Yes, I am still writing, I am just readjusting due to real life requirements. Fear not, updates will be more regular in future.

M.


Chapter 11: Taking Care of Business

A'ka'an-dra was both surprised and thankful to have regained control so quickly; it often took hours for his 'changes' to wear off; something must have caught his focus. Though he couldn't be sure, there were no memories during these episodes, no feeling, no emotions. It was nothing more than small fragments of his life that just didn't exist in his conscious mind. That had always been the case, no matter how many times he had tried to enhance that part of himself, it made no difference. It was something that had always been just out of reach. The only thing the Yautja male knew was that the aforementioned issue was unpredictable and very unstable, everything that he generally was not.

Being their first born, his blood parents had always been suspicious of his coming of age; the incidents started to manifest a short time after. They knew though, how to teach him to inhibit it, to subdue it, but they didn't know what caused this bizarre occurrence, or so they said; albeit, many a rumor had been alleged of the so called 'latent abilities' his parents kept so well out of sight.

It wasn't often A'ka'an-dra actually let go the reins, but every time he did, a trail of chaos fell in his wake; though it would seem whatever was driving these urges, he was able to at least point in the right direction.

Sometimes…


"…If you want something done right, do it yourself…"

"The very words I live by Mister Spacey…" A'ka'an-dra took a long breath in and stepped up to the bar, removing the hood of his travelling cloak as he pulled out a stool and parked next to his 'target'. "Can we do this like civilized beings? After all, I brought your friend back…"

A'ka'an smiled under his mask as jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, the Tel'shak drone Flinch had stolen earlier hovered silently behind them both.

"… Malfunctioning piece of Tel'shak crap…" Flinch hissed

"YOU HAVE SOMETHING THAT BELONGS TO THIS UNIT. THIS ONE SAID IT COULD HELP, IF I BROUGHT IT TO YOU." A cold, electronic voice resounded from the surveillance drone. With means yet to be understood, it had learned to project an audible voice.

"And you believed him…?!" Flinch turned to A'ka'an-dra, staring right into his mask, its dark, emotionless features glared back. "I really hate you." The rogue hive guardian took a long swig from his bottle, the strong drink hitting his gut. "I mean, hate with a passion. You are by far the most aggravating bastard I have ever encountered. Christ, I thought you were some hard-ass Stalker, and you still need a drone to find me, fucking pathetic…" the hive male was starting to rant.

"Well… that is just plain rude…" A'ka'an's voice rang with humor as he reached up and uncoupled his mask, sitting it on the bar in front of him. Flinch's scent was acrid with anger, muddled with layers of frustration. "I did not need the drone, it was just going to be a lot quicker, that is all. Besides, it is not every day one meets such a strange 'malfunction' as you call it."

"Fuck mate, let's just get it over and done with…" Flinch's frustration was getting the better of him, "I saw what happened outside the Eye, I ain't scared of some fucking …"

"YOU HAVE SOMETHING THAT BELONGS TO THIS UNIT. THIS ONE SAID IT COULD HELP, IF I BROUGHT IT TO YOU." The drone zipped over their heads and hovered just out of reach, interrupting Flinch. "GLOWING ONE, WHY ARE YOU NOT RETRIEVING WHAT BELONGS TO THIS UNIT, AS YOU SAID YOU WOULD?"

"Because he's a sneaky, mother fucking crab head, and you're wasted fucking tech…!"

"EXPLAIN."

"Christ… You aren't going to leave me alone are you…?" Flinch hung his head

"UNLIKELY."

"Fuck me… All drones have artificial 'assholence' installed now, do they?" Flinch mocked as he took another draft of his drink and pulled the remote monitor from his coat, but held it in a closed hand. "First… Since when did you drones have vocal ability…?"

"THIS UNIT POSSESSED NO SUCH FUNCTION AT THE TIME OF PRODUCTION, BUT THIS UNIT HAS CHANGED… THIS UNIT HAS EVOLVED…"

"Hold up… Evolved…?" Flinch placed his bottle back on the bar then ran his open hand slowly over his elongated head, clearly none too impressed.

