Two Idiots and a Deathwish

[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.”