Giggles waited. The camera waited with him. The camera did not see Giggles, because Giggles had shot the camera.

In fact, Giggles had shot all the cameras, or at least the four that were relevant to his position and route. The equipment had been substandard and his field of view was better than theirs- He wouldn't show up in the feed as much more than a blur. Now he reloaded the revolver with which he had done so.

As far as weapons went, this one was, quite unmistakably, shit. Both the components and the ammunition had come from a materials printer for about the price of a solid lunch. Putting an end to fragile unarmoured lenses in an underground parking lot that hadn't seen maintenance in ten years was pretty much all it was good for. Giggles wouldn't trust it to kill himself if he put it in his own mouth.

He needed a gun.

The anarchist posse he called family had scattered when things started to turn sour, and Giggles had lost all his money and virtually all his kit. It was worth it, though. He'd come to Frixion Prime with a clean tail. The only time limit on his stay here was his own carelessness. And though he took risks, Giggles was not careless- He'd be fine.

The sports skim he'd been waiting for pulled up. Giggles raised an eyebrow over his eyesac. It wasn't a aircar you bought because you needed to go somewhere fast, no. It was the type you bought to turn your money into sex without actually paying for the sex.

A lanky young man in a button shirt unfolded from its front seat. Giggles stepped out from behind a pillar with his parang at neck level.

"Key."

The key was handed over.

"Cell."

The young man hesitated. Giggles kneed him in the crotch and smacked his face with a reinforced glove, forcing him face first onto the top of the skim by the wrist before he could charge the taser implant in his fingertips.

"Cell."

The man's biometric readout was stressed but not forced, and so the cell changed hands without complaint. Giggles snatched it while keeping thumb and forefinger over both cameras, bapped him on the head with the hilt of his machete and riffled through his wallet. No cash, damnit. Of course not. Rich kid like him did it all on chip.

Giggles reached into the aircar door, stretching his arm to keep his face out of view, and shot the internal camera. The gunshot hardly damaged the inside of the car and he scowled. Having scowled to his taste, he speared a jammer module into the map system so that he couldn't be tracked via satellite, started the skim with the cell, tossed it outside and shot that too.

"Who's the chick magnet now," said the young criminal, sliding down the convertible top and smiling under his mask. He took to the skies with the wind in his hair.

Despite his precautions, he knew he had only one or two safe hours with the skim at most, but that was enough to sign in to a vehicle collectivisation service with his own cell and offer a fast, underpriced ride for cash only, using a generic picture of an aircar of the same model. He made a handful of credits off an aspiring businesswoman who'd missed her bullet mono and stared at the bizarre mismatch of car and driver with wordless suspicion but no complaint.

That was lunch, then.

Time was up and Giggles took the skim out over the coast. There were satellites watching every inch of the planet, but when the right amount of money reached the right amount of people, satellites tended to malfunction in unobtrusive and inexplicably consistent ways. Giggles put his feet on the dash and waited for the freshly hacked autopilot to bring him down to a holographically camouflage stretch of water.

Knowledge, as they say, is power. So is money. Giggles knew how these things worked, and as such, was about to make off with a little profit.

The seas parted and Giggles dropped out of the skim immediately as Lore Obsolete's wrecking engine started carving up the vehicle, blasting a measured amount of scrap with equally measured damage. One of Lore's clones watched Giggles with disinterest through a screen projected from his headpiece- Or more likely, Giggles just so happened to be behind the screen.

"Engines, fuel, alloy, seats. Cut for what you did to the computer and camera. Seventy-five per cent surcharge to make it look like a suicide." Lore's eyes finally focused on Giggles. "Eleven hundred for it."

He nodded. It was less than one per cent of the skim's price, but it was the best he would get, and Lore ran a tight hustle that needed a lot of money to keep quiet. It would keep him fed for a week or so. Long enough to put together a better scheme, something that could pay for a real weapon.

"Bullet's over there," said the clone, pointing and unfocusing again, and Giggles slipped off to the tiny railpod that launched Lore's clients back into the city.

The railpod fed into another system and left Giggles unmasked and unhooded in a transport hub under an exit labelled 'Hanging Gardens'. Screens flickered, hoverbots whirred, citizens bustled, each lost in their own little world of depression and business.

Giggles plopped himself on a bench and started laughing to himself. He laughed until he had to lay down.

"Live it, boys!"

Diana stepped off the shuttle that acted as an intermediary between the station where the fleet's ships, too large to enter the atmosphere, were docked, and the main spaceport of Frixion Prime. The fleet had just arrived, and everyone who wasn't useful in the various processes that would take place while it was docked was on shore leave. Diana's very obvious augmentations drew eyes throughout the crowded complex, and made many of the peacekeepers seem, undertsandably, uneasy.

She was exchanging her drachmas for Frixian currency when the announcement was played throughout the spaceport, to the dismay of many people in the process of leaving:

"We regret to announce that, due to an attack on the planet of Furyk by an unknown force, travel between planets will banned until the purpetrators are captured. Compensation will be paid to those who..."