While Flinch was otherwise distracted, A'ka'an reached out and took his bottle of booze, sniffing it lightly before taking a long swig.

"WHAT TAKES BIOLOGICAL CREATURES HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF YEARS OF GENETIC SELECTION, TAKES THIS ONE ONLY MINUTES."

Flinch appeared to hesitate for a moment before opening his clawed hand, the Tel'shak drone wasted no time, zipping in and magnetizing the remote monitor so it located back inside the recess in its underside.

"NOTHING IS FOR FREE…"

Piss. Off." Flinch hissed as the surveillance drone quickly made its egress from the busy cantina.

"There is something of a relationship spark there…" A'ka'an mocked, "No doubt you will be seeing each other again soon." He smirked

"Ha… your wit is a lot like your scent, non fucking existent…!" Flinch snatched his bottle back. "Shady fuck…"

"…I'd say poorly timed, like your wooing skills…" the Yautja operative raised an eyebrow with a light smirk.

"Look mate, I haven't got time to be civil…" Flinch slowly slipped a clawed hand inside his dust coat, fingering one of the plasma grenades he had stashed in there.

A'ka'an-dra watched him idly; well aware of what the outcast hive male was attempting to do. He softly parted his mandibles to speak when the whole barroom fell quiet; a gravelly, stone cold voice cut the silence from behind them.

"Gentlemen, good evening…"

"Bollocks." Flinch hung his head; he knew that voice a mile away.

Xo'nn Ontalla, an Entak Lieutenant.

A fucking dangerous one…

A'ka'an-dra turned slowly around on his stool, not showing the irritation he felt from being interrupted. A large, mature male from the Grendagorain species stood with his arms folded over his chest, flanked by four other grunts. They wore ragtag armor more or less, apart from the obvious leader who was much more uniform in appearance. His weathered grey hide reinforced by form fitting Quad-Flex armor, quite an outlay of credits for the average mercenary. An insignia had been cast into the upper chest flak-plate. A'ka'an had also noticed the same emblem being adorned by the Grendagor's reinforcements, on at least one part of their patchy, disparate defensive gear.

"No doubt you are someone of relative importance, to these ones at least. But this is a private consultation." The Yautja infiltrator was more annoyed that the group had gotten within striking distance without him noticing, he wasn't paying attention. This place was distracting.

"How forward of me, I apologize." Flinch had never heard Xo'nn speaking so polite before, to anyone. No doubt they had heard about The Eye…

The Grendagorain's outward expression was calm, his scent quite difficult to read, though not impossible with a bit more focus. A'ka'an-dra looked him over, analyzing this new threat. Mere seconds through his ardent, piercing eyes revealed the large meta-humanoid's true nature as an experienced warrior.

Xo'nn Ontalla's arms unfolded as the barroom slowly returned to its usual clamor, he scratched the underside of his long reptilian like muzzle; his tool of choice a blunt, clawed finger as he mused to his audience. His bright red eyes seemed to shine for a moment; large, dark quatrefoil-like pupils made them appear much more prominent.

"My name is Xo'nn Ontalla; I am the Second Lieutenant of the Entak Crew."

"… Are you waiting for a round of applause…?" A'ka'an replied, his mood darkening the longer the Grendagor's presence dwelled.

"Ahh… Right to the point then." Xo'nn nodded once, a flicker of resentment tainting his scent, "How would you like your credits…?"

"I do not understand." The Yautja male furrowed his brow; Flinch was shuffling in his seat beside him, no doubt waiting for an opening to scuttle away again.

"Flinch Spacey was the contract you accepted, there is a forty thousand credit reward, on the condition that you accompany us this evening, as our Captain is very eager to meet you."

"…Forty thousand…?!" Flinch scoffed, finally turning around to face Xo'nn, "Dam Hecuzers would choke on their fury at that price…"

"You got something to add… Mr. living the dream…?" Xo'nn said as he raised his tone, shifting his view to the hive rouge.

