight of the delinquents, the occasional flash of bright pink hair in an ocean of bodies kept him on their trail. He barreled through whatever was in his path be it human, fruit stand, or small animal. The trio turned down back alley after back alley, leading the bounty hunters through the labyrinth that was Tier 4. As Charlie rounded a corner he came face-to-face with the three thieves, they had led him to a dead-end. He growled and raised his hand cannon and held out his palm.

“You’ve made a very bad man very, very angry today,” he said, his voice a gravel-crusher in low-gear, “hand over the money and I’ll play nice.”

“Ch’yeah right,” the bat-wielder said, “we’ll hand it right up your ass fucko.”

“Wrong answer.”

“STINKY GAS!” shouted the youngest as he revealed a set of akimbo squirt guns.

Charles moved to lower his pistol, but was buffeted in the face by a noxious green gas. Instinctively he shut his eyes and tried not to breath. The caustic gas singed his nostrils and burned the insides of his lungs. He stumbled backwards, trying to escape the miasmatic cloud. Mallory rounded the corner just in time to see the kids peel back a large metal plate in the floor. A metal chute, probably one used to transport garbage once upon a time, was revealed and the youngest jumped in first. Dodging his thrashing partner Mal made a sprint for their quarry. The eldest threw his baseball bat down the chute and jumped in after it. Just as Pink-hair stepped over the gap Mallory’s hand grabbed her wrist. She yelped and tried to jump in, but Mallory pulled her back and threw her to the ground. He retrieved a pair of handcuffs from his belt and threw them around her wrists. She struggled and cussed and thrashed and spit and kicked and bit, but Mallory’s size advantage and training proved to be more than she could handle.

“Got one,” Mallory shouted to his stumbling companion.

[Kuzuru]

“Samintha Graves age fourteen, scoundrel, three-hundred and fifty units of omnilium for capture, one-hundred if dead, seventy-some counts of armed robbery, thirty-two counts of evading arrest, seven counts of arson, suspect in at least two homicides, often accompanied by her older brother Parker Graves age seventeen and younger brother Maxx Graves age eleven, each of whom have bounties on their heads, sounds like thievery runs in the family Charles,” Mallory said as he read the Empire’s bounty board with his phone in one hand and the links of Samintha’s manacles in the other.

Charlie growled and pawed at his stinging eyeballs. After a few more minutes of painful fumbling he wiped away the tears and blinked a few times and turned to face the pink-haired menace. He raised his pistol off to the side and made a great show of cocking the oversized hammer. It was the kind of pistol that looked like the offspring of a Desert Eagle and a cannon, mean, massive, and heavy. His chest puffed out and his posture swelled out to cover the entire alleyway. Smoke billowed from his nostrils and his eyes shot daggers. His voice, the low rumble of a soot-spewing diesel engine.

“Thievery isn’t the only thing that’s about to run in the family,” he spoke, taking slow steps towards the vagrant, “now where’d your little misbegotten family run off to girlie?”

Samintha spit back, “y’know you don’t have to cock that thing, it does it for you, all you’re doing is making yourself look like a jackass.”

Charles reached into his trench coat and retrieved a full magazine. He removed a single round and put the magazine back into its home. Holding the round between his thumb and pointer finger he held it up to Pink-hair’s face.

“Now I don’t appreciate the sass, you’re little brother pissed me off something fierce and you’re starting to do the same, you see this don’tcha?” Charlie said.

Samintha turned her head and pulled against her bindings. Charles holstered his pistol and grabbed her face forcing her to keep eye contact. His fingers dug into her cheeks and with his free hand he pressed the cartridge against her forehead, pushing the tip of the bullet against her skin.

“You know what this little guy does right?” Charlie asked, and before she gave him an answer he continued, “this’ll punch a hole in you the size of a grapefruit and the resulting shockwave will turn whatever organs that didn’t get blown out of you into a fine jelly, you’ve stolen from the wrong muchacho girlie and I’ve got no qualms with taking you in dead just to spite your brothers so you better start fucking talking.”

“I’d listen to him, I’m really not in the market for killing kids, but my friend here isn’t as morally sound as I am,” Mallory added, nudging his captive.

“Fine,” she responded, “I’ll take you there, but you have to promise to let us go if we give you the money.”

“I suppose we could make that arrangement,” Charlie lied.

[Kuzuru]

*Thwink*

“C’mon let’s go,” the older brother said, “she ain’t coming.”

*Thwink*

Maxx watched his brother walk across the room and pick up the battered tin can. Taking a few paces to the center of the room Parker weighed the can in his hand, threw it up in the air, and swung his bat.

*Thwink*

The rusted can soared across the room and smacked against the far wall, it bounced off at an odd angle and came to rest in front of Maxx. He kicked the can back to his brother who stopped it with his foot. A dim battery-powered lantern struggled to fill the ancient meat locker with light. Maxx, the youngest sibling, sat on a stack of pallets, drying his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie. Parker leaned into a batter’s stance and swung his bat in slow motion, pretending to hit a homerun. He swung a few more times before standing up straight and glancing through the open door. Dark angular shapes hid in the darkness, vestiges of an abandoned butchershop long forgotten now repurposed as a temporary hideout.

“How can you be so calm when they got sis?” Maxx asked, his voice cracking.

Parker held up the credit chip between his fingers and answered, “che, but we’ve got their money, and there ain’t no way they’ll turn her in before coming for their cash, we just gotta take this to mum and she’ll get Sam back no problem.”

“You promise?”

“Che,” Parker answer and adjusted his bandana, “let’s dip, we’ve wasted enough time.”

Maxx sniffled and wiped his eyes one more time, “okay.”

*Thwink*

There were few places in the Omniverse more fit to be a den of thieves than Ameara’s compound, and few people more fit to be their matriarch than Ameara herself. Nested within a decaying corner of tier six, hidden behind a jungle of rust and dilapidation. It was of modest size, an old theater gutted and repurposed into a ragged hive of cutthroats and criminals. A bar, cobbled together from the remnants of the concession stand, served dangerous tonics filled with illicit substances. The main stage served as Ameara’s chambers. A large throne, once a set piece for a play about a king, was permanently installed centerstage and offered Ameara an imposing presence over those that served her. A lone man prostrated himself before the Queen, his hands clasped together as if he was praying. Around the edge of the stage and corners of the room tugs, armed with shoddy excuses for rifles, stood sentry.

