Pax

"I'll take ya' to my place. Give ya the grand tour. Maybe have a drink."

Pappy's head lowered, the kid would have to sweat it out in a cell, if he wasn't in a jail he wouldn't know where the hell to look. It didn't look good for him, losing a new officer on his first mission. They would demote Pappy for sure for losing the poor kid.

"Alright, fine. Maybe after having a walk it will clear my mind and I can think of something."

On the walk to Dog's place both men were silent.

"The only reason I go to that damn place is because it's so easy to get back to my hole no matter how drunk I am." Pappy chuckled, old Dog never changed.

"Remember that place on Cupid? At the end of the night all the trashed Marines were trying to drag their asses back to the barracks in that pathetic weak gravity. Half of them were passing out in front of the tourists, man that was a fun night."

At Pappy's door they spotted some officers questioning late night pedestrians, more curfew violators.

"I've had enough of this f***ing place, Greg. It's time I left."

Pappy nodded. "There's a whole lot of jungle out there in the galaxy Dog, this asteroid is gonna cramp your style if you settle down for too long, I know your style."

***

"Good. We go together," said Akinlabi definetively.

He exmained the maps and data, his cyborg eye seemed to scan every detail.

"I have been to this place before, it is not pleasant. I am thinking that cloak-and-dagger will suit us more than fists-and-steel. The ports are not kind to strangers."

"As much as I hate this cloak and dagger crap I think you're right buddy, they're bound to be a paranoid bunch and won't want strangers witnessing their illegal activity. Remember to stay low and keep in the shadows."

“The team I’m leading to The Underground will really only need one other member. Either one of ya volunteers or I’ll volunteer one of you. At the moment, you have a choice.” Trin was saying, taking charge as Pappy would have wanted her to.

"Well if im leading the sexy brothel group then I need someone who isn't a virgin, aint **** ugly, knows how to get drunk and get laid, and can work a nightclub," David said, turning towards JJ with a grin.

"Sorry man, I think I should go to the nightclub. With that Voltan guy, he'll be busy with business or pleasure in the brothel probably. And he may be easier to handle if you stick to confined spaces. But if Grieger is as big as he looks, well, no amount of ability is going to protect you from getting hurt if we're compromised. I'll need a change of clothes though..." JJ sounded unsure.

"Can we see some maps of the surrounding areas? We should identify fall-back positions and rendezvous spots around the targets, perhaps safe-houses that you may have near them." JJ asked Specter.

"That's all that I have I'm afraid, and besides this safehouse there are no other 'safe' places for any of us, trust no one but each other. Make sure that no one tracks you here, I may not let you in if I see you with someone else." Something in her tone indicated that she meant every word.

***

Nathan stood in place and wobbled as if he were sick.

"Go on youngin', have a seat and let me play nurse, I swear I know what I'm doing." Lucy was trying to get Nathan to ease up as she sneakily reached for a sedative hypo. Meanwhile officer MaCurdy was chatting with an odd fellow in holding cell A4.

"Just because I don't have the same views as you?" Mort mumbled.

"You think I'm crazy simply because I learned how to live with what you consider scum. I see the only person here who needs a brain check is yourself. Oh....what I was saying, I can't remember," Mort muttered some more.

"I'm afraid you ain't making much sense fella, have you have your meds today? What is your name? What do you remember before coming here?"

 

“I thought you’d know better than the others that I can take care of myself.” She looked quick at his hip she hit earlier and then back to him with a smirk. “And we’re hunting Kennedy at the club, not Grieger. Good job paying attention.” JJ reddened at the comment and bowed his head in shame before asking Specter about the maps.

Jeaysus, I need some stims. Maybe I should go to... the docks was it? Sleep was creeping in at the edges, trying to pull him down. The others had all slept on the transport and Star Fox's ship, but JJ could never get a wink of rest on a ship under way without a regulation bunk and the sound of the current shift of uproarious Marines down the hall. Never felt secure.

"But thanks" He almost whirled around at the whispered words, caught in the surprise, but Specter replied to his question about the maps. JJ took her warning to heart, wondering what botched circumstance may warrant that rule being broken. He glanced at the door to the hallway where Trin had disapeared, wondering if he should follow, but bent over the table to pour over the map of the night club and the surrounding area. He had been set on taking out Boris, not just bugging him, but if a lady wants your help you'd be an idiot to say no. Besides, tall dark and battery powered looked like he could take care of him.

JJ identified several escape routes, tracing from the main door of the club and where other exits might be; something to check when they arrive. Since there were no 'safe' areas, they would have to settle for the next best thing, heavily populated areas like markets and main thoroughfares and small hole-in-the-wall shops. Several shop spaces were labeled on the map, but didn't have the name displayed like they didn't make enough to bother applying to have their name put up. JJ grabbed the paper copy of the map and downloaded a digital copy to his PDD before heading out to the hall to meet with Trin.