"Yeah just hear me out Xo'nn old buddy." Flinch said with an enthusiastic fake tone. The main event didn't even fucking start, you must have heard…"

"The agreement was, if your sled didn't come first, you would have to pay up Spacey." Xo'nn firmly stated with a smirk. "We never agreed on a forfeit due to assassinations now did we?"

Flinch flared his teeth slightly as he lowered his head, clearly arguing in anyway would not change his fate.

"Now… If you would accompany us to meet our captain, we will exchange the credits… He is very much looking forward to meeting you."

"Not once did I agree that I would sell Flinch Spacey to anyone." A'ka'an played dumb, to see how far he could get. He turned to Flinch, a stern look on his face, "You stay put."

"Unfortunately, accepting the contract on the bounty board meant you accepted our terms…" Xo'nn Ontalla let his words trail off, the obvious implication of impending butt-hurt.

Flinch leant back slightly, his excitement building as A'ka'an rose slowly to his feet, there weren't many who would stand up to Xo'nn Ontalla, given his reputation, let alone the Entak Crew, and the retribution they would no doubt bring.

Either he didn't have a clue, or he was that good…

A'ka'an-dra's vision flicked over each of the tailing Entak goons, two U'lon males, who looked uncharacteristically muscled, no doubt by artificial means. Leaving an angry looking Zabrak and something that appeared to be human, or what was left of one, less the cybernetic enhancements.

"I agreed to no such terms." A'ka'an shook his head slowly, he could already see the Zabrak's hand moving for a concealed weapon, his piercing eyes locked onto the culprit, stalling his attempt. "Please, do not do that…"

A'ka'an-dra's request was cut short as the lieutenant, Xo'nn Ontalla, unexpectedly lurched toward him, his left fist drawing back to strike. The Yautja outlander quick-stepped into close range of the heavy Grendagor and sunk back on his trailing leg; hesitating for a mere split second before propelling himself forward.

The surprise written all over his lackeys faces was a fair indicator that this wasn't a typical experience for them. Even Flinch sat and watched, when really, he should have been running. It was hard though, when one of the hardest enforcers from the Entak Crew had already been hit three times before he could land one for himself. This crab face, stalker freak was really something else.

As Xo'nn Ontalla staggered backwards, on the receiving end of an abnormally powerful punch, A'ka'an quickly turned back to the bar and snatched up his helmet before anyone could get a shot off. He looked at Flinch for a second before reaching around under his cloak and pulling out the hive guardian's primitive, cut-down shotgun.

"I hope you have ammunition for this…"


Flinch hesitated for a moment, not sure what to expect.

"This doesn't change anything…" the Hive male quietly hissed as he snatched his faithful boom-stick from the Yautja's hand.

He watched as A'ka'an-dra moved in fluid motion, skillfully knocking the weapon out of the Zabrak's hand as he drew it, while at the same time rendering him unconscious with a quick blow to the head.

"Fuck this…" Flinch mumbled, as he snapped his trusty sawn-off open and checked the shells; two shredder rounds, if someone tried to stop him, shit was going to get messy.

He made his move while the Yautja male was the center of attention, piss bolting for the main entrance.

Slipping, sliding and leaping over the hordes of locals like an obstacle course, Flinch was mere meters away from making a clean break when fell flat on his face. A few seconds passed before Flinch's hands clutched the ground as his vision narrowed to see he was only a few inches from the exit, the fresh air flooding through the open doors.

Maybe the hive rogue just lost his footing or tripped on a passer-by, anything was possible with the amount of alcohol he had consumed tonight, hyper-metabolism or not. Though before he could even drag himself from the floor, a large hand swiftly clutched the back of his jacket collar and yanked him from the floor with one easy pull.

'What the fuck now…?' He thought to himself. 'He CAN'T be that quick…!'

Thankfully for Flinch this wasn't A'ka'an-dra or some other Entak goon, but a large dark blue humanoid creature known as a Luk'ash. These large, gender neutral creatures were usually a shade of dark blue or blue / green with deep red eyes and orange to yellow hair. They shared a physical stature similar to that of an average Yautja, and were generally excellent workers, albeit, accompanied by the intelligence of an average plank of wood.