“Tell me my dear, why have you returned to me with empty hands yet again?” Ameara’s voice cold with disinterest echoed from her perch.

“I beg your forgiveness ma’am,” the begging man spoke, his voice riddle with fever, “I tried, I really did, but the fuzz was onto me so I had to ditch the loot, I was gonna double back for it, but they found where I hid it.”

Ameara nodded. She emanated an alien attractiveness, a sort of bizarre elegance befitting a monarch of rust. Half of her head was shaved and covered with cybernetic implants, while the other half was a long mane of bright red hair. Metal screws poked out from beneath her pale skin, implants long since obsolete. A chrome-plated revolver hung heavy in her limp-wristed hand. It stuck out as a glimmering status symbol in a wasteland of decaying industry. Ameara thumbed the release for the revolver’s cylinder and loaded three rounds. She closed the cylinder and spun it.

“Asking for my forgiveness is as fruitless as asking for this pistol’s forgiveness,” she said as she stood from her perch. Metal plates drilled into the bottom of her combat boots clanged with every step, punctuating her words. She slowly walked down the steps that led to her throne. She stopped before the kneeling man and held the barrel to his forehead. Once again she spoke, “instead you should be courting Lady Luck, one bullet for each of your failures that gives you a fifty-fifty chance, poor odds if you ask me.”

“Miss Ameara, please I, I won’t --”

She pulled the trigger.

*Click*

“Congratulations,” she said, lowering the pistol, “you should buy a lottery ticket, now get out of here, next time it’ll be four.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The man stood and hurried out of the auditorium. As he stepped to the door two boys walked through. They froze and watched the man shuffle past them. The older boy growled at him as he passed and then laughed as he scurried off.

“Che, what a loser,” Parker said as he walked towards the stage, “mom, we’ve got an issue.”

Maxx climbed up the stage and embraced Ameara.

She put a hand on his back and asked, “where’s your sister?”

“That’s kinda what the problem is,” Parker answer, “we knicked a credit chip from some dickheads --”

“Language,” she interupted.

“Right, sorry ma,” he said and shuffled about, “anyways we knicked this credit chip from a couple of dudes at the racetrack, big payday, but they snagged Sammy ‘fore we could get away.”

“How much was on the chip?”

“About 20,000.”

Ameara smiled. She rarely smiled. She held out her thin hand and Parker gave her the chip. She slid it down the front of her shirt, hiding it in her bra. Maxx was pushed away and she turned her back on the two kids. She climbed to the top of her throne.

“Those buffoons know nothing of the jackpot they’ve got themselves into,” she said, her voice returning to frigid detachment, “they’ll come for their money and find little more than death.”

Parker slung an arm around his brother and said, “see, told ya mom would take care of it, ain’t no way they gonna keep sis from us.”

[Kuzuru]

It was a strange sight to see the two bounty hunters escorting a teenage girl. Charlie had long since holstered his weapon and were it not for the restraints on Samintha’s wrists the trip would’ve seemed little more than an odd family. But, that was not the case and the cuffs, which were little more than riot-grade zipties, implied a more insidious relationship. And were they any deeper no one would’ve batted an eye, but Tier 4 still carried a sense of morality, however superficial. Curious eyes followed them everywhere they went, with looks of disgust and abhorrence that Charles had no problem returning. Mallory fiddled with his phone, pulling up maps of each tier and doing a cursory memorization of each.

“Make a left here,” Mallory said, “we’ll take the elevators to Tier 6.”

“Gotcha,” Charles answered.

Sam stayed quiet, only answering the occasional question from her captors. She chewed on the insides of her cheeks and glanced around, trying in vain to find an avenue of escape. Not that she would get far, without a knife there was no way she could escape her bindings, and they would catch her quickly. Religion wasn’t her cup of tea, but she prayed to Omni that Ameara would rescue her.

They reached the elevator terminal and stepped inside. It was little more than a spherical capsule fitted inside a large tube capable of fitting about ten people, maybe fifteen if they squeezed in real tight. They stepped inside and the door sealed behind them. Mallory pressed the key for Tier 6. The sound of pressurized air hissed around them and after a few seconds they plummeted into the depths of Coruscant. It was a twisting and winding trip, filled with sharp turns and nearly-horizontal angles. Built-in stabilizers ensured a gentle ride, so much so that a glass of milk filled to the brim wouldn’t have spilled. Sam watched the city whizz by through an open viewport. It wasn’t anything special to the natives, but back on Earth it would’ve been something you had to go to Six-flags for.

Eventually they came to a stop and after a few seconds the doors slid open. They had arrived inside an Empire checkpoint. Stormtroopers and clerical staff littered the building. The trio stepped forward for processing. A floating droid, reminiscent of a large eyeball, scanned them. A buzzer sounded, Charlie rolled his eyes, and Mallory sighed. A stormtrooper and a woman wearing an unarmored uniform motioned for the three to step out of line.

“Quite a bit of weaponry you’ve got there citizens, I’ll need your IDs and permits please,” the administration officer said.

The bounty hunters obliged her and she spent a few seconds examining them. The stormtrooper shifted about, keeping his finger on the trigger guard of his rifle.

“Ah bounty hunters I see,” the officer muttered, before glancing towards the girl, “I’m assuming she’s a criminal?”

Charles went to say something, but Mal elbowed his ribs.

“Yes, we captured her this morning, but her brothers got away,” Mallory said, “that’s kind of why we’re here.”

The officer nodded towards the trooper, “yes, yes, well we appreciate your help, we can take her from here.”

The stormtrooper moved to grab Sam, but Charlie stepped in front of him. The bounty hunter towered over the armored trooper and puffed out his chest.

“Stand aside citizen,” the trooper’s filtered voice commanded him.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Mallory said, putting his hands up, “wait a second, like I said we’re here to get her brothers and she’s going to lead us to them, we can’t have you taking her just yet.”

“I’d suggest you tell your friend to stand down,” the officer said, “we tend to look poorly upon those who obstruct justice.”

“Sorry, sorry, he’s a bit of a meathead,” Mallory said.

“I’m not a meat-” Charlie began to speak.

“Shut up Charles you damned meathead,” Mallory snapped, “at any rate according to the rules and regulations set forth by the Empire’s Code of Conduct for bounty hunters, we have seven standard days to turn over a captured mark to the Empire’s custody, ergo, we’ve got a bit over six days before we need to hand her over to you, her brothers are wanted criminals as well and she’s our only lead to them, so if you took her from us now you’d be stepping over a dollar to pick up a nickel.”