"Ready?" I asked.

 

"Sorry man, I think I should go to the nightclub. With that Voltan guy, he'll be busy with business or pleasure in the brothel probably. And he may be easier to handle if you stick to confined spaces. But if Grieger is as big as he looks, well, no amount of ability is going to protect you from getting hurt if we're compromised. I'll need a change of clothes though..."

I sighed and followed Trin and JJ out into the hallway, "So Trin by 'Carter you lead a team to the brothel' you really meant 'Carter slug it alone. Mind the gun toting bad guys. Have fun. Toodles' hehehe, alright alright. I can fly solo ok like. If the **** hits the fan I'll be back at that bar where we started a little trouble." I smiled, and gave them both a thumbs up, "Good luck guys. Flattered that you have so much confidence that I'll stay on track in a house of temptation."

I gave a casual salute and strode away down the corridor, climbing up into the gloomy artificial light that illuminated the rusted city. I switched on my communicator which was snugly concealed in my ear, "Hello? Hello? Testing 1,2,3.... Ok, I think its working... Hey Jerome, Spectre, let me know when you've got that surveillance system up and running. Rest of you, give me constant updates, targets location, activities, how your going, whether you've ****ed up, whatever. I think if we stay in contact we stay alive. Oh and any chance someone could forward me that city map? I forgot it. Aren't we a professional bunch?"

 

Nathan tried to stay in control. The pain in his head was growing, threatening to burst out of his skull. Everything was getting blurry. Nathan concentrated and managed to get back into focus. It was then that he noticed the prisoner down in one of the cells. He and the man that had taken Nathan here were talking. There was obviously some tension between the two...
He looked around, peering through a small barred window. It was dark, after hours. There were no other staff here. If he got past the nurse, he might be able to escape. The man that had brought him seemed to be questioning the prisoner, he would be focused on the guy. The only problem was getting past the nurse. Nathan wouldn't hit a girl, he would have to find a way to get by. He slipped back in the bed and was pulling the blanket up slowly. The nurse was right by the bed, perfect for his plan. Nathan threw the blanket up over the nurse's head and jumped out of the bed, running for the door. On his way out of the room, he slammed the door shut and ran down the hall. A burst of pain spread through Nathan and he lost concentration before falling to the ground right outside the cell that the two men were talking in. About twenty steps away, the policeman turned his head and he and Nathan locked eyes...

 

"As much as I hate this cloak and dagger crap I think you're right buddy, they're bound to be a paranoid bunch and won't want strangers witnessing their illegal activity. Remember to stay low and keep in the shadows."

"We could keep in the shadows," Akinlabi replied, "but me and you, Wolf, we are not real strangers to these parts." He raised his right eyebrow, stressing this last point. "I am certain you can find goods worthy of their black market. Goods a certain individual may find interest in helping us traffic. For certain... 'perks'?"

And if Wolf Star happened to have an exotic supply of recreational drugs, thought Akinlabi, pulling in the bear into a trap would prove more efficient than honey.

 

Trin was sitting on the floor at a slight angle. There was enough light in that spot that she could see what she was working on. Before she would even dream of stepping out of this safe-house, she needed to check her weapons, and disassemble them to make sure they were in working order. While working on one, she heard Carter speaking, apparently to her.

"So Trin by 'Carter you lead a team to the brothel' you really meant 'Carter slug it alone. Mind the gun toting bad guys. Have fun. Toodles' hehehe, alright alright. I can fly solo ok like. If the **** hits the fan I'll be back at that bar where we started a little trouble." I smiled, and gave them both a thumbs up, "Good luck guys. Flattered that you have so much confidence that I'll stay on track in a house of temptation."

Whoever said I had confidence in that? Whatever. She really wasn’t listening to what he said, and was relieved that an ongoing conversation didn’t persist. He instead moved down the hall, to start his mission apparently. Hittin’ her up early hmm?

She continued to work on the first of the pistols when JJ surprised her.

“Ready?”

She dropped a piece from being startled and then looked up. When did you get in here? I am I ready? I suppose I almost am. “No. I’m ready, but you sure aren’t.” She could see the weakened posture and loss of power in his voice. “You haven’t slept. And I attacked you.” She almost sniggered to herself. “Siddown, take a break for a bit. Take a nap.” A tired soldier as her cover if everything fell apart wouldn’t be too useful. She knew her target probably wouldn’t be in the club in the early hours of the morning as it is now. They had some time, and Trin needed some new clothes for the job anyways.

 

"Remember that place on Cupid? At the end of the night all the trashed Marines were trying to drag their asses back to the barracks in that pathetic weak gravity. Half of them were passing out in front of the tourists, man that was a fun night."