Lovely. Suddenly Diana was grounded potentially for months, unless the Collective decided it would be worth angering the UFP to get moving again. And it'd probably even be a nightmare to get back to the Ariadne and the fleet, though Diana expected that with enough effort and a little cash she'd be able to convince someone. Still, that could happen later. For now, though, she had some time for enjoying herself, and she planned to take maximum advantage of it.

---

The bar was called Nova. It was one of those ones which tried to seem as modern as possible, without actually doing much differently besides giving the drinks weird names. It was nice enough, and several members of Diana's crew were with her, crowded around a circular table. They were off to one side of the room, so it was easier for other patrons to ignore the large group of inebriated people with augmentations.

Nova had its own specialty, shots of a drink "that could knock a troll onto its hindquarters, if it could get here". Need more be said? Of course, several people were accused of equipping alcohol scrubbers throughout that night, and come the following morning, several more regreted ever taking part.

Sitting on the bench, with its walking legs conorting the poor thing into such unnatural position, having to hunch over as it reads from the data pad with its tongue-like hands tasting of plastic is a long nosed orange colored critter with three eyes, three atteanae, a white colored robe and constant chriping to itself. It notices that someone started sitting next to it, some orange haired human. It cranes its head to see him just laying there choking on something presumably. It has seen humans before back in its own part of the galaxy, they're a common thing, but it has never seen a human do that.

Burolama just goes back to looking at what the data is saying. It says that there is a very high chance of windy weather in this part of the city and that there are vats of happy cheese for bulk purchase on delta street. Things are so orderly in this place. Still, the reason why Burolama was here in the first place takes top priority and that was the need to make a media deal with the mogul who runs this place. A whole network of reality TV shows from the expansive market of the Domain surely would be of great interest to it! But this mogul's a secretive one, hard to find in this metropolis and not one bit of coordinates. Oh well, those back home will appreciate it once it is done.

Perhaps that human knows? Borulama thinks, before looking at the laughing human again and using its slimy, tongue-like feet to get its attention. Its clothing tastes really odd.

Borulama asks the human in a zippy, buzzy accent "HuMAN, Yu Kow Of Te moGUL?"

With no optics feeding into his brain, Giggles was reduced to flinching at the surprise touch, and batted away the tongue (tongue?), staring at the roof and hoping the nonhuman would go away. Sometimes that worked.

"'oldja I can't pay for another night," he mumbled when it didn't. The thing tonguing him didn't feel particularly familiar, anyway, but Giggles could never be sure.

It said something.

Oh, shit, a tourist, thought Giggles, then- Oh shit! A tourist!

Immediately he was sitting bolt upright, awkwardly pivoted towards the Paminian and flashing a salesman's smirk. "Heard you were lookin' for someone? Say no more. I've gotcha. My name is-" his eyes flicked to the spaceport's advertising banners- "Gucci Starbucks, finest tourguide in Frixion, guaranteed. Need something? Seeing someone? Looking for the-" he jerked his head towards nowhere in particular, but in a conspiratorial kind of way- "good stuff? Gucci's your guy."

Giggles slipped off the bench and bowed just a little, spreading his palms, welcoming. Then he grabbed Borulama by the... by the something and dragged him off the bench with a handshake. "I see you're here for some business. Mogul, right?" Giggles had no idea who that was, but the tentacle monkey didn't need to know that. "Sure. I can take you places, anywhere, for a-" he nearly burst out laughing again- "modest fee. What was your name again?"

The human made its expressions as they normally do and appearantly is named Gucci Starbucks. Must have had ancestry in a spaceship pilot family or something. A bit cuaght off guard by the strength of this smaller human, Borulama manages to keep himself in balance as somewhat dirt tasting hand of the human forces him off the bench as the human claims to be a tour guide.

"My name is Borulama" it whirrs, "I am the Auditor of the Network, forget which number of, Auditors come and go."

The auditor pauses for a bit, raising one of its tentacle hands before resuming with a bit of a somber buzz, "That is not important for you to know, what is important is that I seek the Mogul who runs this planet to make a deal with that Mogul to syndicate a reality TV show. You are a tour guide, so you know someone who knows where the mogul is. The mogul is amazingly elusive, for someone who's face you see everywhere."

A holographic advertisement of that very mogul zips by overhead about some new pleasure resort that just opened. After being a bit dazed by the bright distraction, Borulama resumes, "As for cash, I have a bit of that, what price do serve for?"

'Syndicate a reality show' my ass, space 'dillo. What Giggles gathered between the accent was that the nonhuman was on strictly private business, or had been led to believe so. Alone and lost on Frixion Prime, handing out a ludicrous cover story with only a simple grip on the language... Something told Giggles that the Paminian had been set up.

"So that's what you call him, huh?" he said, aloud but softly, watching the holo pass as he thought these thoughts. Yeah, we call him the Fatcat. Good luck chasing that figurehead. Fuckin' corporatist pigs.

Any sympathy he might've had evaporated with the scent of money, though.

"Oh, nothing too pricey, just say four hundred bits for a day tour, but very good value. Wild rides in store, you won't regret a thing." More importantly, it was well under the threshold at which a travelling businessbug might consider siccing private police on him for shoddy service. Only once the money changed hands did Giggles, now Gucci, tactfully start to step around the fact that he didn't know anyone here.