The stormtrooper turned to his superior for guidance and she stood silent, mulling over what she had just heard. After a few moments of deliberations the officer handed back their ID cards and weapon permits.

“Very well,” she said, “but, I will be expecting to see the rest of her family in custody before the week is over.”

“No worries about that ma’am, we’re experts at what we do,” Mal responded, and turned towards the exit, “come on Charlie, let’s get going.”

[Kuzuru]

Tier six was an amalgamation of concrete, asphalt, and sadness. Crumbling towers of industry scratched the the ever-present miasma that floated above the city. Broken windows served as eyes for these ruined monoliths. Liquor stores and other questionable establishments existed on almost every street corner and were protected by the various gangs and factions of Tier Six. The trio walked past a strung-out vagrant who sat atop a dumpster muttering gibberish. Living in such a place you grew accustomed to the occasional thunderclap call of a gunshot, you just prayed that the lead wasn’t heading in your direction.

“This place is a dump,” Charles noted, “you actually live down here girlie?”

Samintha looked away and answered, “yeah, you get used to it though.”

“Where we heading to anyways, Mal?” Charlie asked.

“Not sure,” he responded and then asked Sam, “where would your brothers go? You guys got a hideout or something?”

She shook her head up and down. Mal rolled up the sleeve on his left arm and held his forearm in front of him. A rectangular seam appeared on his flesh and with a mechanical whir the section of skin lifted up and slid out of the way to reveal a touchpad and some circuitry. Using his free hand he used the touchpad to access a holographic map of Tier Six. He brought his arm down to Samintha.

“Where is it?” he asked.

The girl studied the map for a moment. She then brought up her zip tied hands and pointed to a spot on the East side of the city.

“Here,” she said.

Mallory pulled back his arm and tapped a few more commands into the prosthetic. He cross referenced the map with the Empire’s bounty database.

“Well fuck,” Mal said, “ain’t no way we’re just waltzing in there.”

“Why not?” Charles asked.

“Because that’s Ameara’s hideout,” he answered.

The two shared a moment of silence.

Charlie asked Sam, “what the hell are you and your siblings doing with Ameara?”

“She’s our mom,” Samintha answered.

Were it not for the staccato of distant gunfire you could have heard a pin drop. The bounty hunters shared incredulous looks with one another. Charlie groaned and kicked a nearby trashcan, spilling its rotten guts across the street.

“You gotta be fucking with us, Ameara doesn’t have kids,” Mallory said, offering a nervous laugh.

“You’re wrong,” Sam said, pausing for a moment before continuing, “we’re not blood related, but she got us off the streets.”

“Off the streets and into people’s back pockets,” Charlie quipped, “look Mal, Ameara or not I want my fucking money, and we got one of the bitch’s street rat kids, we’ve got the upperhand when it comes to bartering.”

Mallory shrugged, “either way we can’t just go in there guns blazing, we’ll get gunned down before we get a chance to say ‘yippee kai-yay’, we need a plan and we need to do this on our terms right?”

“Right.”

--

It had been a largely pleasant day for the matriarch of rust. Asides from her surrogate daughter getting kidnapped things were running smoothly. Her chem trade was booming and thanks to the little present her children brought in she spent most of the day daydreaming about how to spend her newly acquired wealth. Indeed if there ever was a night for wine and a lavish meal this was it. She even felt generous enough to invite the remaining Graves to her feast, as well as a few exemplary members of her organization. It was during this feast that things began to turn sideways on her. As she sipped her wine and filled her stomach a guard burst through the door and into her dining hall.

“Mistress Ameara you have a visitor, she has a message for you,” the guard said.

Ameara finished her drink and asked, “can it not wait? I’m in a good place right now, and I’d rather not muck it up.”

“Yes, well, it’s about your daughter and those bounty hunters,” the man replied.

The matriarch looked across the table at Parker and Maxx. The eldest hid his curiosity well behind a veil of apathy, the younger had yet to develop such a defense mechanism and stared at her with big green eyes that were on the verge of tears. She rubbed her temples with one hand and poured more wine with another.

After a sigh and another sip she spoke, “send them in.”

The messenger that was brought before Ameara appeared to be a sack of desiccated bones, held loosely together by a tight sack of skin. Once upon a time her skin had been a light pinkish color, but it now took on a shade of deep blue. It was obvious that the girl abused starspike, a fanciful hallucinogen that eliminated hunger pains and tinted your skin. Some would take it as a diet aid, while others took it because it was cheaper than food, most would take it cause it was a helluva good time. Either way starspike was damn addictive and damn profitable to those that sold it. Hell it was probably the matriarch’s operation that got the girl hooked in the first place.

“You have something to tell me my lovely bluebird?” Ameara asked her.

The blue-skinned girl rubbed her arm and glanced around the room. Her eyes crossed over the food and eventually made their way back to the matriarch.

“Yeah, uhm, these two bounty hunters wanted me to tell you they’ve got your daughter,” she paused for a moment to gather he thoughts then continued, “they say that they’ll trade you even Stevens for the credit chip that was stolen from them, if not they’ll turn the girl over for her bounty.”

Ameara almost smiled, “and where would we find them my dear butterfly?”

“Oh, yeah, hold on I wrote it down,” she rolled up her sleeve and read an address written on her arm in sharpie, “2354 N Bellwood St. Room number 106, eight o'clock sharp, they also want you to come personally, Ameara.”

The matriarch rolled her eyes and sipped her wine. She tapped her finger against the table and hummed a soft melody. The youngest of the Grave’s children jumped from his seat and ran around the table to his mom’s side. He tugged at her scarlet dress and looked at her with pleading eyes.

“Please mom, go get Sam back,” he said damn near on the verge of tears.

Ameara rubbed his back with her free hand and downed the rest of her drink. She stood and everyone held their breath.

“Very well,” she began, “we’ll play ball.”

[Kuzuru]

It was around six o’clock that the three checked into Motel ala Bell. The place charged by the hour, a perfect setup for drug deals and hookers. And while the sight of two grown men checking into a room with a young girl was enough to turn heads, Tier Six was not the place to ask questions. Room 106 was on the ground floor of the two story complex, but they had instead rented the room directly above 106. The bay windows gave them a good view of the main parking lot. The room itself was as drab as expected. A single king size bed no doubt infested with all manner of alien creepy crawlers. The faucet was plagued with a constant drip and if one listened closely they could hear roaches scuttling behind the cracked and peeling wallpaper. A radiator, perhaps as old as the Omniverse itself, sat in the corner of the room humming.