Pappy knew damn well Dogface had a rough time on Cupid. The diminutive moon had been Dog's original duty station after basic, and his new unit decided to show him how they unwound after twelve hours of training. It was the fist time he'd ever gotten three sheets in a low grav environment, and it was not a pretty sight. "Still an ass****, I see." Dog smiled as he spoke. His anger over Pappy's earlier conduct had passed; now they were just giving each other s***. "Who the hell thought it was a good idea to allow alcohol on Cupid, anyway?"

At Dog's door they spotted some officers questioning late night pedestrians, more curfew violators.

"I've had enough of this f***ing place, Greg. It's time I left."

"There's a whole lot of jungle out there in the galaxy Dog, this asteroid is gonna cramp your style if you settle down for too long, I know your style."

Dog slid the door open and stepped aside in order to let Pappy through. "I didn't want to stay here this long, but it's hard for someone in my position to travel." Dog followed Pappy into a pristine living area. Those who didn't really know Dogface were always surprised to find he kept his things orderly. "Wipe your feet." Dog had taken off his own boots, and placed them next to a pair of heavy duty work boots. "I can't show my mug on any of the commonwealth planets in this system, includin' most of the moons. And I'm not really a traitor, so I stayed away from Mars." Dogface walked over to a cabinet and pulled a bottle of treacle liquor, along with two glasses, from the shelf. "Blue Hades is great, but I'll take Kentucky bourbon any day." Dog extended a glass to Pappy. "Small settlements on a few moons and asteroids are my only options. That, or turnin' myself in." Dog took a sip from his glass. He paused to relish the complex taste and the lingering finish. He met Pappy's eyes, "I've actually considered it."

 

Jerrome collected the equipment he needed, it turned out that they already had a computer system set up in a small room with half a dozen monitors and mulitple uplink capabilities.

"Hello? Hello? Testing 1,2,3.... Ok, I think its working... Hey Jerome, Spectre, let me know when you've got that surveillance system up and running. Rest of you, give me constant updates, targets location, activities, how your going, whether you've ****ed up, whatever. I think if we stay in contact we stay alive. Oh and any chance someone could forward me that city map? I forgot it. Aren't we a professional bunch?"

"Reading loud and clear people. i have found their network system and am running a brute-force crack. the system is passworded so it will take about 20 to 30 minutes before im in."

 

"I'm afraid you ain't making much sense fella, have you have your meds today? What is your name? What do you remember before coming here?"

Mort scratched at his wound for a moment. It was beginning to burn and itch, he was feeling uncomfortable and it too was feeling uncomfortable. He was afraid and yet he was not. And inside that blank emotionless stare you could possibly look deeper into those eyes to see a soul crying. Or maybe they were simply a soul frightened and lost.

"Mortimer Iah, I live on the streets....homeless...I think that's what you call it," Mort said, "I remember begging, eating what I can, and sleeping where I can. I don't take medication."

Mort couldn't remember much from there. All he could remember was his daily life. His life of begging and scavenging for what he could. Hungry most times, but better other times. Building shelter from anything, hiding in shelter that he could find, and getting himself in trouble because of trespassing laws. But a man needed to sleep somewhere, why is it so wrong?

 

“No. I’m ready, but you sure aren’t. You haven’t slept. And I attacked you. Siddown, take a break for a bit. Take a nap."

I guffawed at the show of concern, but I think we had different things in mind. Regardless, I took a seat beside her with my back to the wall, watching as she worked on her weapons in the dim light. "Not yet, I'll rest before we start. I was asking if you ready to go scout the place out. Plus, I need to stop by a vendor. Neither of us are dressed to get into a club."

The conjured image of Trin dressed in a tiny cocktail dress amused me for a moment. 'Where's she going to hide her firepower I wonder?'

"How should we enter anyway? Workers? Patrons?"

 

OOC: I had to entertain guests for the weekend and I was having computer issues today all damn day, but I'm back now. Let's get posting people. BTW, that bar brawl happened at night and a curfew happened shortly after but if you want you can role-play it as if hours have gone by and it is the next day if you like. Certain characters, like Pappy and Dogface, are stuck in a kind of twilight zone for now, but they don't have to be. Story comes first, and certainly before details, same goes with having fun.

"We could keep in the shadows, but me and you Wolf, we are not real strangers to these parts. I am certain you can find goods worthy of their black market. Goods a certain individual may find interest in helping us traffic. For certain... 'perks'?"

"Hey, that's a damn good idea Akinlabi! Why, on the Baroness I've got a fair share of contraband. Specter did say that she suspected TK had a drug habit. I don't have any of the high end black market favorites, but I have a small pharmacy of legitimate designer drugs. And if he needs somebody to smuggle stuff for him we can offer him a cargo bay on my ship. Let's go to the docks, now we have a plan." Wolf said and looked at his PDD, memorizing a route and then leaving the safehouse with the first waypoint in mind.

***

"Small settlements on a few moons and asteroids are my only options. That, or turnin' myself in. I've actually considered it."