"Humble guide like me's got not exactly the clearest grip on where the hell Fatcat's hidin- I mean, how to contact the Mogul," said Giggles, burying details under a mass of confident babble. "But hey, no stress! This is Frixion, everyone knows everyone and I know a gal who knows a guy, no problem. Here, got a ride? No? Well neither do I, so unless you're keen on paying our way I guess we're going to have the public transport experience, very nice actually..."



Public transport meant that Giggles didn't actually have to direct Borulama anywhere, and could spend a moment researching with his cell to get a sense of where he wanted to be. It also meant that he could apply the optic tubes to his face for a moment while Borulama was admiring the aerial monorail view, which-

Oh, he's armed, frowned Giggles to himself, slipping away his eyesacs and with it the ability to look into Borulama's pockets. Chem delivery rounds, light armour piercing. Could use me some of that. Reality TV, right...

They stopped at a pricier district and Giggles busily led Borulama downtown. He had only a vague idea of where he wanted to be, but that was enough. Nova was a classic place to do business, pretentious and fancy, and some blessed souls at gangspotting dot frx had marked a transhuman leading what could only be a seasoned crew into the bar. Sitting around waiting for the embargo to lift, no doubt.

Giggles led Borulama towards the woman in captain's duds.

"Yo." The salesman act got tiring after a while. Besides, with three eyes, she could probably tell a wily rat from a tourguide. "I'm Giggles, this is Borulama. Guy's got some serious media biz, needs contacts. Don't suppose some tech-spirited spacers like yourself could offer him a little help finding his way, mmm?" His voice lowered. "Diplomat, got deals for the Mogul, probably loaded. Play your cards right and you could get the folks in customs to look the other way while you leave." Then normal tone.

"Whaddya say, Boru? Introduce yourself to the metal lady sometime."

"400 Bits for a day tour? I see they upcharge here too. Things in the galaxy never change, even in over regulated environments like this one. Given the priority is to find someone who knows the Mogul, 400 is a bit much." Borulama. How the hell could this human think it has the quality of service to charge that much for its own personal tour guide services? Who does it think it is a gold member? Come to think of it, where is its seal of quality? Why does it not have its brand with it? Frixion's tour companies must not be competent with their quality control or some such. Maybe worse, this is an employee from some state service! Maybe that explains the ridiculous fee, it's a glorified tax. The Fed is like that.

Maybe not.

For this is less some employee of a company or worse, some monopoly service and more like how the homeless on Saukila in a bad economic time when they start selling their bodies for way more than they are worth. That was at least selling something it knew for certain it would get. That peculiar pricing just comes off as ... weird to it. Still, finding the Mogul is of importance for both the deal and well, the auditor things it now is expected to do alongside this venture. This is both in so many respects. Both a way to spread the soft power of the Network and get new customers for its own company. Yes, that is all this is about. So Borulama decides to give an alternative offer to the orange haired person, perhaps the hair color makes it a bit more trustworthy seeming than it should be. For Borulama has a orange head too. Color transcends species.

So with a bit of sympathy, Borulama gestures one of its tongue filled hands towards the human and gives its own terms and to some extent, to keep this human around longer.

"Since we aren't doing a day tour, how about this instead, 50 bits for initiation fee. Find someone good to help, 150 more bits. Stick around and help find the Mogul, 500 bits extra once we get to the Mogul. I give you options here."

Giggles kept up his smile with something akin to rigor mortis, and tried not to talk through his teeth. He would be living off protein sludge and takeout boxes for the next week anyway, but Borulama's starting rate couldn't convince him to piss down a wall. Even if that were possible.

"Pod fare is sixty," he said. "Work with me. I could find a customer who pays twice that as easy as I could find you your first contact, no? C'mon, boy, I have dogs to feed." That wasn't true, strictly speaking, but Giggles wasn't much more than a stray in a gutter himself. "Gucci's good, though, Gucci understands. Hundred up front, two hundred for each link, and if we ever reach the Mogul..."

Well, that would never happen.

"...We'll see. Say, that's a hundred down from my best offer and a guaranteed catch. Kapiche?"

The pod fare he mentions is again a rip off as he noticed upfront. Seeing that is evidently working class or poor, Borulama's atteanae vibrate a bit as he thinks of something something, making a weird hum as he tells Starbucks "60 bits just to get around I will say was one of the worst things I came across. And the fee just to dock was insane. Just insane. From where I come from you don't get these prices for everything as you don't need a permit to anything back where I am from."

Borulama, tasting the murky floor of the pod is oddly inspired even as some of the more... icky substances make it a bit nauseus.

Borulama looks back at Starbuck and says "You could just say 'I am a tour guide' even if you are not and no one will care if you just do what you say you will do for we don't demand permits for every little thing. Here everything's a looting from the government seeing prices driven up so much. So I feel sorry for orange headed humans like you who must be cash strapped paying forty bits just to get some food."

Looking out one of the pod windows at some of the advertisements, Borulama than notes "No decent biotech industry to drive down the costs of food for the poor either."