"Ah, ain't nothing in the world like a good motel," Charlie said as they turned on the lights.

Mallory rolled his eyes and nudged Sam through the doorway. Using a pocket knife he cut the riot cuffs that bound her hands and told her to sit in the corner. Charlie shed his trench coat and sat on the windowsill.

"You think that druggie is actually going to deliver our message?" He asked his companion.

Mal shrugged and answered, "I mean she's probably as reliable as anyone else down here, but who knows, three-hundred credits is quite a payday for someone like that, I'm sure if we asked her to rob a bank she probably wouldn't think twice about it if we offered her a bit of cash."

"I just don't like relying on something so unreliable," Charlie said.

Mallory didn't answer, instead he shucked his own coat and spread it open on the bed. Underneath the man's coat was a series of three holsters, two of them holding different kinds of pistols and the third cradling a sawed-off Remington. One-by-one he drew the weapons and set them down atop his cot. His belt held a few shells of twelve gage buckshot and his hip held a few magazines of 9mm ammunition. He also produced Sam's taser from his pocket and tossed it onto the pile. The bounty hunter frowned and turned to Charlie.

"We're a bit low on hardware Charles, what did you bring?" Mal asked.

Charlie chuckled and produced his big ol' hand cannon.

"Just that?" Mal asked.

Charlie nodded and answered, "if I would've known we were going out for more than just groceries I would've brought a bit more heat, but as they say, hindsight's twenty-twenty."

"Well shit," Mallory said, "we're going to have a helluva time if Ameara decides to scrap."

The pink-haired girl piped up, "she's not going to come alone y'know, and she'll have molten metal poured down your throats for fucking with me."

The two hunters shared a quick look of both disbelief and amusement. Charlie stood and rummaged in the pockets of his coat, after a few seconds of searching he produced both a cigar and a lighter. With a chuckle he lit the cigar and took a long draw. He held the smoke in his lungs and savored the aromatic flavor of the tobacco and spices. A cloud escaped through his nostrils and he walked over to the girl. He crouched. The cigar hung loose between the edge of his lips. He brought his hand up and formed a finger gun and pointed the barrel at Samintha's head. Instinctively she pulled away and tried to brush away his hand.

"You think we're some kind of amateurs?" Charles asked, his voice dropping into a low gear, "you think we don't know who we're up against do you girlie?"

She said nothing.

"When I first came to this hellhole of a universe, guess where I landed?"

Again she did not speak.

"Right in the middle of Tier Six, smack dab in the shit girlie," he took a puff of his cigar and continued, "and guess who picked me up? Ameara.”

Charlie paused for a moment to let that sink in before continuing, “that’s right, for the first year or so I was Ameara’s enforcer, her number one badass skull cracker, and you know what? When the Empire came calling she threw me under the bus, that bitch has no loyalty, not to me, not to you or your siblings. So unless she’s changed in the past year, which I doubt, you’re fucked girlie.”

The brute offered a smile before standing and turning back to his companion. He finished off his cigar and extinguished the butt in an ashtray on the nightstand. Mallory shook his head and went back to messing around with his gear. Charles threw on his coat and moved for the door.

“Where are you going?” Mal asked.

“That was my last smoke,” Charlie said as he opened the door, “don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

Mallory sighed. He looked at their hostage and then back at the door.

“You hungry?” He asked, “think I’m gonna order a pizza before shit goes down, what kinda toppings do you like?”

[Kuzuru]

“Come on Maxx,” Parker said, “let’s go.”

The elder brother stood in the doorway to their room while the younger brother sat on his bed, playing with a ramshackled set of toys.

“Why?” Maxx asked, not bothering to look up from his toys, “mom said she’d bring back Sam, you said we got nothin’ to worry about.”

Parker looked away and answered, “che, mom ain’t going, she’s sending Marques and his crew, and she only sends them if things are gonna get dicey, I don’t like that.”

“She wouldn’t let Sam get hurt, would she?”

“I,” Park started, but paused to gather his thoughts, “I’m just worried about Sam s’all.”

Maxx nodded and stopped playing with his toys. Tears crept into the corner of the young boy’s eyes. It looked as if he was going to collapse into a puddle of sad at any moment.

“Che, don’t cry,” Parker said, “that’s what i’m getting at though, we can’t just sit here while sis is in trouble, so let’s get ‘fore shit gets dicey.”

--

Mallory sat on the nightstand and kept one eye on his phone and the other on the parking lot. He texted his Camelot love and hummed a soft melody. Sam sat, half asleep, in the corner of the room next to a half-empty pizza box. A ziptie kept her bound to the radiator. Around 7:30 a blacked-out Escalade pulled into the parking lot. Mal pocketed his phone and turned his full attention to the suspicious vehicle. Four men got out, each of them visibly packing heat. One carried a briefcase, while the other three held a set of modified short-barreled shotguns.

“Fuck,” Mal said, “they’re here a bit early.”

Mallory met them just outside the door to room 106. The men stopped a few feet from him and for a moment the five shared an awkward silence.

The one carrying the briefcase, and who Mal assumed to be the ringleader, spoke first, “where’s the girl?”

“Where’s Ameara?” Mallory countered.

The man held the briefcase level with one hand and unclasped the latches with the other. He opened the case and revealed a laptop strapped into the case sitting atop a bed of money. He flicked the power on and opened a video call application. After a few seconds the Queen of Rust appeared on the screen. Her pale eyes fell upon Mallory.

“So you’re the one causing all of this trouble?” She asked.

“You were supposed to come in person.”

She rolled her eyes and responded, “why would I do a silly thing like that? Where’s your friend? The bluebird said there was two of you.”

Mallory shrugged, “he went out for smokes, we weren’t expecting you to show up quite so early.”

The bounty hunter kept an idle hand on the pistol in his hip holster. Cotton filled his mouth and he tried to swallow it down. Ameara’s cheek rested on her fist and she looked as if she was going to fall asleep. Mallory took a deep breath to still his rapid fire heart. It didn’t work.

“So where is my girl?” Ameara asked.

Mallory nodded to the room behind him, “don’t worry, she’s safe, just figure it was prudent to keep her inside while the grownups talked.”

“Very well Mr.” she began, leaving the sentence open-ended.

“Mallory, just call me Mallory.”