"I see. Well, I can't make any promises but I can definitely put in a good word for you. My new CO seems like a pretty cool guy. It's hard to say, and I really haven't known him that long, but he seems like the type to honor a deal. You're helping us out alot, he should take that into account. You may be of use to use out there, the fleet is always looking for more people. You wouldn't be the only civilian on our trip either, we have a few specialists, you could just be another consultant on the pay roll." Pappy countered and took a modest sip from his glass.

"All I'm saying is, there are other options besides turning yourself in to the wrong gungho types and getting a good ass chewing before going to a military prison."

***

"Mortimer Iah, I live on the streets....homeless...I think that's what you call it," Mort said, "I remember begging, eating what I can, and sleeping where I can. I don't take medication."

MaCurdy was starting to feel bad for the guy. He didn't seem to have mean bone in his body, just another spacer that came washed up on Ceres.

"Well stop picking at that...scar of yours you'll only make it worse, maybe I can get Lucy to take a look at it for you. I know that you don't take meds, but maybe you won't mind some antibiotics or something for the pain." MaCurdy was distracted by the sound of a slamming door. Next door Lucy was wrestling with a blanket over her head and cussing, something about how the kid had alot of moxie. The door to the hall slammed, but the runaway was running out of steam and was on he floor.

MaCurdy approached shaking his head.

"Where the hell do you think you're going? Well, since you have so much energy maybe I should start questioning you next. Get your ass back over there, I've got a nice holding cell for you, it already has someone in there waiting for you and keeping the bench warm." He said, fuming.

"And Lucy, maybe you should look at Mort, he's got---something on his face that needs looked at."

 

Wolf said and looked at his PDD, memorizing a route and then leaving the safehouse with the first waypoint in mind.

(OOC: I am assuming Akinlabi and Wolf picked up some of the drugs and contraband samples from his ship before continuing to the West-side ports.)

Akinlabi was always one step behind his comrade. If Grieger was as devious as Specter briefed them, they should stick close together; that way, at least one back was covered. As they advanced through the small alleys of Piazzi, the African rearranged his hair. He pulled some of his dreadlocks to fall over the destroyed part of his face, obscuring the cybernetic and metal. Still far from looking a whole human again, it rendered him somewhat more inconspicuous. Actually, he mused humorously, he probably looked like a drug dealer that way. He decided he'd purchase a duster on their way to the docks, so he could carry his role even more convincingly.

The streets were slowly coming back to life as the day rose. The curfew had just lifted, and the two men were hoping that this would be the best time for smugglers to get up-to-date on new wares, vend, purchase and contract cargo ships for their contraband.

Some minutes later, a few credits less and one new duster coat which almost fit Akinlabi perfectly but for a discomforting tightness at his shoulders, they crossed the Old Piazza (which was eventless, to their relief) and reached the West-side Aeorospace ports. Two dirty-clothed, unhealthy-looking men were standing around a large wooden crate, a short distance away; they eyed Wolf and Akinlabi suspiciously. Akinlabi responded with a confident grin, and the two seemed to relax, then returned to discuss their business quietly.

"Wolf, now would be a good time for you to watch my back," Akinlabi said the last two words with a heavy emphasis. He motioned his head in the direction of his friend's hip, where the MEM gun was holstered, concealed. "Bait and hunter," Akinlabi smiled, winked mischievously, and turned toward the pair of men.

"I'm tellin' you man," one whispered to the other, "snuff box bent us over with his latest sh*t. Said it'll last for five flashes, but it just didn't." The junky was shaking nervously as he spoke, constantly pushing away strands of straw-blond hair that got into his eyes.

His friend smirked. "I bet you discharged the whole nine yards as you went void. You kinda lose control when you do dude." He suddenly jerked his head, noticing the strong African very close to them.

"Hello," Akinlabi said simply. He had his hands in his pockets. He barely moved, standing at the third corner of the crate, opposite the two man.

"What'd'ye want spook?" The man with the yellow hair shot at him, a tinge of fear hidden in his voice. "Bugger off, we're conducting a chat, me and me pal here." He was raising a hand to shoo the intruder on their conversation away, but was stopped by his friend, grabbing his arm.

"Relax Zee, he just said hello," the other man tried a calmer approach, still holding the agitated Zee at bay. He turned toward Akinlabi, eying him thoroughly. "Now, what is it that you want, stranger?"

Akinlabi's voice was a quiet bass. "I was hoping to learn what it was that you wanted," he raised his right eyebrow slyly. He placed a hand on the crate, palm down, cupping a small object hidden from sight. "Your friend appears to be needing."

The two exchanged glances. Zee was shaking excitedly, eying Akinlabi's hand, then his face. The black man didn't look like a law enforcer, and Zee was truly in need of another fix. His Blank Orchid flasher failed to supply the five days of bliss it was supposed to, whether by his fault or the dealer's. He needed another fix.