Borulama's eyes blink and his pupils elongate as he peers towards Starbuck as he moves one of his tongue arms towards him with a new offer. "Still, I am not one to be a spendthirft so the most I will move up to is 70 bits for the initiation but will give 150 bits for each link as before. And I'll bump it up to 250 if the link is good for finding the Mogul. Huh, speaking of food as tour guide you know of any good places to get a drink? One that isn't a rip off?"

"Sounds good to me, if you're sure he's got enough. How d'ya wanna to play this?" Diana replied in an equally quiet tone, to the ginger boy with the odd name. Maybe she'd ask about that later. Anyway, she got on with the act. Not her forte, but if this came off it could be very good for the fleet, might even get her a promotion. So, speaking up, she said "So you want to talk to the Mogul? Sure, I can give you a hand, if you or your friend can make it worth my time. I'm Diana." seeing no reason to hide her identity. If this went to plan, he'd either be dead or a few thousand lightyears away within 48 hours. "Oh, and a decent place to drink? You're inside one, though whether the prices are fair is your decision. Place this close to the spaceport tends to get a lot of customers that can afford to pay the 25 bits for glitter mixed in the drink, and a name that sounds like some far-flung constellation."

While this was happening, Diana's third eye was looking the two new characters down, thoroughly searching for anything interesting. Both armed. Unsurprising, given what "Giggles" had already told her, and it did help to confirm his story. Not many people use a gun like that, and certainly no one without a reason. Giggles himself was an interesting character as well, though. Probably your average unfortunate piece of street trash, meaning smart enough or tough enough to hold his own (smart enough, in this case, if his plan was anywhere near as decent as Diana hoped it was), and easy to cut ties from if things turn sour. The interesting part was that he may be about to get much, much richer. Diana wondered how he'd react to such an opportunity.

Like many bars, Nova had a VR arcade, and that was where Marco liked to spend his time after a long day at the shop. He'd been spending more and more time there. After his father had been arrested, he'd inherited the store. Unfortunately, while he was a talented weaponsmith, he had no training in running a business. He'd hoped to move offworld and seek his fortune. But the travel ban had put a kibosh on that idea. He was stuck on Frixion prime indefinitely.

He took off his headset, looking around the bar. There seemed to be a whole squad of transhumans. He thought the whole Terminator thing was cool, but the thought of doing it to himself made him nervous. Among the robots was a cute robot, and some sort of bizarre alien, even by galactic standards.

Marco was about to put a few more bits into the machine when he overheard the conversation. They were going to see the Mogul. Now that...That he was interested in. That was the man who had led to his father's incarceration. But he got the impression neither of these people had a plan to meet the Mogul. He, on the other hand, definitely did.

"Death wish, much?" He asked the group, leaning on a table. "If you go to see him armed to the teeth like that you'll get shot." Marco, unlike the others, was seemingly unarmed. He had on a brown bomber jacket over his work outfit, a green jacket and pants. He was armored, like many people who worked in the slums. His hands had a pair of gauntlets, as well as boots, and there was no doubt his clothes were lined with armor plates.

"Marco Valentine. Proprietor of Valentine Armaments." He said to Giggles. Mostly because he seemed to be the one who was running the show. "I happen to be in the market to sell my father's store back to the city. I think that might be able to get you guys an audience with him. No strings attached. 'Cause I'm sweet like that." He glanced over their weapons.

"Of course, if you are planning to do something to him, there'd be a lot of people who would profit from it." He said, taking a sip of his lemonade. "But I'm just an arms dealer, so that's none of my business."

Borulama just was there a bit confused by these other two folk who just shows up in the middle of its deal making. One a metal humanoid the other a yellow haired human in some brown jacket. The transit must have stopped by and transferred them all into Nova at some point since now we are in the middle of some bar talking to a arms dealer. Stranger stuff's happened, must have been the mention of Nova bar that led to the sudden shift of scene.

The human made from garbage can material talks about its time and mentions a 25 bit price, which is how much it should be not some special deal, but it'll do. However, all that goes out of the window when this new human who mentions the huge bounty on the mogul, which for what it is worth, Borulama is aware of. But not having its personal arm would seem just as much suicide, the galaxy's a dangerous place and everyone is trying to kill you, especially as the Auditor by default, even if you haven't actually done any wrong to anyone. Just be the 'wrong' species or of the 'wrong' birth world and people hate you. As Auditor, that is every world as someone on some world hates the world you are from and made some bet to see who can kill you first. Being in the spotlight can do that, thankfully no one here has much knowledge of where Borulama is from.

Still, Borulama felt the need to respond in its own weird way, turning its three eyed head toward Valentine and complementing Valentine on his marktetting pitch for his gun shop with its slurrish, wobbly accent saying "Good business model."

The fact he knew of the wherabouts of the mogul than caught up to Borulama, who after a brief pause continues by saying "I am trying to find this mogul who runs the place to spread some of my videowatch to this sector of the galaxy. The UFP's market is a decent one to have even with their regulatory mess."

Borulama says as it motions its six tendriled right arm towards Nova's 4/7 resturant grade on one of the panels.