“Very well Mallory,” she said, shifting about in her throne, “I see no need for bloodshed tonight, we’re both adults, what are your terms?”

“We trade the girl for the credits your kids stole from us,” Mallory said, “that seems like a pretty even trade to me.”

Nearby, unbeknownst to the negotiators, Parker and Maxx moved around the edge of the building. The entire structure was shaped like a horseshoe with the parking lot inside. They climbed to the second floor and stopped in front of room 206, directly above the negotiations. They kept low and peered over the edge, just enough to see and hear the proceedings.

After considering this offer for a moment Ameara replied, “no.”

Mallory’s gut tightened and he spoke, “no? What do you mean no? We’ve got your kid.”

“You have an asset of mine, an asset which has a tangible value,” she answered, “that value is far less than 20,000 credits.”

“So what then? You’re just going to let us turn her in?” Mal asked.

Ameara laughed and shook her head, “now, now, even I’m not that cruel, there is 2000 dollars in this case, I think that’s more than a fair offer for the girl.”

Mallory shifted his gaze from one thug to the next. Each of them were strapped, he even spotted the stock of a submachine gun poking out from beneath the briefcase holder’s jacket. He eyed the stacks of cash sitting below the laptop. Mental arithmetic counted at least a grand on the surface layer, she wasn’t bluffing about the cash. Two large was still a decent payday, and it sure as hell beat the gauntlet they’d have to go through to get their money back. He pulled his hand away from his pistol. Charles would be pissed, but that was nothing new.

“Smart boy,” Ameara noted.

Someone shot first, and it wasn’t Mallory. The rapport of a heavy caliber round echoed across the parking lot. It took a few moments for Mallory to truly grasp the situation and in that time several more shots rang out. The ringleader collapsed, throwing the briefcase and laptop against the ground. One of the other thugs fell shortly after while the other two scrambled to defend themselves. Mallory crouched down behind a cement partition, the kind used as an artificial flower bed, and scanned the area. His eyes snapped to a muzzle flash from deep in the parking lot. Charles had come up behind them and was using their Escalade as cover.

“Goddamnit,” Mal muttered, and drew his pistol.

The two remaining thugs had begun to return fire, peppering the SUV with buckshot and slugs. Charles ducked down behind the vehicle and took the free moment to reload. Mallory peeked out from his hiding spot and took a few shots at the closest target. The man buckled over as Mal lit up his back. Mal fired a few more shots to finish the job. The final gangster, noticing that he was outgunned at this point, fired one last shot before dipping out. Charlie took aim and emptied half his clip at the fleeing assailant. The man vaulted a nearby fence line and disappeared into the darkness. After a few seconds spent assessing the situation the two bounty hunters left their respective cover.

“What the fuck Charlie,” Mallory shouted, “just where in the hell did you go!? And why the fuck did you come back taking shots like some God-damned cowboy?”

In the time it took for Charlie to cross the stretch of parking lot he had already holstered his pistol and lit up a cigar. He took one puff and held up a finger for Mallory to be quite. The cigar-smoker crouched in front of Ameara’s laptop. He scooped the computer up and turned it around to face him. The screen was cracked, but Ameara’s pale face still registered through the spiderweb cracks.

“No deal you heartless bitch,” Charles said, his voice adopting a strangely spirited tone.
For the first time in perhaps a very long time the Queen of Rust seemed genuinely surprised.

“Charles,” she said, “I thought you were still in prison.”

Charlie scowled, “well you thought wrong you sleazy cunt.”

“Now now Charles, no need for such scathing language,” she said, “you’ve got my attention.”

“I want my money.”

She reached into her bra and produced the credit chip, “you mean this thing?”

Charlie didn’t answer.

“Boo, you’re no fun Charles, and to think I considered you a lover once,” she continued.

Mallory raised an eyebrow and interrupted, “wait, you fucked her? You never told me that.”

“Shut up Mal for five fucking minutes,” Charles snapped at his partner, “now listen here, you, you snake, I’m coming for my money and you can either play along or end up like your lackeys here, capische?”

Without waiting for an answer Charlie slammed the laptop shut and threw it across the parking lot. Mallory pretended to be counting five minutes on his non-existent wristwatch and only stopped when his partner shot him a withering glare.

“Okay for real though,” Mallory said, “just what the hell are we going to do now chief?”

“I,” Charlie looked away, “I didn’t think that far.”

“And why in the hell did it take you an hour to go get smokes?”

Charles offered a noncommittal shrug and rubbed the back of his neck. Mallory caught wind of a fragrance. It was faint, but he could detect the scent of strawberry-flavored perfume even over the scent of blood. His eyes narrowed. A purplish bruise peeked out just below his friend’s shirt, the kind of bruise that one could only get from a pair of over-eager lips. The gears locked into place and Mallory facepalmed.

“You went to a fuckin’ whorehouse didn’t you?” He asked.

“Sorry, didn’t think it’d take so long,” Charlie chuckled, “I guess that’s a curse a stud like me has to live with.”
Mallory threw up his hands and shouted, “I could have fucking died!”

“Yo, fuckos!” A familiar voice shouted at them.

Above them Parker and his brother stood leaning on the balcony’s railing. Charles reached for his pistol, but the older brother held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Che, we ain’t got no beef with you two,” Parker said, “at least not anymore, from the sounda things our mom ain’t cut out to be a parental figure no more.”

“She ain’t cut out to be anything ‘cept a corpse,” Charles barked back.

“Right, well that’s what I’m getting at,” Parker continued, “I know a way to get you guys in right under her nose, s’all you two have to do is free my sis and give us that two-grand homeboy’s bleeding all over, hell I won’t even make you clean the blood off.”

Mallory and Charles shared a look before glancing back to the stack of bloody money. Charles shrugged and rolled the corpse over with his foot and set to work collecting the cash. Mallory sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Looks like you got a deal,” he conceded.

[Kuzuru]

Inside the hotel room a family reunion took place. Sam exclaimed as her brothers stepped inside, but her face quickly soured as the two bounty hunters followed. Maxx hugged her as Mallory walked over and cut the ziptie that bound her. Parker’s brow furrowed and he walked over to his sister.

He asked, “these two didn’t fuck with you, did they sis?”

What he was implying was obvious.

“We didn’t fuck with your sister,” Charlie answered, “we’re God-damned professionals, not some sleezeball headhunters.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sam muttered.