Zee tried to smile, exposing bad mouth hygiene. "What you got under your large hand there, ey?"

(OOC: I'll continue this in another post, somewhat later)

 

"Well stop picking at that...scar of yours you'll only make it worse, maybe I can get Lucy to take a look at it for you. I know that you don't take meds, but maybe you won't mind some antibiotics or something for the pain."

Mort stared at the man again. His stare was as daunting as ever before, blank and emotionless. And yet his soul inside stirred with emotions. Mort placed his hand down and as he realized the man was looking at his face he placed his hood over his head as if he could cover it up.

"When flesh meats fire, fire burns flesh and nerve," Mort said quietly, "When never is burned, never will always feel something. Nerve will always be number. It will no longer work the same. No matter the amount of drugs you overdose it still occurs the pain."

Mort looked down at the feet and he heard the commotion outside. He wasn't the least bit curious, more or less he just wasn't a big fan of large crowds even if it didn't seem that large to most.
He had a sudden memory or maybe a slight flash of birds and soft hands placing gentle hands on his face. The first person who wasn't disturbed by what they saw.

"Ointment," Mort said, "Could I have some ointment?"

 

"Where the hell do you think you're going? Well, since you have so much energy maybe I should start questioning you next. Get your ass back over there, I've got a nice holding cell for you, it already has someone in there waiting for you and keeping the bench warm."

Nathan eyed the officer. If he ran now, he might make it... No. He had already made that mistake, his best chance was to wait. Maybe he'd get out another way... The officer picked him up and threw him in to a cold cell. In the cell next to him a small guy sat and watched the whole situation, emotionless. He had bright white hair and seemed shy. The guy slowly turned his head as Nathan walked over to the bench, finally, Nathan saw the other side of his face, or what was left of it. The small guy lifted a hand to scratch at a large scar running down his face.

"And Lucy, maybe you should look at Mort, he's got---something on his face that needs looked at."

Lucy, the nurse who he'd tried to escape from, walked into the hall. Nathan turned his head to the floor, trying not to meet anyone's eyes. The small guy, Mort looked down as well while Lucy checked out his scar. Nathan knew time was running out. His team could be in danger right now, they could be leaving, believing he was dead. Nathan heard heavy footsteps and a hand pushed his chin up, forcing Nathan to look into the dark eyes of the officer. Nathan scanned his eyes, looking for emotion. The officer didn't want to show it, he just wanted to get his job done, but Nathan could see a slight bit of emotion in the man's face. He had a kind part of him, but in a job like this, the officer wouldn't get to show it much. Nathan turned his head away from him, hoping he would just be left alone, but he knew the officer would have questions. Questions he couldn't answer. He was undercover, if he truthfully answered these questions, he would ruin the whole team's cover. Nathan knew that if he didn't answer the questions, pretended not to know the answers, he would probably come off as a drug addict. The sickness didn't help with that easier. The laws in this part of space were tough on drugs, yet this rock had one of the highest percent of users. If he was suspected of taking drugs, Nathan would be in here for likely his whole life which, knowing the death penalty being popular around here, probably wouldn't be very long. He had to choose between his whole team or himself. Nathan waited for the questions and hoped he'd be able to prove himself innocent...

 

One day out from Ceres, Jesca began a series of course changes that would make it difficult for another vessel to follow her without he detecting it. A sealed provisional claim was well and good, but it didn't deter all would-be claim jumpers.

 

Less than an hour after the bar fight.

The vehicle’s engine growled as it approached. The car had a husky body, giving off a sheen from the polished obsidian paint job as it parked cleanly. Two other vehicles, patrol cars, were already awaiting at the destination, lights spinning and casting their dual colored glares across the street and neighboring buildings. A figure stepped out of the vehicle.

Staring above the heads of a couple of loiterers and a police officer was the name “Hun Tavern”, etched into a hardwood sign. This was the place. He started towards the door, only to be abruptly halted by the single officer who was shouting at the grumpy, half-drunken miners and guns for hire who decided to wander not very far from their source of alcohol.

“I won’t repeat myself. Curfew is in place, so haul your asses out of here,” the officer said, the small crowd dispersed, mumbling curses under their breaths. Upon seeing him, the officer eyed him with a look of what seemed like contempt. The cops hand hovered over his baton, he piped up again.

“Look, I’m not giving anyone special privileges, no more drinks toni-“
“I’m not here for that.” The man said, the cop flinched for a brief moment as he saw the man put a hand in his overcoat. He pulled out a golden badge.

“Detective Oliver Davis, ” He said, “I’ll be taking care of things from here.”