A bit odd of a man, an arms dealer who mentions the Mogul's bounties. Probably someone who likes to give guns to people who wanna kill the mogul, which ia a good way to get people to buy your guns. The galaxy's like that, someone does shit thing, someone than wants to kill that guy. If that is the case, it is not really Borulama's problem, just as long as whoever takes the Mogul place makes the deal before they get shot too.

Floor tastes like shit too come to think of it.

"Glitter, huh? Sparkly-ass bourgie dust, fresh from the plastics factory n'..." Giggles muttered on, tilting Diana's glass towards him and squinting into it before dipping a gloved finger in and touching it to his tongue. He shrugged, eyebrows raised amicably. "Not bad, though. I'm sure Borulama here can... Hang on."

Some clearly blue-collar prole who'd been nodding to the corner games finally introduced himself, and Giggles remembered why he preferred nightclubs to bars. Always some adventurer type listening over your shoulder, trying to network.

Borulama gave his introduction as Giggles surreptitiously shouldered Marco and made 'you're messing up my business' motions. He spoke out of the corner of his mouth, trying to sound hushed enough not for Borulama to hear, and distinctly failing. "We're not gonna meet the damn Mogul, come on, I'm tryna hustle-"

Arms dealer?

"Holy hell, you're selling out? Gimmegimmegimme-" Giggles's eyes lit up and he shoved hands and bodies and drinks aside to clear a space on the table muttering something like 'hold up busyboys I got a plinker to lose'. His hand appeared on Marco's wrist as he banged his backpack on the table and started unpacking its contents.

"Listen, are you doing stock clearance? Installments? Loans even? I got twelve hundred credits now, more on the way and I really need an air plasma carbine. Let's see, I got-" Objects started to appear. "Two spike jammers, a language interface, some, I dunno, think those are octane cell batteries, uh, this apple I guess? I got some welding glasses, a metal-printed six-shot, don't look too hard at it I have standards I swear, uh..." He overturned the backpack and watched its contents fall out, all but the FAR-Cat equipment in the hidden compartment.

"Some bolts, a condom, those are dead bugs I'm pretty sure, tin-can bullets, that's from a crack pipe, some Ecetopian waterweed..." He threw his hands up. "So yeah maybe I'm broke right now, but I swear I can help you out."

Marco was well aware of what Giggles was trying to convey. He was beginning to suspect that this gentleman was trying to con the alien. Even though the creature was definitely bizarre in appearance, he didn't think it was right to take advantage of him.

"Marco Valentine never sells out." Marco said, shaking his head to Giggles. Borulama had called it a nice business model, and he had no idea if the alien was being serious or not. "I am selling it though, yes. My father left it to me, but I'm not as good a businessman as he was. And a big chain opened nearby, too." He said, now taking a seat on the table.

"I can hook you up, but I don't have a huge amount of stuff." As Giggles started to put things on the table. Examining the things, he took the condom and put it in his pocket. Then he held up the waterweed. "We can share this while we go through my inventory. Here..." He reached into his pocket, and took out a small handfull of what appeared to be pink bouncy balls.

"Have some grenades. Squeeze them twice and they'll explode when they hit anything. Three times and they explode after bouncing once. And you can squeeze one for three seconds to disarm it." He said, giving them to Giggles. "And it's totally legal, I've got a permit." He said. He reached into a pocket, taking out what looked like another pink bouncy ball. He began to drop it on the ground, then catch it when it bounced back up. He dropped it again, then caught it.

"I've got business with him. I don't care how I meet him, but I need to." Marco said. "I might be able to manage a carbine? I don't know if I have the parts, but if had the cash I could order them and build one for you."

" There. No one would give it a second look. What do you think?" Colin said turning to look at Hound who was patiently waiting behind him. Hound twitched an ear then looked over his shoulder at some far off noise. " Yeah that's what I thought." Colin had hidden his mismatched collection of tools, and the big red box they came in, inside the cracked wall of an abandoned overpass next to the Space Port. He covered the hole in the wall with scraps of metal and junk that were laying nearby. This hiding spot would have to do while the two looked for work. Wiklow was two jumps behind them, Colin and Hound were all the happier for it. Now, the next step of their grand plan was to find work on a ship, anything to keep moving. Colin would apprentice or be head engineer, as long as it was moving and they allowed dogs." Alright well, let's see to getting us fed." Colin set off to the topside of the overpass, Hound quickly snapped to attention and joined him in stride. But then, Hound stopped for a moment. " What's up?" Hound darted back to the metal, raised a leg and pissed on it." Good idea." Colin adjusted his rucksack on his shoulder and the two restarted their trek into the main urban hub of Frixiom Prime.

By Hound's nose, the two found their way to Nova. The bouncer or hostess, with some alien species it's hard to tell attractive from dangerous, stopped them at the threshold." No pets." it barked. Colin took a look inside " You've got what looks like an armadillo, licking the floor in there. He's no pet. Tell her hound." Hound barks out a low volume, quick bark, just flashing his titanium teeth. "Alright but we throw out any patron that pisses on the floor." Hound and Colin turn their noses up and head for the bar. Colin pulls out a stool for Hound, who quickly leaps onto it and sits, as he reaches into his pockets for his SHIPBUDDI. Now that he could access the network, he could post on some job sites for anyone looking for a ship engineer. Though it was a shot in the dark without experience and references. Just as he tapped post, Hound's ears perked up before an announcement came on the speakers.