Charlie opened his mouth, but Mallory interrupted him, “we should get going, it’ll probably take a while before any L.E.O.s show up, but I’d rather not sit around and wait for them.”

Parker nodded and Charlie huffed.

It didn’t take long for the two hunters to gather their gear, but it was enough time for the Graves family to get reacquainted and share their mother’s betrayal. Mallory handed the pink-haired girl her taser, which she snatched from his hand. He then ushered the kids and Charlie outside, did one last combover for any leftovers, and then stepped outside. Outside Charlie had already set to work scavenging weapons and ammunition off the corpses. Mallory turned in his room keys, or rather left them on the counter since the attendant was absent. By the time they were ready to go it had been just under a half hour and sirens were beginning to appear in the distance. They stuffed their newly acquired assets under their jackets and followed the kids deeper into the slums of Tier 6.

--

The Graves children led the two hunters to the south end of Ameara’s compound. They posted up across the street in the dilapitated shell of an old OmDonald’s. The telltale beams of flashlights danced around the compound as guards made their nightly rounds. Parker noticed an increase in security, but said nothing. He nodded towards Maxx who began to fish inside the pockets of his hoodie. The youngest child produced a set of green-tinted goggles. Parker took them, flicked a switch on the side, and held them up to his eyes. With a low-pitched whine the goggles offered him a perfect, albeit green-shifted, view of Ameara’s base. He passed the goggles to the two hunters and pointed off into the darkness.

“Che, see that set of bushes against the wall there?” Parker asked, guiding Mallory’s gaze.

“Yeah,” Mal answered and handed his partner the goggles.

“Behind them is a basement window that leads to the old boiler room, mom--Ameara, told her boys to board it up,” he said, pausing for a moment to collect his words, but the jackoffs forgot to do it and the bushes make sure no one remembers it’s there. So we’ll go one at a time, Maxx first, then myself, You two, with Sammy bringing up the rear. That’ll put us right below Ameara’s room.”

Without another word they passed the goggles off to Samintha, who strapped them to her head. She revealed her taser and stood ready to shock the ever-living Underverse out of anyone that happened upon them. Maxx bolted from his hiding soot and bounded off into the darkness. His small frame did well to avoid the roving beams of light and after a few minutes Sam nodded to Parker.

“He’s in,” she said.

Next up was Parker. The boy tightened his bandanna and shoelaces before sprinting across the street. Charles yawned and fought back the urge to spark up a cigar. Mallory kept his eyes on Sam, waiting for her signal. When it was his turn he moved at a low crouch, not sprinting, but rather embodying the mantra -- “slow is smooth, smooth is fast.” He kept his eyes pinned to the patroling guards. Once or twice a stray beam of light whipped near him, but none of them caught sight of the intruder.

Sam glanced at Charles and asked, “when you… when you find my mom, what are you going to do?”

Charles grunted and answered, “the fuck you think I’m gonna do girlie?”

Sam turned away and said, “it’s just, she’s not that bad of a person y’know? She gets these headaches, I think it’s cause of those screws in her head, but sometimes she gets real distant and cold, and, and I know she loves us, but sometimes it’s real hard for her to think straight. Just, I don’t know, please don’t kill her.”

Charlie said nothing and turned his attention in the direction of the bushes. Sam opened her mouth but let the words die on her tongue. Mallory had already made his way inside, and after a few seconds Sam finally gave the all clear to Charlie. The hunter took one last look at her, grunted, and then disappeared into the darkness. Sam sniffled, raised her goggles, and wiped her eyes.

[Kuzuru]

The boiler room, despite only being a few years old, was an aged derelict. Rust-covered pipes stretched across the ceiling, threatening to conk the noggin of anyone too tall. Cobwebs choked out what was left of the available airspace and thin layer of ashy dust clung to every surface. The Graves children navigated this labyrinth with ease, while the two adults found themselves practically crawling through the network of potential concussions. A single spark flicker in the darkness and gave way to the flame of Charlie’s lighter. This meager halo of light guided the two hunters across the room where they reconvened with the trio of latchkey children. A single door separated them from the rest of the compound and it was here that they hatched the next phase of their plan.

“Che, we’re almost right underneath Ameara’s room,” Parker said, “problem is we have to go through the bar to get there.”

Mallory responded, “well I don’t know how we’re going to do that, it’s not like Charlie and I are regulars, and we sure as hell aren’t going to be able to come back through after we rob the Rust Queen herself.”

Charlie held up his revolver and said, “don’t worry ‘bout that Mal, we can blast our way through and then we won’t have to worry about blasting our way out.”

Sam chuckled and said, “yeah, good luck with that, everyone one of them is packing heat and I don’t care how thick your skull is it ain’t stopping that much lead.”

Charlie grunted and said, “you better what your mouth girlie or you’ll find out just how-”

“Quiet,” Parker commanded harsh and swift, “we don’t need to go in guns blazin’ this late at night ninety percent of them are either too drunk, too high, or a combination of both to even notice us, let alone give a damn.”

“Yeah, but even then how are we going to get back out?” Mal asked.

Parker didn’t answer. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he thought. There were a thousand ways that his siblings and he could go, but none of them were suitable for the bulkier bounty hunters.

“Well?” Charles prodded.

“Che, I’m thinking,” Parker answered, “alright, we go through the bar, straight to Ameara’s room, bust in, take the cash, and then we go to the loading port at the back of the building, that’s where they transport all their dope and other illegal shit, we jack one of their armored vans and dip out, sound good?”

Charlie chuckled and answered, “I’m game for some good ol’ fashion grand theft auto, let’s rock and roll.”

For the most part, Parker was right. The barroom was a converted concession stand for the old theatre. Several posters advertising various plays clung against the walls, each of them a palimpsest full of graffiti and stains. Blue-skinned spike addicts mingled with alcoholic gangbangers forming a crowd of less-than-savory street urchins. A thick cloud of cigarette smoke filled the air and added a hazy ambiance to dim lighting. Music was pumped in through several low-quality speakers wired to the rafters. On the other side of the barroom was the hallway that eventually branched off into Ameara’s quarters. Parker led the group through the sea of miscreants while Mallory and Charles brought up the rear.

Everyone seemed too preoccupied to notice the group, everyone except for one scabby gutterpunk. The lanky bastard sported a facefull of piercings and half of a purple mohawk. He wore a faded denim vest hung atop a band T-shirt that had as many holes as it had stains. He walked with a haphazard stumbling gait that threatened to spill the two mugs of beer that he held in his hands. In his hurry to get back to his card game the five-foot tall rat accidently slammed into Charlie and spilled his beer over the bounty hunter in the process.