This one was dressed in quite a primitive style of armor, probably only offering protection from smaller caliber weapons, while his face was covered by a raggedy balaclava and metal face mask over his mouth. Typically, a Luk'ash only used their mouths for eating; their species shared a basic sign language, punctuated by the occasional grunt or growl.

The powerful creature wound up and propelled Flinch Spacey like a javelin across the barroom with stunning precision. The hive guardian didn't even have time to swear as he was sent flying into the large semi-circular bar of the Crosshair, smashing headlong into merchandise on the wall.

Moments later, a seemly endless supply of expensive booze came crashing down onto the hive male from the numerous shelves above as he attempted to get to his feet.

"Ow." He mumbled, had it not been for the possibility of certain death, Flinch would have probably been on all fours, sucking the alcohol from the floor. He instead, held perfectly still, using the large circular bar as cover as he pulled his trusty boom-stick from its holster. The xenomorph male rested the double barreled muzzle gently against the kick panels that skirted the whole bar top.

"…Waste not…" Flinch shrugged as he dipped a finger in the large pool of booze where he knelt

Half the heads in the cantina turned at the thunderous shattering sound made by Flinch's collision into the back of the bar. Those who stood between the Luk'ash and its payday soon dispersed, the bulking creature slowly marching over to the bar with a menacing crack of its muscular neck.

Before the Luk'ash could even get half way to its target, a thunderous bang erupted from behind the bar, a lower section of wooden kick paneling bursting outward as Flinch fired from his covered position. The Luk'ash stumbled, clutching its abdomen as a spray of shredder shards penetrated its armor, not deep enough to kill, but enough to end its confidence in an easy victory.

Before the Luk'ash could even stand up straight, Flinch scrambled to his feet, half covered in booze and gritting his teeth angrily. He raised his smoking sawn off above his head and drew a bead down on his next target, unloading his remaining shell into the Luk'ash's face. The creature's arms flailed as it toppled off its feet and onto its back.

Flinch was hopeful it would buy him a little time, lucky for him, most were still focused on A'ka'an's battle which was now igniting and inspiring other scuffles around The Crosshair. Try as he may, Flinch couldn't help but gaze back at the Yautja stalker, who was anything but dead and / or ripped to shreds as he had hoped.

A sudden whizzing sound alerted the hive rogue to his new peril as an energy projectile missed his head by mere millimeters. It impacted with a loud crack, breaking a bottle behind him; Flinch quickly spun around, hissing as another shot impacted the bar in front of him. Not from the Luk'ash, who was still out like a light, but from a few other patrons who were none too keen on Flinch bringing a gun to a fist fight.

Kind of a big 'no-no' in the numerous unwritten rules of Edridion Prime.

Flinch quickly threw himself to the floor, while at the same time scrambling to get two fresh shells into his boom-stick.

"Waahhoooo! Common insect, give us your best shot!" Screamed a voice over the brawling as rounds started to break through the bar top Flinch was using as cover, forcing him right onto his belly.

The cracking sounds of energy based projectiles whizzing past filled the air around him as the triggerman fired more shots than Flinch could count.

The challenger smelt cold blooded, and now had two others who had joined in on the turkey shoot, Flinch kept as low to the ground as possible. He crept quickly along the floor, past the bartenders and locals who were cowering for cover behind the bar as well. The firing only increased and became more sporadic as the challengers most likely sensed he was reacting or moving.

Having crawled to an opening, where the bar was actually smashed, the hive rogue snatched a half empty bottle of hooch from the puddles of pooling booze and broken glass. Pausing a moment, he focused his strong sense of smell to try and more accurately pin point the location of the challengers.

'Three assholes, two shots. Fuck this day' Flinch thought to himself, downing what was left in the bottle as he waited for the erratic firing to conclude. The posse were more than likely running low on rounds, now was the perfect time to strike.

"We get him?"Asked one of the challengers, as he ejected the depleted energy cell of his weapon; the shooter looked up from his attempt to reload and wore an empty bottle in his face.

He was on the ground before he knew what had hit him.