 

Inside the Hun Tavern wasn’t very surprising to Oliver, a bartender cleaning mugs behind a counter, a waitress poking a sleeping man with a broom, who evidently had one too many shots of Four Horsemen. He surveyed the scene carefully, noticing the shabby clean up job the employees had done. There were still shards of glass that littered the floor, and one chair had the backrest completely removed from the seat and legs. He glanced at it curiously, and then strode over to the counter. The bartender threw a nervous glance at his direction.

“Need somethin’?”
“Just a few questions, please. I’m sure you won’t mind.”
“Sure, I guess.” The bartender replied, shuffling uncomfortably. “Don’t you want to take a seat?” he said, gesturing to the wooden stools that lined the counter.

Oliver smiled, “I won’t be very long.”

The detective thought for a moment. Organ thieves aren’t subtle when it comes to taking their victims, perhaps they were here and snagged someone during a bar fight. No, too great an assumption, he would see what the bartender knew.

“Quite the mess. Must have been a pretty miffed drunk eh?” the detective said, knowing well that one man couldn’t have caused all the damage. He would see how much the bartender would spill unwittingly.
“You’d be surprised, it was a lass who started the whole riot!” the bartender exclaimed.
“Oh?”
“Yea, tried to snuff out a guy with a bottle, then the whole place fired up,” he continued. “A group of tourists were here and they got caught up in the throwdown.”

Oliver looked upward to the ceiling. The bartender thought it was random, until he saw the detectives’ green eyes narrow. He was concentrating. Then he pulled up a wooden stool and stood on top of it, using his index finger and thumb he picked at the roof, then slowly lowered himself again.

“You give your employee’s weapons permits?” Oliver asked.

What the hell is this guy getting at? The bartender thought.

“No, my bouncers can handle what the Hun throws their way.”

“Clearly.” Oliver replied, he showed the bartender what he had taken from the roof, in his palm.

It was a small metal thing, black and shriveled. The bartender raised an eyebrow. The detective turned it in his hand deftly.

“It’s a bullet. Small caliber, and from the looks of it, a Mercurian round, or at least a cheap version.” He concluded. There were two bullet holes in the ceiling, which meant that it wasn’t a misfire and whoever shot it, only intended to be made the center of attention. Detective Davis slipped the ammunition into a small plastic bag for evidence.

“That would be all for tonight. Mind a freebie, before I go?” Oliver said, pointing to the impressive rack of bottles.
“Not a problem, on the house. Whaddya havin’?”

“Blue Hades, Thank you.” he responded, taking the cup of sapphire liquor outside of the bar with him, back to his car. The headlights flashed as he turned it on, and he gunned the pedal, leaving a wispy fog where his tires left a burnout.

 

On the way to the Brothel I passed a small police station. Normaly all a cop station would warrant is more hurried steps, but I heard a commotion inside, and out of foolish curiosity peeked through one of the barred windows. When I saw who sat inside, I let out a chiding sigh, mingled with relief. I keyed my communicator, "Nathan located. Police station. I'll handle it." I walked to the front entrance of the police station. I had to argue with the security guard at the metal detector who insisted on confiscating my weapons. Eventually I resignedly handed him my pistol, and chuckled at his stunned face when I also relinuished my 3 part assault rifle, clips of ammo, combat knife, and hand grenade. I walked past the entrance security checkpoint, to the reception desk. I smiled at the bored chubby male officer opposite me, "I'm here for Nathan. Young guy, probably scared to death. Arrested last night."

The man sighed heavily, and fixed me with a look that suggested I was the cause of all his problems, "Visitors are not authorised without filling out the proper paper work." He slammed a hefty stack of papers inches thick on the desk between us. I jumped at the sound, which would have sealed my fate as a paper pusher for the next hour had I not been so impatient. 'Oh **** it,' I thought. I flashed my I.D, "I'm Recon Team Leader Carter with the UEAF. Im a forerunner for the Athena thats docking in a few days," I lied, "Your holding one of my team captive which is in direct violation of code 339 subsection A of the UEAF Galactic Peace keeping Order. This is punishable by public flogging followed by permanent incarceration. And possibly a death sentence, if I get bored." I grinned nastily. It was all total bollocks of course, but I spoke with such confidence, and my I.D was legitimately fleet, so the gaping policeman waved me down a hallway lined with cells. Eventually I reached one with a tired officer talking to the cells three inhabitants. One was a pale man with a hideous scar marring his otherwise handsome face. The second was a pretty young lady who seemed to be inspecting the two inmates. The third person was Nathan. I waved at him.

"Hello Nathan. I turn my back for five minutes... Ah well, there are worse places to be I suppose," I winked at the nurse, then turned to the standing officer, "Hello officer. Im Carter, and I'm here to bail my friend out. Fleet business. Top priority."

 

Nathan was preparing himself for the questions when he heard new footsteps.

"Hello Nathan. I turn my back for five minutes... Ah well, there are worse places to be I suppose," said a familiar voice. But... it couldn't be...
Nathan looked up. "Hello officer. Im Carter, and I'm here to bail my friend out. Fleet business. Top priority."