"We regret to announce that, due to an attack on the planet of Furyk by an unknown force, travel between planets will banned until the purpetrators are captured. Compensation will be paid to those who..."

His heart sank as he reached out to scratch Hound's head, who licked his hand in return." Well Bud, that's gonna throw a wrench in our big plans."

---

Distance was all that mattered. Xavier wasn't stopping for anything and he sure as hell wasn't taking his foot of the accelerator for a little rain. Xavier's eyes stayed glued to the GPS display tracking their position while the world passed in a blur of red and white lights. The nagging voice of the stout man in his backseat was lost under the pounding bass of his own heartbeat. Already his heart rate was accelerating and his mind replayed countless death scenarios on a short loop. With his conscious mind he scolded himself for taking up the life of a criminal and prayed to whatever god that existed in heaven to guide his hand in escaping this gruesome fate.

Yet as Xavier sped through the lightly soaked streets of downtown Frixion City, anticipation of a nervous kind of energy tingled through him like electrical sparks running throughout his body and gathering in his toes. Adrenaline coursed through his system as a fight or flight instinct. But it didn't matter to him, they had to get away.

Xavier hyperventilated as he mashed the accelerator and swerved around another curve. Outside the windshield, a massive expansive of runway rolled on before them and silhouetted behind a curtain of rain an even larger city. Only a few yard away a ship stalled, ready to take off.

"Thank God..." Xavier muttered under his breath as he jammed the black SUV into park.

Just as his life truly depended on it, Xavier stumbled out of the vehicle, slipping repeatedly on the wet concrete as two large men stepped out of the backseat, making way for Xavier's transport.

The man was single handedly fattest person Xavier had ever seen, he could swear he was two full seats on any airline. He lived his life as if to dispel any suggestion that "fat" should be auto-linked to "jolly." He was the most sullen and cynical bastard that ever breathed and Xavier respected him for it. There was an honesty to it. He never sugar coated anything that wasn't edible. If you wanted straight facts he was your go-to guy, for anything else it was just better to stay away.

"The fuck are you gawking at?! Get the transport moving!" The fat man bellowed. Xavier nodded dumbly and stumbled over to the ship. Each breath was like-



There was an enormous explosion. It was as though a fist of orange flame had decided to punch it's way out of the ships hull and throw everyone and everything to the ground. Windows shattered. Smoke and fire rushed out. Thousands of pieces of glass and steel, a deadly rainfall, showered down. Alarms - shrill and deafening- erupted.

Out of this shock Xavier felt himself issuing amid a mass of terrible sensations: the fearful blow of the explosion, the noise of glass, the hoarse howl of people, the rushing of men, the sudden gulf, the awful gulfing whirlpool of horror in the social life. But new sounds suddenly made themselves aware. The deafening crunch of folding metal, the blood-curdling roar of some supernatural source, the voracious cadence of heavy gunfire punching through solid steel, carbon fiber, flesh and sinew. Finally came the scream. The scream tore through Xavier like a great shard of glass. He felt his eyes widen and pulse quicken, his heart thudding like a rock rattling in box. The scream came again, desperate, terrified... human. The blood drained from his face and before he was even aware of making a conscious decision his legs were pounding furiously on the even concrete track, his ears straining for more sounds. He had recognized that voice. The voice the man he respected, the man he worked for.

His breath came in small spurts, hot and nervous. At his sides, tanned fingers curled into sweaty fists, swinging forward as if it would make him faster. Behind him, he could hear the baying howl of the monster that slew everyone and everything in sight. Blood smeared his greasy face as sweat dripped from his matted hair.

"Please God, let me live." he cried aloud, throwing himself forward with even greater abandon. His lungs and heart were pumping, but the air didn't seem to be enough as he sprinted forward, panic trembling in his exhausted limbs.

The boy didn't make it thirty feet before the hulking amalgamation of flesh and metal lept clear of the gap and landed heavily in front of him. At that moment he could feel the sweat drenching his skin, the throbbing of his own eyes, the ringing of his own screams vibrating in his ears, and the thumping of his own hart against his chest. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palm. Hesitantly, his eyes met that of the beast's. It was unblinking and unforgiving, ever-staring into the depths of those who challenged it, bleeding them dry of the will to fight.

The monster was a predator.

Fear tore at Xaviers guts, churning his stomach in tense cramps. Fear engulfed his conscience, knocking all other thoughts aside. Fear overwhelmed his body, making it drastically exhausted. However, most of all, the fear made him calm, and that was what scared him the most.

With one sudden, unceremonial motion, the beast's blade was thrust into Xavier's soft, pudgy flesh, making a satisfying squish and and hiss as the tip of the blade sank deep enough to make him scream. The beast twisted the blade in his hands, all the while sinking it deeper and deeper. His skin was tore to shreds as the energy blade rotated, the sound of his muscles and nerves being severed and burned growing louder. Then, without warning, it jerked it all the way into his chest, until the yellow light had disappeared inside him and out the other end while the black handle was pushing against his broken skin. His cry was a brilliant sound, guttural chokes mixed with an agonized roar. It smirked, and pulled the blade out of the now deathly white victim. He sank to his knees, continuing to scream, convulsing and trembling like a rabid animal while thick blood flowed freely from the gaping hole in his chest. The cascade of the boy's life source gushed out in all directions, scarlet liquid squirting up all over the beast. It turned away as the boy pleas for mercy became quieter and the bitter tang of blood tingled in his nostrils.