“Oi!” the scumbucket shouted and grabbed at Charlie’s jacket, “you gonna pay for those you fat motherfucker?!”

Without a word Charlie reeled back and laid the punk out. Mohawk-boy was practically sent flying across the room, only coming to a stop as he collided with a table. In one cataclysmic instant the powder keg of violence was detonated. Now that an excuse was provided the entire room erupted into a no-hold-barred barroom brawl. Tables were tossed over and chairs were thrown. There were no discernible sides, just pure and utter bedlam. Poor bastards were glassed while others were beaten with pool cues. Charlie slugged another nearby mook while Mallory dodged a thrown bottle. Parker grabbed his siblings and slipped away in the confusion.

“Goddamnit Charles!” Mallory shouted as he pushed away another brawler.

“Not my fault,” Charles responded, “bastard ran into me!”

The two bounty hunters tried their best to fight through the crowd, but found themselves unable to make and real progress. A pool cue was cracked across Mal’s back and Charlie tackled the aggressor to the ground. Mallory swore as he watched his companion turn his attacker’s face into ground beef. There was no respite for Mallory as another drunk tried to gut him with a busted bottle.

It wasn’t until the thundering crack of a single gunshot called across the barroom that the brawl was ended. Charlie glanced up from his unconscious punching bag to find that a shotgun barrel had been leveled against his dome. Ameara stood at one end of the bar with a still-smoking revolver in her hand. At her side were two thugs; each of them decked out in makeshift body armor and carrying pump-action shotguns aimed at the two bounty hunters. Behind them the trio of siblings stood. Mallory reached for the shotgun hidden underneath his coat and was greeted by a blast of lead. The wall of buckshot slammed into his gut, only partially blocked by his mechanical arm. The force of impact sent Mallory stumbling onto his ass.

“Mal!” Charlie shouted and turned to Ameara, “you bitch.”

Ameara smiled and turned to her children, “thank you for coming to get me darlings, this is definitely something I didn’t want to miss, and as for you Charles, your words are hurtful, but I imagine the buckshot in your friend’s belly hurts more.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Charlie growled.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” Ameara said, “I hear that lead is bad for your health.”

Everyone had fallen silent and had either scurried off or formed a ring around the drama unfurling before them. None of them dared to bring attention to themselves, they had yet to answer for starting a brawl in her bar. Even the music had been silenced, leaving Mallory’s occasional groan as the only backdrop.

“You better fucking kill me and bury me in a deep grave you bitch,” Charles threatened, “‘cause if you don’t I’m coming for your head and your backstabbing brats.”

Maxx yelped and hid behind his sister as Charlie’s ferocious gaze fell upon them.

“Yeah that’s ride, hide you little rat,” Charles said, he flicked his wrist and sent a spray of someone else’s blood from his kuckles.

Ameara walked closer to the bounty hunter, taking her sweet time as she fiddled with her revolver. She released the cylinder and allowed every last bullet fall to the floor. She produced a single copper-coated round and loaded it into the cylinder. With a click she closed the cylinder and spun it. She stopped several feet away from the kneeling bounty hunter and smiled.

“I’m not without my mercy my dear Charlie,” she said, “you of all people should know that.”

“Bite me.”

“Hmmm, with that said you’re definitely pushing the limits of even my generosity,” Ameara leveled the revolver at Charlie's head and continued, “so I’m giving you a chance to live, five shots and one bullet, odds are against you, buuuut you’ve always been the lucky one, even so I don’t want to appear soft now do I?”

Charles said nothing.

“If you survive, your companion’s life is forfeit,” she said.

“Like hell it is,” Charles shouted, “just kill me and let him go.”

“I can’t do that, it’s out of my control at this point” she responded, “right now you should be asking Lady Luck for her hand, let’s begin, I’ve got half a glass of wine waiting for me and I’d rather not let it go stale.”

Ameara pulled the trigger.

*click*

[Kuzuru]

“Hm, one down,” Ameara said, “four to go.”

Charles glared down the barrel of her revolver. A metal guard blocked his view of the pistol’s cylinders so there was no way of knowing which trigger pull would spell the end of him. His eyes flicked past Ameara and to the shotgun-toting thug that was aiming for his chest. The Rust Queen was close enough that he could bumrush her before she could get more than a shot or two off, but Charlie had no intentions of trying to outrun a shotgun blast. He craned his neck to look at Mallory. The man’s metal arm looked shredded and an expanding pool of blood shimmered beneath him. If it weren’t for the soft rise and fall of Mallory’s chest Charlie would’ve taken him for dead. The other pump-action bandit stood a few feet away from the fallen bounty hunter, ready to give him another hot lead injection.

*click*

Charlie winced as the revolver’s hammer struck air.

“Two down,” Ameara said, “this must be agonizing for you darling, I can see it in your eyes, and believe me I’m rooting for you, I’d rather kill your friend over there, but like I said, it’s out of my control.”

*click*

“Three down.”

“Stop fucking with me and just get on with it,” Charlie pleaded.

If there was one thing that Charlie had learned about the Rust Queen, it was that she was honest. If she claimed that she would spare one of them, well, he could take her word for it. It was with that in mind that he accepted his fate, but what truly tortured him was that Mal’s fate was left to nothing more than a roll of the dice. Charlie had long ago accepted the fact that he could be killed, you had to in his line of work. What he refused to accept was being responsible for the death of his best friend.

“Ameara,” he said, “I’m not the type to beg, and I think you know that, so I won't, but I will swear on every last thing I can swear on that if you kill Mal instead of me, even Omni himself won’t be able to stop me from ripping you apart, and you better hope you don’t go to hell, ‘cause if you do I’ll be right there on your ass.”

“Oh how I love your threats Charlie,” Ameara responded, “truly, they send chills down my spine.”

*THWACK*

The sound that echoed across the bar was not that of a hammer striking air, but rather a bat cracking open a skull. Parker had blindsided the thug aiming for Charlie, knocking the man out cold. At almost the same time the other guard screamed and fell to the ground spasming as Sam’s taser lit him up. Ameara’s eyes went wide and Charlie smiled. In one solid motion the bounty hunter reached for his hand cannon, drew it, and aimed for the Rust Queen’s chest. Ameara squeezed her trigger and prayed to Lady Luck.