Nathan had hope. There was a possibility of getting out of here! His joy turned to guilt, however, when he noticed Mort in the cell next to him. The poor guy sat there, staring at the floor emotionless, a drop of blood leaving the scar he so often scratched. This guy had no home, probably no family, nothing. He would either be let out and rot on the streets, or rot in here. He had barely spoken a word since Nathan got here, hopefully, he wouldn't say anything now...

"Sir!" Nathan put up an act of Carter being his boss. The less MaCurdy knew about them, the better. "What about Mort? He's here as well!"
Nathan tried to give Carter a go along with it look. He turned to MaCurdy an tried to explain. "The three of us have been on an undercover mission. We've been trying to look for drug traders all around this system. The three of us got separated in a raid on a drug ship which led to a fight, that's how Mort got the scar. After the fight, Carter and I discovered Mort was missing. I guess he'd been taken by one of the druggies on board another ship. We landed on the closest living area to search for him, but were split up in a bar fight last night. Mort told you he was homeless because of our cover stories."
Nathan turned to Carter and gave him the look again. He hoped this story would hold up. "Officer, I know this looks bad, especially with Mort and I not having our badges, but you need to let us out. Please..."

 

Mort had been watching the situation from a completely detached point of view. He hadn't heard much of what was being said, but he didn't want the nurse to touch his face. In fact he didn't want anyone to look at his face. He pulled his hood over his face even tighter this time to make sure no one could look at him. Almost like a lost innocent child.

"The three of us have been on an undercover mission. We've been trying to look for drug traders all around this system. The three of us got separated in a raid on a drug ship which led to a fight, that's how Mort got the scar. After the fight, Carter and I discovered Mort was missing. I guess he'd been taken by one of the druggies on board another ship. We landed on the closest living area to search for him, but were split up in a bar fight last night. Mort told you he was homeless because of our cover stories."

The long winded story penetrated Mort's senses. Simply because no one, but himself called himself Mort. His name was Mortimer, no one was allowed to call him Mort. No one was allowed to be that close. Mortimer walked slightly away from the man called Nathan distancing himself from the story and it's reality.

"I don't remember any of that," Mort mumbled and scratched his head.

Then it began to sink into his mind more. That's how he got the scar, that's how he got the scar. Fire licked at the floorboards and the base of the building. People were running around in panic. He was alive, but only in pain as if frozen. He couldn't move and they couldn't see him. The heat was intense.


"There was only fire, just fire. It burned and seared flesh. The smell of yourself cooking," Mort said almost as if he were in some remembering trance, "No knife has ever been near my face."

And like a soldier suffering from PTSD Mort snapped back into reality. Mort stared at them blankly with his odd, wide, emotionless stare. He pulled his hood to his left side again and continued to stare.

"What are we doing?" Mort asked.

 

Nathan continued pleading with the officer. Mort's random sentences weren't helping either.

"I don't remember any of that," he had said.

"Crap. I hope that scar hasn't done anything to your head buddy."

"There was only fire, just fire. It burned and seared flesh. The smell of yourself cooking," Mort said almost as if he were in some remembering trance, "No knife has ever been near my face."

This was a bit better, thought Nathan. "Right buddy, it's coming back to you now. Can you remember who took you?" Nathan was stalling for time, trying to keep Mort on the situation while Carter figured out what was happening and MaCurdy decided what to believe.

"What are we doing?" Mort asked.

Nathan gave up and turned back to MaCurdy, hoping for a good answer, expecting a bad.

 

"Right buddy, it's coming back to you now. Can you remember who took you?"

Mort stared at Nathan for several minutes, the young man was trying his hardest to get something. Mort was truly unaware of his intentions at the moment, actually he didn't really care. At least there was no rain.

"The only person who took me anywhere," Mort began, "Was the ice cream man. It was hot in the summer and I wanted ice cream, but had no money. So I made a sad face and then he let me in."

Mort stared at the floor and scowled.

"Oh...wait...that wasn't what I wanted to say," Mort paused, "I can't remember."

Mort continued to stare at the floor for a second. And he was beginning to scratch at his burn again. He took a moment and then he finally walked over to Nathan and stuck out his hand.

"Hi, my name is Mortimer Iah, it's nice to meet you," Mort paused, "I think this is what you're suppose to do when you meet someone new."

 

"The only person who took me anywhere," Mort began, "Was the ice cream man. It was hot in the summer and I wanted ice cream, but had no money. So I made a sad face and then he let me in."

What was this kid talking about? Nathan had no clue where the kid really got the scar, but he wondered if a nice bang to the head came with it.

"Oh...wait...that wasn't what I wanted to say," Mort paused, "I can't remember."

This wasn't turning out well. MaCurdy was getting less and less convinced by the minute. Carter would think Nathan was an idiot for trying to get this guy out.