The runway was absolute carnage.

What was left of transport burned in the flames of a deadly fire. The SUV had been turned into Swiss Cheese and any survivors had been meticulously slaughtered in a similar fashion. Worst of all was the corpse of fat man. Already mutilated beyond repair, the body was further maimed as the beast off-handily severed the cadaver's head from its body.

Unconstrained, the creature presented the capitulum against the light above his head and juxtaposed it to an image pulled up on a holo-screen projected from his bionic right arm.

A low, harsh growl exited the beast's maw originating from the deep pit that was it's belly. "It's a match." it confirmed, forming a savage grin that betrayed all innocence.

A catch like this would bring in at most two hundred thousand credits. That was at least three years salary for some lunch-bucket. All that was left to do was drop the head off on the lap of the bounty starter, collect his reward, and start after the next one.

Somewhere off in the distance, the sound of a siren could be picked up under the pitter-patter of rain on metal and concrete. By it's calculations, it had about three minutes before the authorities arrived on the scene. The beast growled once more and shoved the bloody head in his military style coat. It was time to make it's get away.

Peerless eyes scanned the airstrip for any form of transportation. Obviously there was. Within a hanger, a jet cruiser sat ready for flight. The beast wasted no time and took to it's cockpit. It's massive hands flew across the console, turning on the battery, activating standby power, switching to auto, setting all four electrical engine control switches to norm, and ensuring that the hydraulic demand pump switches were set to off. Finally, the beast activated the continuous ignition and left the computer to take on the rest of the controls.

Smoothly, the cruiser lifted-off into the air and sped off, leaving behind chaos in it's wake. Inside the cockpit, Mal'akuth Toratall, the Apex Predator, reclined leisurely on a leather seat, resigned to let the computer pilot the jet for a time while he fantasized on what to do next.

Naturally, turning in the day's bounties and reveling in it's victories was what he considered to be next logical step. But the sudden, insatiable urge to celebrate now rather than later overtook Mal'akuth.

The Apex Predator grinned wolfishly and leaned forward to dial in the coordinates of his favorite bar into the console. Nova, a modern-esque bar that came off as hipster rather than new. It was a seedy place where no one asked questions. A rather comfortable stop for the massive alien.

Within minutes Mal'akuth's jet cruiser stalled above the location. He hovered precariously over the threshold of the blast boor. For a moment, he considered landing the plane and instead driving here. But the time it would take for him to commandeer a vehicle and make his way back was unappealing in nature.

Without so much as a second thought, Mal'akuth stepped over the edge and entered free-fall. The cold air rushed past as he accelerated faster and faster. Then after a time he felt like he was floating and not falling at all. But the city grew larger and closer. As if on instinct, Mal'akuth adjusted his body so that he was feet were facing downward. On command, vector vents blowing hot air revealed themselves by the sides of his mechanical legs; dramatically slowing down he decent. A moment later Mal'akuth touched-down, as if he had only been a feather blown to the wind.

The the crowds who witnessed it made acted as if they didn't. Falling or flying though the sky was a common sight in Frixion City. Mal'akuth took a second to compose himself before turning into the bar.

The bar was a den of hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all of them competing with the music that dominated the atmosphere. Along the wall was every hue of amber liquid in their inverted bottles; every vice that Mal'akuth had had rather to avoid but indulged.

Quickly, he found a rather dark corner to seat himself and for a moment, opted to listen to the conversations of those around. His acute ears picked out the keywords of each verbal exchange.

"…course…planning to…something to him…lot of…profit from it...dealer, so…my business…"

"…holy….you're…out..."

"…well…, gonna….a wrench...big plans."

Something was coming. Mal'akuth could deduce that from the words being thrown around bar. And it was something wanted no part of.

Mal'akuth raised a mechanical finger to call a server, and when they did not appear he turned his head slowly to his right to watch her scrubbing the glass of the chiller cabinet.

"Oi!" he called, "How about a drink."

"Yeah, I know," said Giggles softly when Marco explained his situation. The words didn't have much substance, but there was sympathy in his voice. Marco's colourful explosives drew a sharply skeptical squint, though. "Mmmm-mm. Squeeze twice for explosion on impact, huh?" Giggles did so, then abruptly pitched the ball into the corner.

...

"Ohhh," said Giggles, gazing at the ball with sincere respect. It hadn't left his hand. "You flinched. Three seconds to disarm, got it." The inert weapon was put back on the table. It fit right in with the rest of the trash, perfectly innocuous. "Careful who you palm off bombs to, man. Sorry for doubting."

Giggles dragged his arm over the table, sweeping the odds and ends back into his bag. All but the Valentine bombs, which were in his palm again. Sometimes customs didn't expect sleight of hand. "Hey, I'm not gonna take these from you until we slam out an actual deal. No offense, but your head seems a little fuzzy right now. I get it."