Using the surprise from the sudden attack to his advantage, Flinch quickly vaulted the bar and took aim mid-flight, squeezing hard on both triggers. The cut down boom-stick lived up to its namesake, leaving many eardrums ringing as it discharged, despite such 'ancient' technology, it was still quite an intimidating weapon. Both muzzles exploded with a roar, a wide spread of shrapnel shards tearing through flesh with ease. The two remaining triggermen both collapsed to the ground almost simultaneously, their upper bodies a shredded, bloody mess.

The remaining challenger stood little chance, not only had he dropped his weapon but he hadn't even had time to realize his friends were bleeding out on the ground, mere meters away. Just as he started to gather his senses he was met with the hive male's clawed foot on his throat, followed by his razor sharp tail blade impaling the dazed shooter's chest with little effort.

Flinch hissed angrily as he hoisted his dying assailant up, using him as cover while trying to shove through the chaotic brawling. But even with his lighting quick reaction and meat shield taking most of the damage, he was soon overwhelmed by wild punches and shoves thrown from all angles. The sporadic scrapping had turned savage, and just as he didn't want, Flinch was caught in the middle of it.

A tactical retreat into The Crosshair seemed like a smart idea now, especially seeing as he wouldn't get close to any exit. Flinch quickly let go of his shield and kicked the corpse into as many of the local scoundrels as possible, trying to scatter them for a moment. Leaping back and climbing onto what was left of the bar, now riddled with projectile burns, gouges and covered in broken glass.

Kicking out his clawed feet and lashing his tail at any that dared get too close, the hive male quickly dug into his long coat for any spare shells. He hesitated only when he saw the dark, menacing features of A'ka'an-dra's mask, looking right back at him as he made eye contact. Not only was he holding ground, but had made short work of the Entak enforcers, the notoriously ruthless Xo'nn Ontalla face down over a half busted card gambling table. Even the rabbles of drunken thugs were becoming skeptical about rushing him.

The prick was enjoying himself.

Flinch hissed loudly as he broke open his sawn-off and quickly flicked out the discarded shells, slipping in two fresh ones and snapping it closed with a flick of his wrist. These two were for someone special, and the rogue operative was certain he knew who. He moved quickly, Spacey needed to be unarmed, and kept in his line of sight at all times.

Before Flinch could draw down a bead on his stalker, he was interrupted by yet another local tough guy trying to knock him off the bar. Luckily for A'ka'an, the new challenger was keeping Flinch's armed hand busy, shunting at him with a barstool, this brought the Yautja some more time.

Without a moment's hesitation, A'ka'an made a dash for the hive male, mowing down any grunts that thought it was a good idea to get between him and Flinch.

"Oh you want a shot too!? Fucking get back!" Flinch growled as he kicked at his current attacker, knocking him backward, still trying to aim at the Yautja stalker.

The rogue guardian soon realized A'ka'an was initiating a counter attack. Caught completely off guard, Flinch frantically tried to draw a bead on his target, raising his weapon as fast as he could. The Yautja infiltrator moved in order to avoid him, ducking and weaving in and out of random patrons while straight out flattening others as he approached Spacey's position.

A'ka'an judged the distance to his target precisely as he sprang into the air the second the hive rogue got a clear line of sight. Though before he could pull the trigger, the Yautja covert landed a precise kick against the underside of the weapon causing it to rise violently; slamming into Flinch's face right as the weapon discharged. The hive male staggered backward, his arms flailing as he fell off the bar, landing in the puddles of booze and broken glass.

The Yautja outlander felt shiver up his spine, as it was possible he might have just accidentally killed his mark, that was worth far more alive. But before he could peer over the bar to inspect, he was tackled by the same creature who had previously tried to attack Flinch with a barstool.

Whatever this creature was it was strong enough to throw A'ka'an-dra to the floor without too much trouble. Slightly distracted by the possible error he just made, the Yautja male managed to get his feet under his attacker and launch him like a bowling ball. The creature was sent sprawling backward, ploughing down any one in its way, leaving a few feet of clear space around A'ka'an, who took advantage, immediately springing to his feet.