"Hi, my name is Mortimer Iah, it's nice to meet you," Mort paused, "I think this is what you're suppose to do when you meet someone new."

Nathan sighed and sank his head.

 

I sighed and turned to Macurdy, "Nathan's one of mine. As for Mortimer, I've never seen him before. It seems that Nathan's taken a liking to him and wants to get him out." I pointed at the two cellmates, "You look like a hardworking man. All this crap is out of your area. Let my man go, he didn't really do anything wrong did he? And why not let this crazy come too? I have a psychiatrist on my team. She's dealt with worse than this guy. And all this will go away. Like a butterfly, flutter flutter. Do you have butterflies on this planet?"

 

When people are desperate, they are much more inclined to believe what they hope to be true. And so, the weak who have grown to depend on chemicals to preserve their reality chose to believe the previously unseen African was in fact, a dealer. True, he did not act exactly like one, somewhat lacking the flair to gain more from their obsession; he only sold small amounts of legitimate designer drugs (not very exciting stuff, but at least you could rely on them), and never enclosed his contact information for future transactions. An odd dealer, but drugs were drugs.

Akinlabi spent the early hours of the morning like a fleeting shadow; unseen, he would suddenly appear next to those in need, subtly offering them a sample of his addictive merchandise, then vanish again. Quickly, shadow bred a rumor, and the black man's steps were preceded by circulating talk about a new 'player' in the district. And so, Akinlabi was not surprised when he was approached by someone, who unlike the others, was not bound by an addiction, but prospered through it.

Frank Stellar was renown in West-side for his wares and his large ring of customers. Rumored to be the colony's very first illegal supplier of pharmaceuticals, profiting from those in true need, he had a knack for creating addictions. And Frank's personal addiction, was being in control. When he heard of the tall man encroaching on his business, he had to find that man, to settle the 'misunderstanding'.

Akinlabi was waiting in the Rock Bottom bar, idly sipping a hot beverage which the bartender claimed to be ground coffee, yet tasted like black slop of some kind. The place was dark, and Akinlabi's appearance seemed even darker, sitting at the shadiest corner of the room. When another man took the seat opposite him, uninvited, Akinlabi didn't seem to mind, almost ignoring the new presence.

"Do you know who I am?" asked Frank Stellar, his voice lifeless and menacing. He was accompanied by a large brute of a man, standing over his right shoulder, blocking any attempt of Akinlabi to leave. Yet the African did not budge, taking another sip of the foul-tasting drink, still not raising his head to the newcomer. Frank tapped his fingers on the table slowly, "You may not be asked this again..." It was a warning.

"No," came the reply, the accent clearly audible, even in such short a reply. He placed the half-empty cup on the table, and lifted his head to sharply inspected the man in front of him. The experienced dealer was not young. His face was marred by scars and wrinkles, turning it into an ugly thing. With a pair of evil-looking small eyes, a piercing nose, tight lips and sparse gray hair, Frank Stellar was exceptionally unsettling to meet eye-to-eye. But Akinlabi looked him in the eyes, then continued, "I do not know. But, I can guess." There wasn't the slightest tinge of fright, or even worry in the African's voice.

Frank was dismayed. The black man was acting oddly, unlike others. With his thick dreadlocks covering half his face, his expression was hard to read, and Frank liked reading fear in his business opponents. He cleared his voice, while still tapping on the table slowly. "Then, you may guess how this conversation is bound to continue." He paused, stopped tapping, then signaled to his brutish guard to proceed.

The bulky man grunted, then took a step toward Akinlabi. He shot an arm thick as a pillar at him, aiming to catch the man by his collar. But he never got that far. The brute's hand midway, Akinlabi already reacted. His own hand snaked below his enemy's, going for the sternum. He grasped at his enemy tightly, and still unsuspecting, pulled him into the table below. The guard did not expect this. Unbalanced, his head came crashing into the cup of hot fluid, shattering it. Frank barely blinked when the man facing him rose to his feet. Using both hands like a heavy club, the African fists came crushing over the guard's back. There was a loud crack as the table gave way, and man and wood crashed in a heap and shatter onto the pub's dirty floor.

Akinlabi sat back at his chair. Opposite him Frank's jaw dropped, but there was no longer a table between the two. The guard grunted into unconsciousness; the rest of the pub raised their eyes toward the commotion, then quickly returned to their own affairs.

"You misunderstood me," said the black man, "I do not wish to fight." There was a long pause, while Frank, perplex, attempted to asses the strange opponent. "I am here for business," Akinlabi reached inside his coat. The drug dealer tensed, but Akinlabi only revealed a clenched fist from inside his garment. Upturning his hand, he opened his palm to reveal a small quantity of diamonds, each twinkling like a miniature star. Frank Stellar gasped. "Would you know anyone who would buy diamonds? Many lots of diamonds."