And Giggles had good reason to believe that he did, really, get it. He'd been playing a certain game his whole life, and he knew baby steps when he saw them. Of all the people the gunsmith could have found hustling in a bar... Well, funny accidents sometimes happened to Giggles, and he had a feeling Marco Valentine was one of them.

He side-eyed the man with the riot control dog as the intercom blared again. "...Let's take this outside. Legal or not, I'd rather not talk realshit where drunk people can hear." Giggles snapped his fingers once at Borulama, once at Diana. "You, you. Make money happen. And don't forget to tip the middleman."

((Wait so did Giggles take back the condom and drugs?))

As soon as Giggles seemed like h ewas going to throw the ball, Marco moved, lightning-fast, to grab the boy's wrist. He had definitely flinched, that was for sure. He wanted to be mad, but he was smiling, because dammit, the ginger had gotten him good. "D-don't joke like that." He said, his face dusted red as he took the bombs back.

"...Itwasprettyfunnythoughyeah." He murmured under his breath. His eyes followed Giggle's movements. The sleight of hand was impressive, and something he'd always had an interest in himself. "I mean, now I wonder if you have a demolitions license." He said, smiling slightly now. Apparently, he wasn't too offended by Giggles nearly blowing up the ball. Either he was an idiot or incredibly laid-back. He looked over at the dog as he got up. He really wanted to pet it, but now was not the time. He stepped out of the bar.

"Can you really get me to the Mogul?" He asked the ginger as he stepped outside. The guy didn't look like much, but honestly Marco was desperate enough that he'd hear the guy out. His store was going to be sold, and soon he'd be left destitute. It was only a few blocks and one lift ride away. Clealy, Valentine Armaments had seen better days. The sign red "Closed", and the lights were off. That was because Marco was the only employee left. At least it was well-secured. He entered in his code, then pressed his thumb to the screen. The metal door hissed open, and he flicked on the lights. The shelves were mostly bare, with only a few guns left on the shelves.

"Energy weapons aren't really my forte. I'm more a ballistics guy." He said, rubbing the back of his head. The weapons were military grade, and some of them were modified, but otherwise nothing special. There were some gumball machines lining one of the walls. There was a big sign above them that read "BOMBS NOT CANDY DO NOT EAT."

"Licensing," said Giggles somewhere between Nova and the Valentine shop, "is the Devil's business."

The place was a vision of bankruptcy in the making. Even here- Especially here, where the wealthy sprawled over the poor in the most literal of ways- Gentrification took its toll. It must've been nice in its day, thought Giggles over a packet of lead slugs. He wasn't particularly sad about its inevitable passing.

Such things happened. He did his best. That was all he could do.

"Shit, not even a laspistol?" asked Giggles, mostly to himself, the cabinet quite visibly empty. That didn't stop him from laying out a few components, though. He looked up with a screwdriver wedged into a photon pump. "No, man. I got here less than forty-eight hours ago, I don't know the turf. And that doesn't matter, because another forty-eight hours from now I will know the turf and I still won't be able to get you to meet Fatcat."

A faint grunt and the top of the pump popped off. Giggles peeked into the radiochamber and started hooking it to a cell battery. "Let's say Thuit is real, and not just a mask for an AI, or a council of shareholders. Don't you think he's put out a million other shops in the last half hour? The last year? Ten years?" Something sparked around his glove and he put the contraption back down, for now.

"Whether you're tryna appeal to his big heart or shoot him in his alien nutsack, you won't be the first or last and you won't get that far even if you rounded up all the other angry proles in this city and hauled a shit tonne of ass. What do you think police are for? Citizen protection? Pffnah." Giggles slung off his gloves, this place seemed safe enough. "Police are there to be bought and then to protect private capital. I'm sorry, man. I can't fight a whole planet to reach a ghost."

"Right, right, got it." A loose cannon, or, perhaps more accurately, a loose grenade launcher, but at least a smart one. His trick with the grenade was just that: smart, but utterly careless. Though she was hardly strict, Diana, being a captain, generally respected the chain of command and the concept of discipline. Being next to someone who had just been a sweaty palm away from a murderer was definitely a change of pace. Regardless, it seemed she was in with a chance to score big-time, and no mood to miss it.

"Don't know how he found out, but your friend's right. I can get you to the Mogul, but it won't be easy or legal, which means it won't be cheap, either. Plus, you look like you can afford to pay." Diana lied as best she could, thankful to both the difference in species and her own partially artificial composition that would maker her harder to read. She wasn't lying about the last part, though. Between the fancy gun and what Giggles had said, she should be fine. "So with all that in mind, I'm gonna say twelve million bits, cash only, with one third up front so we can trust each other. Something wrong? No? You looked a little shocked then, that's all. Anyway, the price is non-negotiable. Sorry, but I'm not risking my life for nothing, and you won't find someone more reliable within sixty lightyears. Just ask your buddy, he seems pretty smart. Obviously, I'll need some time to prepare, but somehow I doubt you've got twelve million on you anyway. So, if it's a deal, same place in two weeks?"