*click*

*BOOM*

Charlie’s pistol barked and fired a slug right into Ameara’s chest. In an instant Ameara was sent stumbling back as the bullet tore through her body. Bloody viscera was sent flying across the room as a fist-sized hole was punched through her shoulder blade. Dark blood gushed from the open wound and Ameara tumbled backwards, slamming hard against the ground. Sam and Maxx screamed and ran to their mother’s side. Parker did not say a word, but instead turned away. Astonishment swept through the crowd as reality set in. The Rust Queen was dead.

Charles stood and sweeped his pistol across the crowd before shouting, “any of you motherfuckers want the same treatment, go ahead and make a move.”

He stood before them with his chest heaving and sweat on his brow. Blood still stained his hands, long after it had dried. Smoke still danced with the barrel of his hand cannon. He did not move a muscle. His gaze trundled through the crowd, hoping to find an excuse to lay another scumbag out. Weeping filled the air as Maxx and Sam mourned the only person who had given a damn about them. When no one made a move Charlie sauntered over to his fallen comrade. He kicked the fallen thug in the gut and picked up the man’s shotgun. Charlie slid the revolver into his waistband and kept the shotgun pointed towards the crowd.

“You still with me Mal?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the potential threats.

Mallory groaned, “unfortunately, fuck, this hurts.”

“Yeah, just keep pressure on it,” Charlie answered.

He cradled the shotgun with one hand and reached into his jacket with the other. From his pocket he produced a half-burnt cigar and put it in his mouth. Again he reached into his pocket for a lighter and with a practiced motion lit the cigar. Charles breathed in deep and let out a big cloud of smoke.

“So what now Mal?” he asked.

As if to answer the question a distant explosion rocked the building. Blaster fire followed the explosion. Somebody came running through the front doors shouting that the EPD was coming. That was all it took for the bedlam to reemerge. Druggies, gangbangers, and pariahs all began a mad scramble to escape. Charlie stood over Mal and bulldogged anyone that got too close. Parker grabbed his siblings and tore them away from Ameara’s corpse. Charlie locked eyes with the Grave’s children one last time before they disappeared in the confusion. He chuckled and shook his head. By the time the blaster fire had reached them the crowd had dispersed and only a few stragglers either too injured or too intoxicated remained. Charles threw the shotgun aside and raised his arms in anticipation of the EPD.

Stormtroopers in their signature snow-white plastoid armor charged into the trashed bar. Each of them barked various orders at anyone who would listen. Charles scowled as a familiar face stepped into view. The officer from the checkpoint,now wearing a set of trooper armor sans helmet, smiled plainly at him.

“How the hell did you find us?” Charlie asked.

“You really think we’d just let you waltz off with a criminal just on good faith?” she said, “at the checkpoint we put a tracker on your friend there, been following you since, you’ve got a lot to explain.”

“That’s fine,” Charles said, “we’ve got nothing to hide, but uh, think you could get my friend here some help?”

“Sure thing.”

After a few minutes of waiting a pair of medics came in through the doors and began to stabilize Mallory. As they carted the man out on a stretcher the officer began to grill Charlie. Charlie took the questioning in stride. They had done everything more or less by the books and hadn’t acted far outside their bounds. Once the officer was satisfied she begrudgingly dismissed him and went about her business. Charlie sighed and flicked the butt of his cigar across the room. He sauntered over to Ameara’s corpse and took a good long look at his former lover.

“Damn shame, Ameara,” he said, shaking his head.

As he went to turn a glint of metal caught his eye. It was just barely peeking out from behind her bra and covered in blood, but it was unmistakably the credit chip that they had won. His jaw nearly hit the floor. He had all but given up any notion of recovering their money at this point, but perhaps Lady Luck had chose fit to smile on him. The bounty hunter looked around the room. Everyone was too busy wrangling criminals to bother paying attention to him. A smirk slipped across his lips as he bent down to retrieve the chip. There was a slight bit of resistance as he pull the chip from her bra. His heart sank. The chip was mangled. His bullet had torn a hole right through the damn thing and grenaded half of it into Ameara. He could practically hear the Rust Queen laughing in hell.

“Now that’s a damn shame,” he grumbled and let the chip fall back into the puddle of her blood.

[Kuzuru]

Charlie had been standing just outside of Tier Six’s checkpoint for what felt like hours. He massaged his hands and cringed as his knuckles ached; it had been a long while since he had gotten into a bar fight. He held his last cigar between his lips and would only take the occasional puff to keep the thing lit. Spackled blood stained his jacket and hair. He sighed. His entire body ached and his head pulsed with a migraine. It had been a long day. His eyebrows raised as the main door to the checkpoint was flung open. A familiar face stepped through, sporting a shredded cybernetic arm and a shirt filled with bullet holes.

“So, how are you feeling?” Charlie asked after exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“Not so bad, those bacta tanks work like a charm,” Mallory responded and then held up what remained of his prosthetic arm, “but, this thing is toast, which sucks since I had just fixed it.”

“Yeah, but you ain’t dead,” Charles noted, “so I suppose things aren’t so bad.”

Mal nodded and asked, “so did you find our money?”

Charles chuckled and Mallory frowned.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’?” Mallory asked.

“Well I found it, that bitch kept it in her bra, right where I shot her,” Charlie shook his head and took another puff, “so it’s toast.”

“I see,” Mallory said, “what about the kids? Did we at least get their bounty then?”

Charles shook his head, “nope.”

“What? Why not?”

“I suppose I could’ve grabbed them after Ameara went down, but” Charlie trailed off and didn’t finish.

“But what?” Mal probed, “the little slimeballs betrayed us didn’t they?”

Charlie shrugged, “not sure, after you went down they betrayed Ameara, so a double-cross-double-cross or something like that, whatever it was I figured they were more trouble than they were worth and so I let them go.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“We got Ameara’s bounty though,” Charlie offered.

“And how much was she worth?”

“Not 20,000”

Mallory repeated, “not 20,000… well, how much then?”

Charlie shrugged and polished off his cigar.

He chuckled and flicked the cigar across the street, “enough to get some more smokes, some food, and maybe enough left over to fix your arm.”

Mallory sighed, “so we’re not much better off than when we started huh?”

“Seems like it.”

Neither one of them said anything for a long time.

Mallory sighed, “this place sucks.”

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed, “come on, let’s get out of here.”

"Alright."

With that said the two turned around and walked into the checkpoint, leaving behind the bloody underbelly of Coruscant.