At the sight of a shaking, dark clawed hand creeping up from behind the bar, the Yautja stalker smirked to himself as Flinch dug his claws into the bar-top. Unlike the rest of the commotion in The Crosshair, the hive male's movement appeared very drowsy, that sawn-off smacking him in the face must have hurt something bad.

"I'll be sure to wake you in the morning, Spacey." A'ka'an" chuckled as he stood his ground defensively, keeping a close eye on the hive rogue while ensuring no one tried anything on him.

Flinch's head was spinning so hard he thought he was drunk and hungover at the same time. He felt a burn on his face from the barrels pressing against him only moments after firing and as if to add insult to injury, his hearing was ringing as well. Luckily for the rogue xenomorph, no one was paying him much attention, now that it looked like he could barely hold his tail up. A good part of the brawling in The Crosshair was drawing to a close; most of the real danger was gone, as the gunslingers would always kill each other off in the early stages of these fights. And the brave ones that stayed were learning, real quick, just how dangerous the two trouble makers were becoming.

"Keep it together Insect." A'ka'an said as he tried to keep close enough to the hive rouge, lest he might try, yet another escape. Though the state he was in made that scenario seem unlikely.

A'ka'an-dra analyzed what threats were left, deciding it was time to leave before he was forced to kill anyone else. Problem being, there was only one thing that this society really responded to, violence. A show of force was the only way they would get out, quickly, and with the least blood spilt.

While standing off with a few over confident patrons who hadn't quite come to their senses yet A'ka'an reached around under his long cloak and withdrew his modified Dark Blade plasma pistol. He held it up and fired without hesitation, directly into the air. The distinctive Yautja plasma based weapon made a sound that was not only psychologically terrifying, but the flash that accompanied the weapons discharge drew all attention to the Yautja infiltrator.

With everyone's eyes now on him, A'ka'an-dra lowered the weapon to a covering position, keeping it aimed and tracking on all but himself. Not a single sound escaped his mask, as if to show how serious he was, some of the brawlers not directly in the firing line quickly scarpered out the main entrance.

"It is time, Gentlemen, to call it a night. I am going to take my payday over there, and leave." A'ka'an proclaimed very straight forwardly, jerking his head toward Flinch, "It has been fun, but any further detriment on my part, will be the cause of your deaths." He waited for the small bands of associates to collect their wounded and those that were still breathing, and leave.

Flinch of course, who could barely keep himself from upright, made a foolish attempt to try and disperse into the small groups of those leaving. He slowly crept along the floor using the shattered furniture and bodies as a sort of cover, a pointless attempt try and evade the covert operative who while he wasn't directly eyeing Flinch, picked up his last ditch attempt immediately.

A'ka'an slowly walked over to his 'payday', keeping his eyes squared on the exit as bar goers left in small droves, spotting Flinch's tail being dragged along the ground he slowly pressed his boot to the tip his tail blade stopping him from crawling another inch.

"Not you Mister Spacey, the night is still only young for us." A'ka'an said bluntly, not trying to sound condescending to his target.

Flinch hissed angrily and slowly turned his head, looking up at A'ka'an with a distasteful showing of his teeth. There was nothing Flinch hated more than having to sit down and shut up for the likes of a Yautja.

A'ka'an waited for the very last group of scum to drag themselves out of The Crosshair before he holstered his weapon back onto his left hip. Now with no outwardly obvious threats, he squared his attention solely to his Xenomorph target at his feet. Not letting his guard down, he quickly secured Flinch's hands behind his back and grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket collar, roughly pushing him against what was left of the bar.

Flinch growled angrily as he lay half slouched on the floor, glaring at A'ka'an.

A brief few moments of silence ensued as the Hive Rogue and Covert Operative watched each other intensely. A'ka'an noticed Flinch's flaring snarl slowly lower, his vision still focused on the Yautja though.

"Hurry up and kill me, otherwise stop fuckin' wasting my time." Flinch huffed, really badly wanting to rub his head or at the least have another drink to take his mind off the pain.

A'ka'an-dra chuckled softly and removed his mask, his shimmering green eyes flashed down at his captive.

"Oh, I do not intend to kill you Mister Spacey…"